Chapter 23. Blessings.
The once rainbow-colored stained glass now carried bleak colors, as though a shadow swept through the castle, draining the spirit from the orphanage. Children’s laughter still sounded from the main street of Faris, yet it was fainted by the gloom of the broken roads.
“Cordelia!” Charlotte ran towards me from across the foyer: the wooden doll she was playing with long forgotten. “I missed you greatly! Oh, how I missed you! How I missed you!” Her hands wrapped around me, almost knocking me to the ground.
“I missed you too, dear.” I returned her tight embrace, my hands brushing over her loose curls.
“Are you feeling better?” Concern swept over her face when she pulled away slightly. “I really hope you are feeling better.”
“I am.” I smiled at her, fixing a fold on her sleeve. “Much better.”
Charlotte’s lips stretched into the brightest smile I’d ever seen her wear as she tightened her hands around me once more.
Florence disappeared into the depths of the orphanage, a dozen children following after her. Charlotte and I stood at the threshold of the castle for a long while before the girl let go of our embrace, grabbing my hand into hers. “Come! I have to show you the drawing I made of Silver!” She skipped towards the stairs, her hand pulling me forward.
The room Charlotte resided in carried three beds and a small mirror in the corner. Children’s paintings occupied every inch of the light blue walls, each bed had a name carved onto it.
“Here!” Charlotte passed me the parchment from under her pillow. “Do you like it?”
“I love it!” I studied her drawing. Silver sat in the center of parchment, the bright crescent Moon hung above his head, illuminating his gray fur. “It’s beautiful.” I smiled despite the unease that grew within me the longer I looked at the painting.
The painting was beautiful.
Too beautiful.
No child could replicate such a piece, no matter their talent and skill. The details of each stroke of the brush, the combination of color, and the perfect technique, beamed through the parchment.
“It’s perfect." I swallowed, returning the drawing to Charlotte.
Charlotte’s smile grew bigger as she put the painting back underneath the pillow. “Would you like to playdollswith me?” She crooked her head, waiting for my answer.
“I would love to.” I nodded as Charlotte pulled me out of the room, back to the foyer that carried many wooden toys and the spirits of children who will never know mortality.
Tears had filled Charlotte's eyes when it had been time for Florence and I to leave. I only had myself to blame for her heartache: were I to never allow our closeness, she wouldn’t know pain once it was time for our separation.
No matter my sincerest promises of visiting here, we both knew one day I wouldn’t be able to fulfill it. One day would be the last time we see each other, and I despised myself for the pain my death might bring her. The pain I was far too familiar with...
“May I ask you a question?” I asked Florence as we walked the empty streets of Faris: not a soul strolled by, making Faris feel abandoned.
“Of course, anything.” Florence walked on the brick road, caring not for how disturbing the emptiness was. The snowflakes fell onto her blushed cheeks, her sunshine smile melting the coldness.
“You told me once: you were not bitten, but reborn,” I started. “I was wondering if... if...” I sighed as the words wouldn’t come out. “If my siblings...”
“There is no way of knowing, Cordelia.” Florence met my gaze. “Each soul chooses a different path, and only the Moon is privy to such knowledge.”
I nodded as the disappointment spread through my heart, making it ache.
“I am sorry.” Florence stopped in the middle of the road, facing me. “It is the greatest pain to endure: losing your loved ones. I wouldn’t wish on anyone. There is no salvation but time.” She held my hands.
I swallowed the tears that threatened to spill as the back of my eyes burned.
“As much as it pains me to say—” Florence’s lips turned into a thin line, her sunshine hands warmed my heart so slightly. “The eternity forced upon small children is not the same as it is for you and me. To be trapped in a young body for centuries can be maddening.” Her dark brown eyes stared into my soul. “I see it everyday: the fight between an old spirit and a child’s mind. It is truly heartbreaking.”
I nodded, though my selfish heart refused to accept her words, despite seeing it firsthand.
A single tear escaped my eyes, sliding down my cheek: Charlotte's unchild-like gaze flashing in my mind. “Charlottetold me the Bloodlake Castle used to be her Mother’s?” I remembered our last conversation in my room.
