The silence behind me was a tangible weight, a space where Cassius’s voice should have been. I didn’t need to look; I could feel his mood clinging to the air like a shroud. A quick glance over my shoulder confirmed it—his gaze was fixed on something far beyond the cottage walls, lost in a landscape only he could see.

I turned back to the woman before us. “We found it,” I said, my voice barely a whisper.

From the dimensional storage, I summoned the herb. The air in the small room crackled as it materialized, a cool, dense weight in my hands. Seraphiel’s head snapped up, her blindfolded face turning toward me as if she could feel its power pulsing against her skin.

“Come in, please,” she urged, a smile of profound relief blooming on her face. It softened the lines of exhaustion etched around her mouth. “Thank the stars.” She moved with a newfound lightness, her bare feet whispering against the floor as she guided us into a kitchen steeped in the scent of dried herbs, woodsmoke, and damp earth. The wooden table was a chaotic mosaic of roots, leaves, and flowers I couldn’t name. She gestured vaguely at the spread. “Would you mind?”

“Of course,” I said, casting a worried look at Cassius. He remained rooted by the door, a sentinel carved from shadow and silence. I pushed down the prickle of concern and found a stool, its wooden legs scraping against the flagstones. “What do you need?”

“First,” she began, moving toward the hearth where a heavy pot already hung over a crackling fire, “the leaves from this creeping vine. Strip them from the stems and place them in the mortar.”

My fingers trembled as I plucked the first leaf. The tiny tearing sound seemed to echo in the quiet room, each snap a fresh jolt of anxiety. What if I ruin this?

A low, knowing chuckle rumbled from the hearth. “You can hear her hesitating from over here, can’t you, fire?” Seraphiel said, her voice a calm counterpoint to my unease. “Don’t be so timid, child. Their fate is to be crushed anyway. Just leave the stems.”

Her gentle teasing worked. “Right,” I breathed, my shoulders loosening. At that moment, the stool beside me scraped against the floor. Cassius had finally moved, taking a seat in the firelight.

A small smile touched Seraphiel’s lips. She paused in her work, turning to face us more fully. “Glad you decided to join us, Cassius.” Her expression then settled into something more serious, the smile fading. “Now. Tell me about the journey.”

Cassius’s head lifted from his study of the floor. His gaze met mine, and for a fleeting instant, the storm of pain in his eyes quieted. Then it returned, and he looked away, clasping his hands together and rubbing the palms slowly, deliberately.

“Uneventful, it seems,” Seraphiel murmured, turning back to her pot.

My hands found a rhythm, stripping leaf after leaf until a fragrant green pile filled the stone bowl. “It’s done,” I announced.

“Excellent. Now, grind them.”

I gripped the cool, heavy pestle. Eager to prove myself, I brought it down hard. The sharp crack echoed. My eyes darted nervously around the room before I raised it to strike again.

“Thalia,” Cassius’s voice was soft, but it cut through my frantic energy. “You’re trying to grind it, not shatter the bowl.”

Heat flooded my cheeks. “Sorry,” I mumbled. “I’ve never…”

“Here.” He reached across the table. “Pass it to me.”

I slid the heavy mortar toward him. He cradled the bowl in one palm, his grip firm and steady. With the other hand, he took the pestle. “You press down,” he explained, his voice a low rumble, “and twist. Like this. Keep sweeping the edges toward the center.”

I watched his hands—the focused, gentle pressure, the steady rotation—a stark contrast to my own clumsy force. Under his patient guidance, the leaves were reduced to a fine, fragrant powder.

Seraphiel was suddenly beside us, her presence soft as an owl’s feather. “Slide me the mortar.” Cassius pushed it toward her. She dipped a finger into the powder, testing its consistency between her thumb and forefinger. “Perfect.” She found a larger bowl by touch, lifted the mortar, and, feeling for the lip, expertly tipped the contents inside. “I need to gather two more things from the garden,” she announced. “Please do the same with the rest of the herbs on the table.” She turned and slipped out the door, leaving it slightly ajar.

I began picking apart a sprig of silver-leafed rosemary. This time, Cassius joined me, his movements quiet and precise.

“Are you okay?” I asked softly, the question hanging in the air between us.

He didn’t look up from his task. “I’m… processing,” he said, his voice low. “Thinking about how to explain the day I was given this.” He gestured with his chin toward his cursed arm.

“I’m sorry, Cassius. I can’t imagine how hard that is.”

“It must be done,” he replied, his fingers methodically separating petal from stem. “I can’t carry it alone forever. I want you to know.” He finally paused and sighed, a sound heavy with resignation. “Seraphiel being privy to it was not part of my plan, but I see now it’s unavoidable.”

My own hands stilled. Our eyes met over the small pile of herbs. “Thank you for trusting me with it,” I said, my voice thick with emotion. “Even when it’s not easy.”

He held my gaze, his own unwavering. “I want you to know all of me, Thalia.” He paused, the firelight catching the sincerity in his eyes. “And I want to know all of you.”

The creak of the door opening shattered the moment. We both fell silent, our attention dropping back to our work as if we had never stopped.

We worked until the last of the herbs were ground. Seraphiel took the final bowl. “I will finish from here.”

She poured a small amount of water from the pot into the powder, mixing it into a thick paste. A faint, green shimmer of mana bled from her palms, weaving into the mixture. Her hands hovered over the table, searching, until they found the Moonless Blossom. She tore the inky black petals from the stem and scattered them across the surface.

The concoction immediately curdled into a sickening, brackish sludge.

Her lips moved, forming silent words. A vibrant, life-green mana flowed from her hands, enveloping the bowl and filling the room with its verdant energy. The sludge began to glow, the light growing brighter, purer, until she drew her hands away. The mixture now pulsed with the soft, steady luminescence of a powerful healing draught.

“It is done,” she stated, her voice flat with exhaustion and anticipation.

Her slender fingers rose to the cloth tied around her head. She untied the knot and set the blindfold on the table. She lifted the bowl. My heart hammered against my ribs. A single thought screamed through my mind: Please, let this work.

With a sharp intake of breath, she drank the entire potion in one go. A grimace twisted her features as she swallowed.

Time froze. The room was utterly silent, except for the crackling fire. Her eyes, now visible, were a hazy, milky white, like clouded moons. We watched, holding our breath.

Suddenly, her hands slammed down on the table, the sharp sound making me flinch. “It didn’t work,” she choked out, her voice breaking. Tears welled, shimmering in her sightless eyes with a grief so profound it felt ancient. My heart ached for her.

“Seraphiel,” I whispered. “Give it a moment. Maybe it just needs time.”

“No,” she snapped, the word sharp with bitterness. “It wouldn’t take—” She stopped, her breath catching in her throat.

Like a fog burning off in the morning sun, the milky haze in her eyes began to recede. The whiteness dissolved, pulling back from the edges to reveal irises the color of brilliant, clear emeralds. She blinked once, then twice. Her gaze, sharp and focused, darted around the room—at the fire, at the herbs, at Cassius, at me—as if seeing it all for the first time.

“I…” she breathed, her voice trembling with disbelief. “I can see.”

Tears of pure joy streamed down her face. A sob, raw and beautiful, escaped her as she sank onto the stool, burying her face in her hands. Her shoulders shook with the force of her relief. We gave her the silence she needed, letting her cry until the storm of emotion passed, leaving only quiet, shuddering breaths.

“I’ll be right back,” she whispered, wiping the tears from her cheeks. She stood and fled the cottage. Cassius and I exchanged a look before following her into the cool night.

She had stopped at the edge of the cliff, her face turned toward the vast, moon-drenched ocean. The stars were scattered like diamond dust across a velvet sky.

“It’s… breathtaking,” she whispered, her voice full of an almost painful awe. “I had forgotten. I had truly forgotten what it all looked like.”

Her face was a portrait of rapture. Light seemed to radiate from her, a brilliant smile playing on her lips. We stood back, silent witnesses to her reunion with the world.

After a long time, she turned back to us. The radiant joy slowly receded, replaced by a profound, steel-edged seriousness.

“You held up your end of the bargain,” she said, her voice steady and clear. Her emerald eyes, so new and so ancient, locked onto Cassius. “Now, I will hold up mine. It is time for you to tell me everything.”

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A Note from Kali Rae

The story doesn’t have to end here! I want to personally invite you to connect with me beyond these pages. There are two great ways to dive deeper into this world and join our growing community.

First, my Ko-fi page is the place for exclusive content you won’t find anywhere else, like character art and early sneak peeks of my next project. Your support there directly helps me continue creating new stories for you.

For exclusive content, visit my Ko-fi:

https://ko-fi.com/kalirae

If you’re looking for a place to chat, our Discord server is the perfect community hub! You can join other readers to discuss theories, share your favorite moments, and connect in real time.

To join the conversation, find us on Discord:

https://discord.gg/FGHQTYu8yM

Your support, in any form, means the world to me. I couldn’t do this without you, and I hope to see you there! ❤️

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