Chapter - 47

"Grandma! Look! There's a dead person over there!"

A boy's voice echoed through the silent forest with nervousness.

The old lady, whose back was already aching from hours of stooping to collect medicinal herbs, stretched her back, and wiping the sweat from her wrinkled forehead with a dirt-stained sleeve, squinted towards where her grandson was pointing.

"Hush now, Finn," she scolded her grandson, "Don't go shouting! You might alert some bandits."

She followed his gaze. Down the steep slope where the river stream was.

And it wasn't any dead person, it looked like a woman.

The old woman slowly got down to the bank. Finn was beside her, helping her down.

When they got there, the old woman saw the woman lying face down in the mud, half-submerged in the cold water. Her clothes were torn from places and stained brown and red all over. There was also some weed tangled to her blonde hair.

"Is she... Is she rotting?" Finn asked, wrinkling his nose, though he still leaned in out of curiosity.

"Get back!" The elderly woman pulled back Finn as she reached out with her trembling hand and touched the woman's neck.

"Her skin is cold…," The elderly woman whispered, surprised, "But there's a faint pulse."

Finn's eyes went wide, "She's alive? What do we do, grandma?"

The old woman frowned as she looked at the exposed back of the woman, it was bruised up, cuts all over her back and blood seeping out of them.

"Help me turn her over," The old woman commanded.

Together, they heaved the woman onto her back. Finn gasped. Even through the mud, the blood, and the swelling bruises, the woman's face was... breathtaking. Even a thirteen year old boy like him was smitten.

She possessed a beauty that shouldn't belong in the Dawnspire Forest. She looked like a highborn beauty, the kind Finn had only seen in the statues at the temple in the town.

"She is... she is shiny," Finn mumbled, lacking the vocabulary to describe her nobility.

The old woman, however, felt a cold pit form in her stomach, "This girl is trouble, Finn." She looked at her pale skin, smooth arms and the expensive looking dress she was wearing.

"Is she a noble?" Finn asked.

"She was," The old woman muttered, "Or she belonged to one."

They stood there for a moment, the sound of the river rushing past them.

The elderly woman knew the smart thing to do. The safe thing. Leave her. Let the river take her.

"We should go, Finn," the elderly woman said, "We don't know what trouble she might bring us."

"But, grandma," Finn looked at her grandmother with those puppy eyes, "We can't leave her here. What if the bandits found her?"

The elderly woman knew her grandson was right. If they left her here, and the bandits found her. Those savage beasts. And not just them, looking at her beautiful face even if the soldiers were to find her, they will use her like a toy until they break her. They wouldn't let a girl like her die quickly.

The elderly woman looked at the woman with pain etched on her face. The elderly woman had lost her own daughter to a fever years ago. Leaving another girl to her death or her possible ruin didn't seem right to her.

"No," The elderly woman sighed, the weight of the decision settling on her shoulders. "We can't leave her, Finn."

"So... we take her?" Finn asked with a smile on his face.

"Get the cart," The elderly woman ordered, "Clear out the back. We will hide her under the hay and the stink weed. If anyone asks, we are just hauling fodder and herbs, do you understand?"

"Yes, grandma!" Finn was more than happy to get the cart.

It was a terrifying journey. Even the chirps of the birds made the elderly woman's heart race.

They traveled east. They were going towards their village, Greenleaf, about 5 miles east of Auravale.

Greenleaf wasn't much of a village. It was a cluster of twenty or so tattered huts huddled together very close to each other. It looked like the Lord had already forgotten about this place.

The village was mainly populated by elderly men and women who were too old to work the city fields, and young children whose parents had left for Auravale to earn, promising to return but rarely doing so.

When they finally arrived at their small, thatch-roofed hut, the sun was already setting. They carried the woman inside and laid her on Finn's cot.

For three days, the woman burned with fever. She thrashed and moaned in her sleep, crying out names that made no sense. But all this time, the elderly woman and Finn took turns to take care of her.

On the fourth morning, the fever broke, and the woman finally opened her eyes. They were beautiful eyes, but filled with confusion.

"Water," she barely managed to speak.

The elderly woman helped her drink. After she was done, the woman looked around the tattered hut, the dirt floor, the drying herbs hanging from the ceiling. There was also a boy staring at her from behind the old woman.

"Where...?" she whispered.

"You are safe," the old woman said softly. "You are in Greenleaf village. My grandson found you by the river."

The woman frowned, pressing a hand to her bandaged head. "River...?"

"My name is Elara, and this is my grandson Finn. What's your name, child?" The elderly woman asked.

The woman opened her mouth to answer. She paused. Her brow furrowed. She closed her mouth, then opened it again.

"I..." she started, "I don't... I don't know."

"You don't know your name?" Finn asked.

"I don't know," the woman's voice trembled, "I don't know who I am. I don't... Why can't I remember? Why is it blank?"

She tried to sit up, her hands running through her hair.

"Easy, easy!" Elara pushed her back down gently. "It happens. You got hurt in the head, and lost a lot of blood. It will come back."

But it didn't.

Soon a week passed and the bruises began to fade. Her strength returned. But her mind remained a blank slate.

She remembered how to speak, how to walk, how to eat... but she remembered no name, no family, no past of hers.

She sat in front of a cracked piece of mirror, touched her own face. It felt alien.

"I need a name," she said, looking at herself, "I can't be 'Girl' forever."

Elara smiled, stitching a tear in Finn's tunic, "There's a flower that grows by the river banks where I found you. It's tough. It survives the floods and the frost, only to bloom in the spring. It's called a Seraphine."

The woman rolled the word around on her tongue, "Seraphine."

The woman looked away from the mirror, a small smile touching her lips, "I like it."

And just like that, Seraphine became a new member of the village.

The old men were happy to have a new flower to feast their hazy eyes upon. The old ladies felt a bit threatened, but a look from Elara made all of them shut up. And the kids were happy to have such a beautiful new big sister.

But one thing was common among everyone. No one asked about her past.

She loved them. She loved Elara, who fussed over her like a mother she did not remember. She loved Finn, who followed her everywhere, calling her 'Big Sister.'

But there was something... different about her.

It started with the wood. Finn was struggling to split a log of iron oak. Seraphine decided to give it a go despite Finn looking down on her.

She took the axe from him casually and gave it a swing. She didn't even try hard, but she seemed so natural.

And in front of Finn's surprised eyes, the axe didn't just split the log; it shattered the chopping block beneath it and buried itself deep into the earth.

Finn stared at her, "Sister... How did you??"

But more than him Seraphine was shocked. She just wanted to give it a try, but the outcome? She looked at her hands, how was she so powerful?

And then came the winter.

"I am going hunting," Seraphine announced one day.

"You don't know how to hunt," Elara tried to stop her. "The forest is dangerous. There are wolves. Bears."

"I will be fine," Seraphine said. She had to somehow repay Elara and Finn, along with the village. And staying at the hut all day. Chopping woods won't do it.

And with that, she went back to the Dawnspire forest where she once lay half-dead.

And when she came back, the village feasted on a boar for over a week.

And pretty soon, she became the provider of the whole village. She would hunt every few days, the men would skin it and the women cooked a hefty feast. And before the last one would end, Seraphine would hunt again.

And just like that, three years went by peacefully.

And today was a special day. It was Finn's sixteenth birthday. He had now grown from a scrawny boy into a lanky sixteen-year-old.

And for this very day, Seraphine had been tracking a Silver-Quill Hare.

It was a rare beast. Its meat is sweet and tender, and some even say that eating it before your Divine Blessings ritual increases your chances of getting blessed. A rare delicacy like that would fetch up to 5 gold coins at the town. But today, it was going to be Finn's dinner.

She wanted to surprise him.

"Let me come with you, Sis!" Finn pleaded, rubbing sleep from his eyes as he saw her gearing up, "I am sixteen now. I can handle a bow."

Seraphine smiled, ruffling his messy hair. He was taller than her now, trying so hard to be a man.

"Not today, little brother," She said gently, "Grandma Elara was coughing blood last night. She needs her tea, and she needs someone to keep the fire warm. You are the man of the house today. Protect her."

Finn pouted, but he nodded, his sense of duty winning out, "Alright. But promise me that next time you will take me with you."

"I promise," Seraphine said.

She leaned down and kissed Elara's parchment-thin cheek. "I'll be back before sunset. With a feast."

"Be careful, my dear," Elara whispered, squeezing her hand, "I feel restless."

"I am always careful," Seraphine smiled, "Mother."

She stepped out into the morning light, feeling the cool air in her lungs.

The hunt was long and difficult. The Silver-Quill Hare was elusive, leading her miles deep into the Dawnspire Forest. But Seraphine was patient. She had tracked him for 2 days straight, and today, she will have it.

And her patience finally paid. By late afternoon, she had cornered the hare in the traps she had set for the last two days.

And with a clean shot through the neck. She held the heavy, silver-furred prize by its ears, a surge of triumph filling her chest. Finn was going to lose his mind. They would roast it with rosemary and garlic. Just thinking about it filled her mouth with water.

So without wasting any time, she turned back towards Greenleaf. No more hunting for today.

And when she was a few hundred metres away from the house, she saw smoke rising from the direction of their house.

"They are already making preparations," Seraphine smiled.

But the closer she got to the house, the smile on her face began to fade.

A crowd of villagers was gathered in front of their hut, and she could see the smoke getting darker the closer she got.

Her pace quickened. as she moved towards the crowd. And once she reached close enough, she pushed through the crowd roughly, ignoring the gasps and murmurs.

Her heart rammed against her ribs.

And when she got in the front, she finally saw it. Their hut, it was burned to the ground, only a broken shell of blackened wood and collapsing beams left.

"Finn!" she screamed. "Elara!"

She ran towards their hut. Or where their hut used to be.

"No... no, no, no..."

She stumbled into the dirt yard in front of the ruin. Her eyes frantically scanned the chaos, looking for them. Looking for them running with buckets, looking for them coughing in the smoke.

Then she saw the mats.

Two woven hay mats lay in the center of the yard, untouched by the fire, as if placed there for display.

Seraphine's legs gave out. She fell to her knees, sliding in the dust.

Elara lay on the first mat. She looked so small. So fragile. Her eyes were open, staring blankly at the smoke filled sky.

Her face was bruised and swollen, dried blood streaking from her nose and mouth, and a deep sword wound carved through her chest, straight through the heart.

But Finn...

Seraphine crawled towards the second mat, a high, keen wail building in her throat.

Finn hadn't been given a clean death.

His face was swollen, unrecognizable, a mask of purple and blue pulp. His limbs were twisted at unnatural angles, bones shattered. His tunic was shredded, his chest caved in. He had been beaten. He had been broken, bone by bone, while he was still alive. His hands... his hands were covered in mud.

Seraphine reached out, her hand trembling so violently she couldn't control it. She touched his cheek. It was cold.

"Finn?" she whispered, "I got you a surprise… I got that silver… that hare you always wanted to eat…"

But all she got was silence in response.

"Seraphine..."

A voice croaked behind her. She spun around, her dagger appearing in her hand instantly.

It was Old Tom, the village elder. He was hobbling towards her, leaning heavily on a cane, soot covering his face, tears carving tracks through the grime.

"They are gone, child," Tom sobbed. "They are all gone."

Seraphine grabbed him by the tunic, shaking him, "Who?! Tell me who did this? Bandits? The Blackfangs?"

"No," Tom shook his head, his eyes filled with a terror that went beyond death.

Suddenly, a woman spoke.

"It was her! I saw her face in the city procession last year!"

The woman pointed a shaking finger towards the distant town of Auravale.

"It was the Lord's daughter! She did it!"

"Lady Aliana did it!"

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