Page 121 of Daughter of the Serpent

“Rederick wanted me to suffer. That’s why he chose her - to get tome.” Her voice cracked.

She could feel Axel’s hand in her hair, threading his fingers through it with a striking gentleness.

“I should have never met her, never let my mother come to the rekindling.” She cried. “It’s my fault.”

Axel's voice was a murmur at her ear, grounding and unyielding. “It wasn’t your fault, Sylvie.”

But her pain was a storm, and she shook her head fiercely, her voice breaking. “How can I go on, knowing she died because of me? My mother will never forgive me... I can’t forgive myself.”

He hesitated, his hand brushing her shoulder, before the muffled sounds of laughter and footsteps drew them back. “Come,” he whispered, his touch both steady and uncertain. “Let’s go somewhere.”

Desperate to escape the suffocating walls of the temple and the mess she had made at the training grounds, she followed Axel into the woods, seeking refuge from prying eyes and wagging tongues. Hersteps were heavy as she trailed behind him, her eyes puffy and red rimmed as they fixed on the forest ahead. She wondered where they were going, where he possibly could be taking her now, yet as her feet sunk into the soft earth, and her eyes skimmed the familiar branches, she found herself no longer caring. Wherever they went now would be better than the shadow that clouded her thoughts, and the hypocrisy of the temple walls. Though she knew with the trials only days away she should be pouring her time and energy toward her training, she found herself numb. Everything that had seemed so important had lost its flavor, turning to ash in her mouth.

How could any of that possibly matter now?

Her own life, woes - seemed meaningless when such innocence had been taken from this world.

Despite the conflicting emotions that raged inside, each step deeper into the heart of the forest seemed to lighten her thoughts, her energy beginning to blend into something more than just utter despair and hopelessness. Maybe it was the trees, the spirits, or the magic she could sense rippling from every branch and vine - but whatever it was, seemed to help her come back to herself, to the present moment.

It was astonishing how quickly everything had changed in only a few days.

Despite all the pain, death, and grief - life had sprung. Lush green grass had grown tall, trees and bushes burst with budding flowers and fresh new leaves. The wind swept through the forest with a gentle caress, swaying the newly budded branches with tender care. Birds flew above, singing their precious songs. Here no worry could follow, here no scream or dread could sound, here there was only the packed earth underfoot, beaten by the steady rhythm of their footsteps.

Silence lived between them as they continued to hike through the forest, surrounded by large ancient trees with gnarled roots and twisted trunks, following the winding path deeper than they had ever before. When her muscles finally did protest, she found reliefwhen Axel stopped abruptly upon the trail. They had come to a glade, so rich and lavish the grass looked like puffs of cloud, dotted with colorful blossoms. Sylvie resisted the urge to go and touch it, feel it between her fingertips, to go and sprawl herself atop it, like she used to as a girl in winter with the large mounds of snow.

Axel's voice was hushed as he spoke, his eyes roving, searching. "This is it.”

She looked at him, and his eyes sparkled with something new, something different. “Where is this exactly?” She asked.

“You will see soon enough.” His gaze steadied, something almost mischievous flickering in his expression. “It only appears to those who know how to look.”

“And you do?” She studied him, unused to this version of him. Usually, he held himself like a coiled spring, but here, in this hidden glade, he seemed softened, relaxed.

“I will show you.” He stepped closer, his hand moving to her shoulder, his warmth steadying, his voice weaving a current through the silence. “Close your eyes.”

She let her eyes drift shut, a reluctant sigh escaping her lips, half wary, half intrigued.

“Feel.” His fingers lightly grazed her skin, igniting small sparks. Her heart beat faster, tension pooling in her core.“Draw on your magic,” he murmured, his voice warm against her ear. “Let it flow through you.”

A hum of power stirred within, growing stronger with his guiding hands. He cupped her face, his thumbs gently pressing her eyelids, the sensation grounding her, instantly threading warmth into her body.

He lingered, and for a fleeting moment, everything else faded - her pain, her weariness, the weight of her grief. There was only warmth, only this closeness, only him.

“Sylvie.” His voice rumbled, and for a moment she relished the sound, her other senses heightened as her eyes stayed closed. “I know all you see now is the anger, the grief.”

She held her breath.

“But I have brought you here to show you that there is still life. That despite everything - goodness still exists.” He inhaled and she felt it shift the air between them.

Her heart thrummed in her chest.

“But you must be willing to see it. To set your eyes upon it, to open your heart, and let the magic show you.”

His words moved through her like a spell, all her senses on edge.

“Are you willing?”

Her breath trembled, caught in the space between his words and her grief. She hesitated, unsure of what would come next but slowly agreed, inclining her head ever so slightly.

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