Shadows Of Roses

Everyone was gathered in the town hall, the building groaning under the force of a thunderstorm that rattled the very foundation of the village. The sky outside seemed to roar with an otherworldly intensity, flashes of lightning splitting the darkened sky into jagged fragments of fleeting light. The storm's fury shook the entire hall, each thunderclap a bone-deep reverberation that seemed to align with the collective dread in the room. The air was thick, oppressive, carrying the faint metallic tang of approaching calamity. Children screamed, their terrified wails echoing off the walls like the cries of small birds caught in a storm, their tiny faces twisted in fear. Mothers, unfazed by the storm's ferocity, laughed with gentle resilience, their voices a soothing balm for their frightened children who clung to them like lifelines, hiding behind their skirts and arms as though those fragile barriers could shield them from the storm's wrath.

It had only been a few days since she and Alina had been saved by Adolphus. The memories of their harrowing escape still lingered like shadows in Seraphina's mind, lurking in the corners of her consciousness, but the sense of relief—this momentary safety—felt like the first warm ray of light after an endless night.

Earlier that day, the sun, hidden behind brooding clouds, left the world cloaked in a muted gray. The sky, heavy and low, hung like a restless predator waiting to pounce. Despite the gloom, the scent of flowers and fresh earth clung stubbornly to the air, wrapping itself around Seraphina as though to remind her she was alive. She felt the cool grass beneath her bare feet, damp with morning dew, and the gentle tug of the wind in her hair, sensations she had almost forgotten during the endless, stifling days spent confined within Adolphus's home. The days of rest and recovery had stretched like a thin thread pulled taut, her body aching as it healed, her mind heavy with the weight of too many tangled thoughts.

"I'm glad to see you up and walking, Sera," came a familiar voice, warm and steady, cutting through the haze of her reverie.

Seraphina turned her gaze from the sullen clouds above to find Edmund and Lukas approaching, their figures solid against the backdrop of the restless landscape. She smiled faintly at Edmund's warm, familiar grin, a flicker of warmth kindling within her. "Yes, it feels... it feels wonderful to be outside again," she said, her voice soft and tentative, as though the fragile beauty of the world might shatter if she spoke too loudly.

Edmund chuckled, brushing a stray lock of hair from his face as the wind played havoc with it, his laughter a brief respite from the day's tension.

Lukas, who had been silent until now, stepped forward with quiet purpose, his gaze flicking briefly to the darkening sky before settling on her. "Actually, Sera, we came to invite you to the meeting tonight," he said, his words deliberate and measured.

Seraphina tilted her head, a flicker of confusion crossing her features. "Me?" she asked, pointing to herself as though unsure she had heard correctly.

"Yes, you," Lukas said, his tone calm yet firm, imbued with an unspoken insistence that carried weight. He gestured toward her with subtle encouragement, his expression softening into something that conveyed both understanding and expectation. "It's important."

Edmund nodded in agreement, his easy demeanor giving way to a quiet seriousness that seemed out of place on his usually jovial face. "You see, it's a meeting to discuss preparations for the Festival of Arimath."

The mention of the festival stirred something bittersweet in Seraphina. Her gaze shifted downward; her expression momentarily unreadable as she processed his words. Memories of a different life—one filled with festivals, laughter, and light—flashed unbidden in her mind, only to be eclipsed by the shadow of her present reality. How on earth was she going to tell them she was planning to leave once she was fully healed?

These were kind people—people who had taken her in, cared for her and her child when she had no one else. They had offered her sanctuary when she had been most vulnerable, and she owed them her life. The thought of repaying their kindness with silence about her departure gnawed at her conscience, leaving an ache that rivaled the physical pain of her healing wounds. But her choice wasn't hers alone to make anymore. She couldn't allow them to come to any harm because of her presence, especially not with war brewing on the horizon.

The looming conflict with Lianyu was a storm no one could ignore, and Cassian—ever the calculating and relentless force—would soon be consumed by preparations for war. That meant he would have no time to search for her, no time to track her down. This, she realized, was her best chance.

Her best chance to leave this country.

Her best chance to find a place far away, a land so distant that even Cassian's reach couldn't touch it.

But as she stood there, Lukas and Edmund waiting for her answer, the weight of her decision pressed down like the dark clouds above. For now, she would go to their meeting. She would listen, smile, and nod. But soon—very soon—she would have to say goodbye.