19. The Echo #3
Heron looked over his shoulder, his brow creased.
“Florabelle, I didn’t want you to know how it felt to realize that these…
these people you so adore could have been your nightmare and not your dream.
” He sighed, diffusing for a quiet moment as he fixed ahead.
“I couldn’t let you live the way Elizabeth did,” he said softly.
Muttering the words like a promise repeated to himself, Heron said, “I won’t make it easy for this world to break you. ”
Wide-eyed, Flora remained still.
After a minute, Heron cleared his throat and took back the reins. “I hope you can forgive me for keeping you in the dark,” he said. His grip tightened as he added, “But even if you can’t, it was worth it—to see you happy. Playing by the water, smiling like you belonged.”
With her arms crossed tight, Flora sniffed and met Davy’s glare. Davy sniffled back, then nudged his sister slightly. “I once tried to sell you on Craigslist,” he whispered. “I think you can forgive fish man.”
With a grumble, Flora rocked forward, latching her arms over Heron’s shoulders. “Thanks, Heron,” she mumbled, resting her cheek on his shoulder. “For everything.”
Heron patted her arm as she squeezed. With a soft smirk, he said, “Love you, kid.”
“I know, bird man. I love you, too.”
The rest of the short journey to Asilia was quiet, marked only by the steady creak of the wheels and the occasional rustling of wind through the leaves. Flora watched anxiously as the dense autumn trees began to thin and give way to the vast plains of Asilia.
Gradually, the mirage of the city came into focus: a charming citadel of white towers and twisting spires. Flora had seen it all before, but her brother gawked in awe and excitement.
Flora managed a charmed smile, but her thoughts lingered on the new revelations.
She wondered: what else had they hidden from her?
All this time, what if the “Sorrow” was where she was meant to be?
The pieces of her story, pieces she hadn’t even known were missing, were coming together just as her world was falling apart.
As they crested a hill, the white city gates came into view, tall and imposing. They were flanked by guards clad in gleaming armor, their spears catching the sunlight. The hum of distant voices echoed across the plain. The familiar sound filled Flora with a mix of relief and trepidation.
“Halt.” The carriage slowed as they approached the gates, which for the first time Flora had ever seen, were closed. A guard stepped forward, his face stern as he raised a hand. “Halt for an inspection.”
Heron nodded, his tone measured and calm. “Understood.”
The guard approached cautiously, leaning forward as he assessed each of them, searching for an ominous emptiness in their eyes. He sighed finally, straightening his stance and gesturing for the gates to open. He nodded to Heron and gave an Asilian salute. “Welcome home, Commander.”
The gates groaned open, revealing the bustling streets of Asilia, with shouting merchants offering wares for Asilian glass, giggling children darting between carts, and flustered townsfolk hurrying to begin their errands for the day.
The air smelled of fresh bread, roasted chestnuts, and the faint metallic tang of the smithies.
They rolled through the chatter of the lively streets, the clacking of hooves finally slowing as they approached the massive fountain at the heart of Asilia.
Its cascading water glimmered in the sunlight as it poured down around the intimidating statue of some long-dead king.
Beyond it, a broad marble staircase led to the foot of the castle.
There, a familiar face awaited, with a new one grinning behind her shoulder.
“Florabelle!” Aonia greeted eagerly as Heron helped Flora out of the carriage. “No trouble on the road, I suppose?”
“Nia, where is he?” Flora asked, unable to mask the fear that sharpened her voice.
“Ah… right,” Aonia said, folding her hands at her waist. “Aria here will take you to him.” The woman at her hip stood fidgeting her fingers together excitedly.
Her dim green eyes glimmered behind thin-framed glasses, and her reddish-brown hair, tied in a haphazard bun, seemed to mirror her chaotic energy.
“Florabelle!” she exclaimed, offering a welcoming hand. Her enthusiasm bordered on overwhelming, and Flora heard Heron mutter something under his breath behind her.
Flora reached out hesitantly to shake Aria’s hand, but the woman’s grip was firm and unwavering.
Aria’s smile broadened into something wild and startlingly familiar, with flashes of Sona’s unbridled eccentricity.
Beneath Aria’s eye was a delicate, lacey tattoo—the mark of a cleric.
It was hardly noticeable under the shadow of her glasses, and the subtle brown color almost made it look like a birthmark.
Without warning, Aria tugged Flora forward, her energy like a whirlwind. “Come, come, come along with me!” she sang, her tone light and melodic as she pulled Flora up the stairs, leaving the others behind.
“I’ll be back in a bit!” Flora called to Davy, who stood looking thoroughly entertained with one brow raised.
“Wait—Aria, where are we going?”
“To answers,” Aria chirped, her voice teasingly cryptic.