Chapter 3

My insomnia has worsened. Tea, piano, medicine—nothing works, and I have spent yet another night staring at the moon from my balcony. I left my room unveiled to the moonlight, and the snow slowly creeps into my room by the brisk night breeze. I find solace in confiding in the moonlight. We rarely ever get sunlight here, but the moon never betrays me. She visits every night, cushioned by the midnight clouds. I am able to breathe in her comfort. I like to think the moon is Mother.

Mother was as heavenly as the moon. Her long, silver hair was like the reflection of the moon, soft and beguiling. Her eyes were as brilliant as the sky beyond the twilight clouds. Mother always used to tell me stories of how Father fell in love with her at first sight. She would recount the lengths Father went to—his desperate efforts to win her heart, his unshakable devotion. Their love was nothing but purity, but their time was cut short. And I cannot bear to think of how broken Father is.

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Today is the anniversary of Mother's death. She was buried in the one area where greenery grew in this desolate land. She was Father's sun to his midnight, and sunlight blesses her tombstone. I had her favourite bouquet requested—blue and white hydrangeas, accented with ditsy daisies. That was the first bouquet Father gifted her. He picked them out and arranged them himself. He was a humble soldier at the time and worked hard to become a person she could rely on. Everything he did was for her, and he visits her tombstone every night. Longing for her to come back to him.

As we prepare to visit Mother's resting place, Solana finds me in the parlour, my usual refuge from the cold. She glides in, her presence a soothing balm to my restless soul.

"Alora, you look preoccupied," she says softly, taking a seat beside me. "Are you alright?"

I force a smile, though my heart is heavy. "Just the anniversary. It's always difficult."

Solana places a comforting hand on mine. Her touch is gentle and warm, a stark contrast to the icy world outside. "I understand. I always find the anniversaries to be the hardest. It feels like the weight of the past is heavier on days like these."

I nod, appreciating her empathy. "I can't seem to shake off the dreams, either. They're getting worse. Last night, he was there again—the man from my nightmares. And he's become so vivid."

Solana's brows knit together in concern. "The man from your dreams? What do you think he represents?"

"I don't know," I admit, feeling the frustration bubbling up. "But it feels like he's more than just a figment of my imagination. It's as though he's connected to something real, something dangerous."

Solana listens intently, her gaze steady. "It's natural to feel unsettled by such dreams. Sometimes they reflect our deepest fears or concerns. But you don't have to face them alone. You know I'm here for you."

Her words bring me a measure of comfort, though the sense of unease remains. "Thank you, Solana. It's just… the way he looks at me, the way he seems to call out to me—it's as if he's trying to lead me somewhere."

Solana's eyes soften with understanding. "Perhaps there's a message in your dreams. Maybe they're guiding you toward something you need to confront or understand. But remember, you don't have to rush to find the answers. Sometimes, it's okay to take things one step at a time."

Her support is a balm to my frayed nerves. I nod, feeling slightly more at ease. "Yes, let's go."

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The carriage journey to Mother's grave is a quiet reflection of the day's melancholy. The air is crisp, and the early winter sun casts a pale light over the snow-covered landscape. Father sits beside me, his expression a portrait of sorrow etched with love. Solana and Atlas exchange glances but allow the silence to settle between us.

As we arrive at the grave site, Father's demeanour shifts. He steps out first, his movements slow and deliberate. The weight of his grief is palpable, and the love he held for Mother is evident in every careful step he takes toward her grave. He carries the bouquet—an emblem of a love that was as enduring as it was tender.

Mother's resting place is surrounded by daisies, their delicate petals swaying gently in the breeze. The sun's rays filter through the trees, casting a serene glow over the scene. It feels as though the earth itself mourns with us, honouring her memory.

Father's hands tremble as he places the bouquet on the grave. "Lia," he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. "You were my light in the darkest times. I have loved you with every breath I've taken, and though you are gone, that love remains. Your memory is a constant comfort, and your absence a profound ache."

His words are a poignant testament to the depth of his love. Solana and I stand beside him, sharing in the solemn moment. The air is filled with the soft rustle of leaves and the distant chirping of birds—a delicate symphony for a life remembered.

Father's gaze lingers on the grave, his sorrow deep and palpable. "I will always love you, Ophelia," he whispers, as if the words alone might bridge the chasm of her absence.

Father turns to us, his eyes weary. "It's getting late. Please, return home with the carriage. I need a moment alone."

I glance around, noting the stillness of the graveyard. My gaze catches a fleeting, unsettling figure—a man in a dark cloak, partially obscured by the shadows, watching us from a distance. The sight of him sends a shiver down my spine.

The carriage starts its journey back, but my thoughts are restless. The man from my dreams—he's not just a figment. His presence feels too real, too connected to the fears that haunt me.

"Coachman, stop the carriage," I command, my voice taut with urgency.

The carriage comes to a halt, and I quickly step out, wrapping myself in a cloak to shield against the cold. Atlas and Solana look at me, concern etched on their faces.

"Alora, where are you going?" Atlas asks, stepping forward, his voice laced with concern.

I catch Solana's eye and see the understanding in her gaze. "I just need to check something. It won't take long," I say, trying to sound casual, though my heart races with urgency.

Atlas frowns. "It'll be dark soon, Alora."

I shake my head, forcing a reassuring smile. "It's nothing dangerous, Atlas. Just a quick errand. I promise I'll be back in a moment."

Solana, ever perceptive, places a calming hand on Atlas's shoulder. "Let her go, Atlas. She knows what she's doing. It's important to follow through on these things."

Atlas hesitates, clearly torn between concern and trust. After a moment, he steps back, albeit reluctantly. Solana nods, her gaze conveying quiet support.

"I'll be quick," I assure them once more before stepping out of the carriage. I pull my cloak tighter around me against the chill, and with a final glance at Solana and Atlas, I head toward the town. The sky is still a pale grey, casting long shadows over the snow-covered streets. The town is eerily quiet, the snow muffling all sound as I follow the figure's trail.

Solana and Atlas remain behind in the carriage, their silhouettes visible through the frosted windows. I know they're worried, but I need them to stay behind for now. There's something important I need to uncover tonight, and I can't risk them getting involved in something they don't understand.

As I walk, my mind is focused on the figure ahead, moving swiftly through the quiet streets. I am resolute in my determination to discover whatever truth he holds.