15. The Flower
The Flower
The cool, crisp air of the night kissed Flora's exposed shoulders.
She gave little thought to the family she had left worrying a world away.
Her mother would be spending a rare morning off pacing through the living room, knowing full well that her daughter now stood in the darkness of early night in another world.
Rachel approached Flora as they waited, his voice trembling as he whispered, “I’m sorry I told Perri that I saw you walking out of Sona’s hut that night.
” He tried desperately to meet her eyes, though she resisted.
“I didn’t think he’d take things into his own hands so quickly.
Sleepwalker or not, you didn’t deserve… that. ”
Flora looked up at the strange man, a genuineness in his eyes that she had never seen before. She sighed.
“I don’t blame you,” she said, doing her best to offer a smile. “You’re living the same nightmare as the rest of us.”
For the first time since Flora had known him, Rachel smiled.
“I have to ask, though,” Flora started. “Are you sure it was me you saw?”
Rachel scrunched his brow and nodded. “Or, I suppose… something that looked just like you.”
Flora sighed, and there was a little comfort in hearing Thaola’s newest suspicions confirmed. Noec would be comforted, at least.
“Though,” Rachel continued, “I swear your hair was a little different.” He paused for a moment, then added, “Copper almost, and shorter, like you had it a few years back.” He shrugged. “But who knows. They say I’m crazy, after all.”
Flora chuckled, and Rachel offered her one more grin and a nod before rejoining the grieving crowd.
“Huh,” Flora wondered quietly.
As the ceremony began, Flora and Mayra carried baskets brimming with glowing night lilies, their radiance a sharp contrast to the hallowed darkness. Each villager took one for Sona, one for Perri. Above, a starry sky swirled with thin clouds and a bright crescent moon.
Sona’s casket and Perri’s box were processed through the village along the glowing length of Crescent Creek.
Close behind followed Perri and Sona’s parents, Kestra and Ross, their hands clasped together tightly.
With loving hands, the night lilies were placed into the creek as it flowed alongside the procession, their dim light intensifying the moment they touched the water.
The inhabitants of the Shrouded Village waited silently at the place where Crescent Creek poured into Crescent River. As the procession reached them, Flora took one last look at the face of her mentor, a whimsical beauty still somehow present on her lifeless face.
Sona believed in three things with certainty.
First, she believed in knowledge as power, as though it granted a magic greater than wielding fire in her hands.
Second, she believed in Lunara—not as a person, but as an energy—like an ocean to which every river flows.
And, thirdly, Sona believed in life as a privilege and not a promise.
Dreams were meant to be chased, people were meant to be loved, and life was meant to be lived.
We all die in the end, Sona often said. But not all of us die having lived.
Wherever Sona and Perri ventured next, Flora hoped that all Sona’s questions would finally find answers. And maybe, too, Perri would be laughing again.
The villagers placed the casket and the box into the open water.
A night lily still hummed faintly in Flora’s hand—a tiny shard of what Sona believed to be an Emyrian soul.
Smiling through tears, Flora tossed the glowing flower into the air, watching as it twirled gently down to the water.
There, it joined the others, igniting the river with a brilliant, radiant light.
The flowers sailed onward, their light fading as they floated off toward the distant sea.
Kestra sobbed into Ross’s arms as the luminous glow faded in the distance, their only children fading with it. Flora sucked in her lip, turned away, and shut her eyes. She couldn’t stand to watch.
Breathing out slowly, Flora opened her eyes.
There was a slight movement upstream that caught her attention, and Flora tensed suddenly, trying to trace the shape in the dark.
There was a silhouette against the moonlit trees, a dim light catching the flyaways of his light hair.
He placed a glowing flower into the water, its light blending with the others as the parade of blossoms sailed by.
For a fleeting moment, she felt his eyes on her.
Slowly, his outline melted away, swallowed by the shadows of the trees as the light of the stars escaped him.
He’s safe, Flora thought to herself.
The chill of the autumn night began to settle her spirit, from the sparkling stars above to the faint glow of the river below. For a moment, Flora even smiled. How lucky she was, for having had the chance to know the brilliant souls to whom they bid a tender farewell.
“Goodnight,” Nia said softly, still caught in the solemnity of the evening. Grease helped her up to the saddle from where he stood on the stone path as Flora wished them both a safe journey home. “What if Noec…” she trailed off, her worried countenance deepening.
“Don’t worry, Nia. He can make it through this,” Flora said, attempting to ease her friend’s fears. “He can make it through anything.”
Aonia wiped her tear-streaked face and replied, “We can only hope,” before riding off into the night.
The rest of the villagers slowly made their way back to their homes, their murmurs fading into the tranquil silence of the world around them. Flora stepped foot on the familiar path, but it felt wrong to walk back to the spring without him.
“Florabelle,” Heron called. Flora turned to see him and Elia walking toward her from the river. They both had the same solemn, bittersweet smile as they approached. “Before you go…” he started. He shared a sweet look with Elia. “Thank you.”
“You’ve become the daughter the world wouldn’t let us have,” Elia said to Flora, wrapped in her husband’s arm.
“Oh, come here.” Flora found herself fighting a smile as Elia pulled her into a warm embrace and kissed her forehead.
“Thank you,” Elia whispered, “for being the bright little flower in that dark forest.”
They both sniffled and smiled, and Elia wished Flora a peaceful day at home before heading back to the Eldon house. Still, Heron stayed behind.
Heron walked Flora back to Lunara’s Spring, a ceremonious journey she often dreaded, as it usually marked the end of her time with Noec. Still, his quiet presence was grounding. And it was nice not to be alone.
Heron plucked a night lily from the grass for Elia. “After so much sadness, maybe this will bring her a sliver of joy,” he said, studying it in his hand for a moment. “Florabelle,” he began, “do you remember what happened yesterday? With the water and Noec?”
“Yeah,” Flora said numbly, her ears chilled by the nighttime breeze as she looked on. “I didn’t think it would heal him.”
“I don’t know that it did,” Heron muttered. “Not entirely.” His eyes glanced up from the flower to her. “I think he was dead,” Heron continued. “At least, it seemed that way. I’ve seen people die in the water with far lesser injuries.”
“What do you think was different?” Flora asked quietly.
Heron sighed, dropping his hand and facing her. “A Sleepwalker was there,” he replied simply. “You were there.”
Flora tilted her head and furrowed her brow slightly.
“When you were crying, in the village, over by the water,” Heron continued hesitantly, “the water… changed. Around Noec’s body, through his veins.” He paused, thoughtful. “He survived, and he shouldn’t have. Sona had said that you could heal, but I had no idea you could do it on your own.”
Flora blinked, uncertain if she’d heard him right. “Sona… never mentioned a thing to me,” she said.
Heron sighed. “I know.” He beckoned her and fixed ahead. “Come, let’s just… worry about one thing at a time.”
Flora should have argued, should have pressed for more information. But she was spent, and she knew Heron was, too.
When they arrived at the spring, Heron lingered, just as she did. Together, they stood alone, gazing into the depths of the forest that loomed just uphill, where the dark trees faded into obsidian, lit only by the few lilies that vined above the waterfall.
“It’s almost noon back home,” Heron said, gently nudging her toward the water. “And it’s almost midnight here.”
But Flora stared down at the water, and she knew she wasn’t ready to step into a new day. She didn’t want to leave, not until he was home.
“Noec can get through this,” Heron said. “And you and I can, too.”
Flora nodded and breathed deeply. She met his reserved smile, forced, yet ever-genuine with care, and she was struck by an ache of gratitude as strong as sorrow.
How lucky she was, to never be made to suffer alone.
“Thanks, Heron,” she said quietly. “Thanks for spending your care on a stranger.”
“You’re no stranger,” Heron replied, a tentative hand touching her shoulder just briefly. “But don’t forget about the people who care about you back home. I’m sure they’d want to help you carry the weight of all this, if you’d only let them.”
Flora creased her brow, staring into the reflection of the moon and stars.
“Secrets,” he added, “tend to grow heavier with time. You and I know that well.” Flora scoffed lightly, and he had to know exactly why. But, he was right; Heron was always right. Flora sighed deeply.
“Have a good day, Florabelle,” Heron said. “Remember that your family will be waiting for you in the morning.”
With her eyes, she smiled just slightly. “Goodnight,” she said, and kicking off the shoes Sona had handed down to her, Flora stepped into the cold, tingling water.
The pieces broke apart, and a wave of lethargy struck Flora’s mind as the world dissolved around her. Flora closed her eyes and murmured, “And… good morning.”
Heron had been way more correct than he’d probably meant to be.