Whispers of Farewell

Later, at midnight, Ava lay still, pretending to sleep until Felix finally drifted off into a restless slumber. Once she was sure he was asleep, she silently slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb the quiet of the room. Her feet barely made a sound against the floor as she tiptoed toward the wardrobe.

She pulled out a portmanteau and began packing her clothes into it. Though her locker was full of precious jewels, she only took the jewelry set gifted by her father as a wedding present. Her eyes were watery, tears streaming down her face. Despite her unbearable pain, she cried silently. A part of her wanted to scream out her pain, to let the whole world know that she didn't deserve this, that it was all wrong. But, since all her life she had been taught to suppress and hide—whether it was her feelings or her powers—she didn't let that part win.

She reached for her Edwardian handbag, carefully took out a few sheets of paper, and placed them on the study table. As she did so, she set a paperweight on top, followed by a stone—a small, symbolic weight on her heart.

"See, I've arranged everything for you," the voice of Princess Tiara echoed in her mind. Flashbacks from their earlier conversation swept through Ava's thoughts like a haunting melody. "Here is the farewell letter and the decree of divorce," the princess handed Ava an envelope, her smile wide and falsely sweet. "All prepared to be served hot," she had chimed, her voice light as if handing over not divorce papers, but a wedding invitation card. "Perks of being a Canopian woman. You don't need your husband's signature for a divorce. Just sign your name, place your seal, and congratulations—you're no longer bound."

Ava's hands clenched at her sides before she shut the disturbing flashback and made her way toward her dressing table. Her hand lingered for a while around the purple medicine pouch, but she didn't pick it up.

She stared into her reflection in the mirror, her own eyes looking foreign to her. "If I am going to have the misfortune of being a witch, then I guess I should embrace it fully instead of suppressing it," she murmured to herself, her voice soft but filled with the weight of her resolve.

She closed her eyes and took several slow, steadying breaths, trying to calm the cyclone of pain whirling inside her chest. Once composed, she turned her attention to Felix, who was sleeping fitfully on the couch, his face twisted in discomfort.

Ava moved closer, her heart heavy with emotion as she bent beside the couch. The dim light of the room cast soft shadows over Felix's still form, and her fingers quivered with the desperate urge to touch him. She let her hand hover over his cheek, trembling with the desire to wake him, to hold him, to cry in front of him. The need to beg him to stay was almost overwhelming, but she whispered, as softly as she could, her voice thick with emotion, "I wish... I wish this wasn't our farewell. I wish I could postpone it for the next sixty years."

A drop of tear slipped from her eye, landing on his shirt at the spot where he had been injured. Her gaze fell on the stain, and her hand reached out almost instinctively, fingers hovering on the area where the wound had been. "I hope you will get well soon, my lord. I hope neither this wound nor my departure leaves a scar on your heart."

Suddenly, purple light sparkled from her fingers, catching her attention. She turned her hand toward herself to examine it closely, the light faint but unmistakable. Her pulse quickened in response, but she stared at the light, unsure of what it meant.

"I mean witches. Like you, Ava Sideris," the voice of Princess Tiara echoed in her mind again, mocking and distant.

Ava stared at her hand, the realization hitting her like a cold wave. "I am a witch," she said softly, her voice filled with quiet disbelief. "So, does this mean I can heal him?"

Her hand hovered over the spot on Felix's chest where he had been wounded, and she concentrated hard. She held her breath, waiting for something—anything—to happen. But nothing did. The purple glow that she was expecting never came.

"Thought even if I can't save you from the pain that I am going to give you, at least I can save you from the pain this wound is giving you." She looked down at her palm, disappointment weighing her down. "Looks like I am not capable enough to do this either," she muttered, the frustration clear in her voice.

She was about to stand straight and turn around when Felix's hand wrapped around her wrist and pulled her, letting a short gasp out of her mouth.

Her heartbeat raised to an alarming level, scared to face the situation, to face his eyes. But then, tightening her lips, she somehow managed to gather enough courage and looked at him, only to realize that he wasn't awake and that the pull he just did was just a mistake in his sleep.

Though it was a mistake or a sleep habit, his hands knew what to do. His hand had put her hand on his chest and secured it with his hand on top, subconsciously making sure that she didn't leave.

Feeling his steady heartbeat against her hand, her panicked heartbeat began to feel the same steadiness. Suddenly, like a miracle, a purple light flared to life in her palm, surging through her veins like a current of energy and sending a shiver racing down her spine. It glowed brighter for an instant before gently fading, leaving behind a soothing warmth in her finger.

She waited for a few minutes, pressing her lips tightly together to ensure she wouldn't make any noise, even by mistake. Slowly, she eased her hand out of his grasp, her fingers trembling slightly as she reached for the hem of his shirt. With the gentlest touch, she lifted it just enough to see if the purple light had been more than an illusion—or if it had actually worked.

The moment the fabric shifted away from his wounded area, her breath hitched, and her lips parted in stunned disbelief. His wound was gone. Completely vanished, as if it had never been there.

It took her a while to process what she had just done, but poor girl—though she possessed one of the greatest powers in the world—her heart still felt the emptiness she had always feared.

Again, a bitter drop of tear rolled down her cheek, paying tribute to her misfortune, before she wiped it away and forced a smile onto her face.

"Goodbye, my lord," she whispered, her voice barely audible, thick with emotion that seemed to weigh down her every word. She held her breath, her heart heavy with unspoken sorrow, before leaning forward and planting a soft, lingering kiss on his forehead. Then, gently, she pulled away, stood, and left the room, the door clicking shut behind her with a finality that echoed through the stillness of the night.