Ophelia could barely stomach her food for days to come. She was queasy and teary-eyed throughout the entire week, weeping in silence and in the comfort of Killorn who took her pain and burdened it upon his shoulders. She was an uncontrollable mess at times, finding herself embroidering to forget the time, but ripping the cloth in anger.
Whenever she'd prick her fingers, she was reminded of what had happened that night. Of what she lost. Of the drastic changes that came with her sacrifice. Her external injuries were minor, but she discovered she bled red now. Not silver. And her hair had developed an unnatural shade of light blond.
"They're as beautiful as faded gold tanned by sunlight," Killorn reassured her when he found her absentmindedly touching her braid with a book in her lap. She stared into the distance, beyond the trees, and into a faraway land.