Withered flowers

Lighting in the room shifted as the clouds passed in front of the sun, already high in the warm summer sky. The room smelled of the mixture of dried flowers placed hanging from hooks in the ceiling, faint smoke from the stove, and the muddy water which little Sophia used to wash the potatoes in, scrubbing them with a well-used small vegetable brush, perfect for her small fist. Crouching on the cracked tiles of the kitchen floor, a porcelain vat decorated with painted winter flowers was filled with cold water. Sophia felt the stinging sensation of the chill numbing the tips of her fingers, while the lovely color of pale yellow potatoes began to show from underneath all the dirt.

A ten-year-old child home alone was hardly anything new, but there were few rules for the young Sophia while her mother, Harriett Dilamor, and father, Gregory Dilamor, worked at the largest paper factory on the Continent of Frahan, in the Land of Agathen’s Royal Kingdom Capital.

Rule number one: Do not open the door for anyone knocking. Not even if they introduce themselves as friends of the family. Rule number two: Only one lantern is to be lit and kept beside at all times. And rule number three: Never create a fire on the stove or the stone oven. Mother Harriett would make sure to warm their small two-room house through the darkening evening, enough to hold the warmth inside until dinner time the next day.

Still, those rules never forbade her from beginning the preparations for dinner, thus Sophia tucked the hem of her dress behind the crook of her knees and worked diligently while humming the well-known children’s tale of the Summer's Dandelions.

A song about dancing dandelions who enjoyed the summer breeze and ended up floating away from their mother. Sophia always found the song rather sad, until Mother Harriett explained how they would end up growing into fine young flowers themselves, after finding their spot in the vast world of wandering tiny seeds alike.


Sophia found the ending of the song soothing, and had asked if she, as well, would one day leave in the soft soothing summer breeze, which is when Mother Harriett answered in a soft tone of voice, agreeing.

Such a thought seemed like years from now to a young child who only wished to live the eternity with her loving, doting parents. Even if the dandelions had a happy ending of growing beautiful and tall far away from their parents, such grown-up steps felt distant, unreachable, and, in her opinion, completely unnecessary.

Warm breeze of the summer’s dawn,


Sky of the pink and blue,


We see the grass and ground and roots,


And sleep until all melt for new.

The only wooden clock on the wall, with two tiny decorative birds on top of it facing each other, ticked as the small metallic pendulum swayed gently—1 pm. It would still be a few long hours until Sophia’s parents would end their usual workday, but she did not mind. There were still many tasks she could begin and finish until then: sweeping the floors, again. Bring the dry washcloths in from hanging outside their bedroom window. Those, for example.

After washing the last potato, Sophia took a peeler knife that had a wooden handle and a slightly bent blade. The one which Father Gregory had warned her of many times, each time she used said knife, to be exact. He was a very protective father, as an understatement. But on top of that, he was the funniest man Sophia had ever met in her short, entire life.

Not that she had met many, of course, but they would often bring her to the fairs by the Central Square and Town’s Market, and none of those adults was even half of the fun that her father was.

All the adults seemed to talk about was finances, job occupations, and the current gossip of the Royal Family. Sophia found such topics terribly boring and couldn’t understand the fascination that the adults had, but even when being immersed in the conversations, once met with the eyes of Father Gregory, he’d make a funny sneer while crossing his eyes as if to let her know they were on the same page. Sophia would always giggle, knowing her father did not mind such topics himself. He’d much rather talk about Mother Nature and what lessons she had in store for them.

Each time spring arrived, every other Sunday, he’d take Sophia outside the Kingdom Capital of Agathen and into the Silken Forest. First, they had to cross the Sobbing Maiden’s Bridge, which got its name from the tale of the young lovers, separated by the war a hundred years ago. When the Continent of Frahan was once an Empire. Five Lands under one above all. The story of unfulfilled love would always make Sophia try to suck in the sob, eager to escape, thus understanding the name of the bridge to be quite appropriate.

They would hunch over deep green moss and shallow shrubs, while Father Gregory would read his notebook and share his knowledge with little Sophia. His eyes and the subtly fastening speed of speech, once particularly interesting points were made, taught Sophia how much he truly loved the subject. More specifically, the healing abilities of many plants growing all around them.

He said that those plants, herbs, and roots were more valuable than any piece of gold that the neighboring Land of Berull could ever find from their flowing streams in the gold mines of Muruak.

Then, they would find a comfortable tree to lean against, eat their lunch prepared by Mother Harriett, and Sophia would pick some of nature's gold nearby while Father Gregory would draw and illustrate a new plant in his notebook.

He would teach Sophia how to draw and write, so that when she turned seven years old, she had her own notebook as a gift. Light brown leather cover with a string to tie around the button at the front. Her initials, S.D., as for Sophia Dilamor, had been pressed on the surface. Sophia had hugged the notebook close so hard that she slept proudly with it for five nights after receiving the treasured gift.

First, she’d copy the most important pages from her father’s notebook, and then, she’d begin to make her own. Side by side, father and daughter. Leaning against the huge tree, safe from the blazing sun, with identical tight lips as they concentrated to perfect the day's expeditions on those empty pages.

Sophia loved her father. He had slightly wavy, dirty blond hair, glasses, and defined cheekbones. His nose had a small bump in the middle. His hands were more delicate than the other men she saw from time to time when outside running errands, but they seemed to go rougher and the skin harsher by each passing year.


Despite that, his fun-loving nature never changed. He’d lift Sophia with one swing over the shoulder and spin around until she cackled like a little lid of a kettle filled with boiling water. He’d tell stories, sing funny songs, and dance along with them. He’d hide tiny flowers in Mother Harriett’s hair through their Saturday picnics by the Gethel Park until she noticed, making her blush while little Sophia giggled behind her tiny fingers, as she had kept quiet so that Father Gregory could succeed in his decorative endeavor.

Harriett was a loving, caring, and warm mother who sang the most soothing lullabies and boiled the best soups. She would occasionally stand with her legs wide and hands on her hips, eyebrows frowning with a ladle in one fist, while Father Gregory and little Sophia were found in their mischievous tricks, but half serious only, as she’d always stop there and, despite her calm nature, would always participate in her own unique way. Allowing them to have fun while she enjoyed the view. Mother Harriett’s hair was the same as Sophia’s. Golden locks of wavy sunny clouds, which grew oddly fast down to the lower back.

Although Sophia inherited her father’s eyes, mixed with green and light brown, her delicate features were from Mother Harriett. A well-known beauty from the Eastern Agathen, Town of Wrethn, who, despite the expectations, married a man from a woodcutter's family from the Western Agathen, Town of Brifena. Small and quite isolated since it was on the side with no borders of any neighboring Lands nearby, nor bigger towns where people would need to pass by.


Thus, not accepted by either side of the families, they moved to the Kingdom Capital.

She loved braiding little Sophia’s hair while telling stories of Princesses of the East and Goblins of the North. She’d gently stroke her back when it was time to sleep, and Mother Harriett’s scent of flower petals lingering all around her would soothe Sophia with its sweet familiarity.

From each trip to the forest outside the Kingdom Capital of Agathen, Father Gregory brought a bouquet of wildflowers, which Mother Harriett then hung from the ceiling to dry and bless their home with the lasting scent, then pleasantly stuck to their hair and clothing.

Sophia finished peeling the potatoes and dropped them in a pot already placed on top of the stove, with clean water ready for the soup. She placed the lid back on top to make sure no dust could fall in, and went by the entrance to fetch the broom.

Sweeping the floor, she began to sniff with her nose, more and more until creating small wrinkles. She smelled smoke. Mortified, she went by the stove to make sure she hadn't accidentally set a fire in it. Silly thing to be afraid of. You would think one would remember doing such a difficult task, but she was always told to be quite a daydreamer, going about her tasks with half of her head in the clouds sometimes. But no, the stove was cold, and the potatoes still soaked in the cold, clean water waiting to be boiled.

Sophia wondered where the thick, rich smell was coming from. It wasn’t the usual result of cooking or heating their small house, tightly built side by side, continuing the arching row of houses until the cobblestoned Quarter Streets began —many thin labyrinth-like alleyways which the young students of the Academy District called The Devils Tricks, for it was easy to get lost in the streets if one did not know their way. The Quarter Streets connected the houses, the Academy District, the Town’s Market and Night Market, and finally, the Central Square in the middle of it all, where the Town’s Hall stood tall.

Most buildings were made out of stone, concrete walls, and large logs. The shops, bakeries, flower shops, and blacksmiths had personalized signs hanging on top of the entry, and paid much attention to their display windows to lure in more customers. The streets were kept clean by those working in the Town’s Hall, after all, the highest point of Agathen’s Central Square was on a hollow hill, the Palace of the Royal Family.

Frahan consisted of five Lands, with each ruled by its own Kingdom. Those descended from the Royal bloodline, which could be traced back many decades. Agathen had the Royal Family of Magdam, currently led by King Gerald Magdam II. He was a man much more soft-spoken in comparison to his father, the previous King. Well-liked by the citizens, receiving appreciation from the noble families.

Queen Milafin Magdam was also a well-liked figure in the eyes of everyday workers. She was seen as the mother of the nation, for her deep love and care for Agathen’s orphans was talked about even beyond the harbor of the Great Ocean of Guruld. Queen Milafin donated each year to the foundation of Agathen’s orphanages, which many years ago had begun its operation and offered new jobs even for the Sisters of the God—Yumne. Thus, the orphanage had been gifted the name Yumne Gera, meaning God’s Children in an ancient language from the years of the past.

Sophia felt the stinging smell of the smoke thicken, so much so that she went through each nook and cranny sniffing her nose low and up as if trying to track the source of it. She went on her knees and lowered down to look under the bed, and found nothing more than a few balls of dust in the corner, making a mental note to sweep the furthest spot after she'd discovered the current mystery.

Pulling herself up from the cold, patchy concrete floor, she hit the back of her head on the bottom of the bed and let out a loud squeal. She whined softly as she rubbed the stinging bump, but got over it quickly, dusted the hem of her light brown skirt and white apron that had a single pocket, hanging from the loose stitches on one side. Her white shirt with many buttons at the front was two sizes too big, but she did not mind, for her mother once told her she’d grow into it one day. A thought which always made Sophia’s determined smile gleam with expectations and impatience.

Now, Sophia began to hear a muffled sound of a commotion outside. It sounded as if adults were gasping and raising their voices for reasons unknown. It wasn’t loud, for not many could be outside, loitering their day away, since many adults and even children of the right age, living in the residential district, were working by noon.

Sophia returned to the kitchen and went by the window. She figured opening one, just one ajar, would not be so bad. Doors were not allowed to be opened, but occasionally she’d let in the fresh, warm air. She placed her hand carefully on the lowest wooden panel of the window to support it, while the other hand reached for the metal hook keeping the window locked. She opened the window and leaned outside, seeing only five people on the streets, all gaping in the same direction.

A thick, heavy cloud was rising behind the residential district, and a little further.

’’Shut your window, fool!’’ One of the ladies noticed her leaning outside from the window, ’’Your parents ought to give you a scolding for letting the smoke in!’’

Sophia flinched, gasping with the realization as if a cold metal pipe had been placed against her back, forcing her to straighten. She had not known where the smell was coming from, and certainly did not know her actions would make it worse. She shut the window with haste and foisted the metal hook through the ring, locking the window. She took a couple of steps back, nervously fidgeting with her fingertips, wondering if her parents would recognize the horrible smell and feel disappointed in her for not knowing better to keep the windows shut at all costs.

Not able to do much for now, Sophia found the broom again. She went by their beds to lie down on her stomach and reached the furthest corner. Getting back up, delighted with a job well done, Sophia heard more commotion coming from outside. A loud horn being blown, a rattling sound of wheels bumping against uneven cobblestones, and voices of men yelling to get out of the way, move, make room for them to pass.

Sophia let the broom fall from her slender, tiny fingers and knock on the gray, colorless concrete floor when she rushed again beside the window, looking both ways with her cheek against the cold surface of the wavy glass.

There, her guess had been correct. It was one of the cars that Agathen’s Rescuers, as they were named, owned. Gifted by the Royal Family to well-selected workers in case a disaster of any sort, such as accidents or fires, should occur. Fire.

The thought lingered in Sophia’s mind. It was rare to see a car on the streets of Agathen’s Capital. Anywhere, really. Cars were useful on short distances, but would not be much of help going on longer trips due to the amount of cranking that needed to be done from the front of the car, and the thin metallic wheels, which would occasionally get loose and need attention mid-travel.

A horse, and if needed, with a good old carriage, still kept its spot as the most desirable traveling option. Of course, unless you were able to afford a train ticket on a train carriage with actual seats and windows. Most people below the working class travelled on wooden train carriages with not as much as a window, except for a small hatch which could be slid open. That is, if other passengers agreed.

Sophia watched with a wide innocent gleam in her eyes as the Rescuers in their majestic, ashy black car finally passed their house, rattling from the jumping caused by the uneven ground. One man was steering the large, thin wheel, two sitting beside him, and four more men held onto the sides, hanging outside with one leg only able to have a footing.

Not particularly safe, but better than nothing. The car had four large barrels on the pickup, tightly tied with a rope so they wouldn’t spill. The men yelled angrily and threw their hands to command the curious people away from the streets, not slowing down either. It should be the stupidity of the people standing in the middle of the street if they get hit. That was the mentality.

Soon enough, it got quiet once again. Eerily quiet. The smoke seemed to disappear from the air inside their house, which pleased the little girl, for maybe her parents wouldn’t notice that she had opened the window for a brief moment. That, or she had gotten used to the smell by now. Listing down her tasks with one finger after another, she gasped with a quick suck of air, then ran into the bedroom to open up the wooden hatches in front of the window.

’’The rags!’’ Sophia shrieked out loud as she remembered the clean washing cloths, which had been drying outside in the warm summer air, hanging from a small metallic pole that Father Gregory had installed for small clothing.


She had no other option but to open the window; at least now she could use it as an excuse to her parents as to why their house smelled of an ashtray, and quickly picked up the small cloths.

Earlier, when she opened the window, all she could hear was the people outside. But now, Sophia heard a faraway sound of faint screams. Not able to make any sense of their meaning. She smelled the smoke thicker than before, and could swear a dust of ash flew past her eyes.

A cat ran through the inner alleyway, in the opposite direction from where the Rescuers had gone with their car, and as Sophia looked up to the sky, she saw a huge swarm of white majestic swans heading the same direction. As if fleeing against the thick gray clouds.

Little Sophia gulped, feeling the bitter scent now on her taste buds. She took a step back and shut the window along with the wooden hatches, making the room lose all the natural light.

In the heat of the moment, she had forgotten the second rule: always keep the lantern near. Thus, she threw the clean, smoke-smelling rags on the bedside table and rushed back into the kitchen to make sure it had not been knocked over. Relieved of the tiny flickering flame in its contained space, Sophia sighed and swore to keep it at an eye distance at all costs. Realizing now, finally, for the first time in her young and naive mind of a child, that her fear must be someone else’s reality.

’’I hope everyone’s okay, Mr. Higgins.’’ Sophia went back to the bedroom and sparked a conversation with her teddy bear. A brown, well-loved, ragged bear with harsh fur and a missing eye from years of bathing with her, sleeping in the same bed in a tight hold, and those many trips outside.

She placed the lantern down a few steps from her, as mother and father had taught, so she wouldn’t accidentally knock it over, and reached for the bundle of rags she had placed on the bedside table. She sat on her calves and began to neatly fold them one by one, admiring some of the stitches that did not match the original, but which were proudly made by her. Those rags were the ones she’d use to practice sewing, and she was getting quite good at it if you did not mind her bragging a little.

Moments passed. Potatoes were peeled. Floors were swept. Rags were folded. And parents were still not arriving.

Sophia sat on the cheap pine wood chair around their kitchen table, hugging her knees to her chest, with her small chin resting on top. Watching the pendulum of the clock sway from left to right. People outside had gone back to their homes, perhaps for the ever-thickening smoke. All Sophia could hear was the ticking of the old, deep, dark wooden clock, minute after another, as the pointer moved yet again.

Hours passed. And after a while, it was past the time her parents would typically arrive home. It wasn’t like them to work overtime since they knew Sophia was home alone, and they did not like leaving her there unattended, although she had gotten used to those five days of the week.

Finally, after many exhausting minutes turned into hours of silence, Sophia heard commotion outside.

’’Mom—Dad!’’ She rushed to the window, only to see the son of the neighbors leap into the arms of his elderly mother, with his clothes ashy and a cloud of dark dust following behind.

His cheeks were dirty as if he had been working in the coal mines of the Southern Agathen’s Town of Emréla, the warmest place in all of Agathen, where the most important coal mines offered well-paying jobs for the locals. Sophia had only learned stories of the town, but had never traveled outside of the Kingdom Capital. Still, if she imagined anyone working there, they’d look like the neighbors' son did right in that moment.

’’He works at the paper factory where mom and dad work.’’ Sophia spoke to herself. A habit she had for staying many hours by herself, with the company of Mr. Higgins, of course.

A few more workers arrived home, all covered in dark dust like the person prior. They all shared the dirty, stained, and muddled clothing in common, but also the way they walked. Specific slumped shoulders as their families rushed to hug them, which confused little Sophia. On an average day, they would walk home together, wave to each other with a tired smile on their faces, and part ways.

Sophia began to feel something stirring in her heart, something she could not understand. But it made her feel uncomfortable, and she did not like it.

Now, it began to get dark outside. The warmth of the last night's fireplace and stove had dissolved into thin air, and the beginning of summer brought its chilly evening breeze, which tried its best to squeeze its way through the cracks of the windows, forcing Sophia to shiver.

She took the lantern and went to their bedroom to fetch her lovely baby blue cardigan, which Mother Harriett had used the beautiful style of embroidery to create lovely white and light pink flowers on the front pockets. A talent which Sophia hadn’t learned herself yet, for it seemed quite too meticulous and tedious for her liking. But the result that Mother Harriett would then show her would make her find a new appreciation for the talent.

Sophia pulled the cardigan on and hid her tiny fingers inside the long sleeves, away from the chilly air. The rooms of the house had become dark, and one single lantern was not enough at all, but she was not allowed to light another one, or the bigger one hanging from the ceiling. Not that she’d be able to reach it even when standing on a chair if she tried. With the lantern on her own small bedside table, she lay down on her bed and its thin mattress, staring at the empty bed of her parents.

’’What is taking them so long?’’ Sophia reached for Mr. Higgins and hugged it close before drifting into an unwanted sleep.

Tired and hungry, her nap felt as if it had lasted through the whole night, but it was even darker by the time a loud banging on the front door woke her up, with her heart nearly jumping out of her chest. Once—twice—three times, the banging continued when she finally stumbled her way to reach the door, thinking her parents must have forgotten their keys and had finally rushed home, eagerly banging on the door to get to her.

’’Mom! Dad!’’ Sophia reached for the round lock and almost rolled it while her other hand reached to turn the handle.

’’Miss Sophia Dilamor?’’ An unfamiliar voice could be heard answering from the other side, forcing Sophia to retrieve her hands, feeling a sense of panic. She had almost broken the first rule, and that wouldn’t do.

’’M— my parents, they’re not home.’’ She was able to answer with a tight throat.

Bang Bang Bang, the door was hit loudly and impatiently once again, this time frightening the small girl as she heard it loud and clear, and saw it even.

’’Is anyone home? Miss Sophia Dilamor?!’’ The man called again, ’’I do not think there’s anyone home. Are you sure they had a ten-year-old?’’

’’Yes, I am certain. Why else would I drag myself here? Just to make this horrendous day even longer?’’ A bitter voice of another man could be heard answering.

Sophia’s mouth went dry, and her lips pushed together in a tight straight line. This must’ve been the situation her parents had warned her about, and there was no way she’d fall for their tricks and open that door.

Once again, the loud banging sent shivers down Sophia’s spine, forcing her to push her hands against her ears to quiet the echo.

’’Please, go away!’’ Sophia found herself raising her voice, cracking from the lack of usage throughout the day and the nervous dryness of her throat.

’’See? I told you so.’’ She could hear the second man comment with a snarky tone.

’’Miss Sophia?’’ The first man, who presumably used his fist to almost bash his way through the door, used a much more approachable and softer tone, as if he had moved closer to make sure she heard without him raising his voice, ’’We are here to bear the heavy news regarding your parents.’’

’’What—’’ Sophia took a step towards the door, but halted immediately, for she had almost fallen for their obscene tricks, ’’My parents told me not to open the door for any stranger. Please, go.’’

’’Very well, we shall bring the news this way, then.’’ The man said, ’’A devastating fire has destroyed the west wing of the paper factory. Your parents, Mrs. Harriett Dilamor and Mr. Gregory Dilamor, along with a handful of other workers, have sadly lost their lives.’’ His voice softened even more by the time he finished.

Sophia blinked twice while staring at the glow seeping through the crack beneath the door and the shadows of the two men standing at the other side. The other one was staying still, and the other seemed to be more in a rush, judging by the way he kept shaking his right leg in a quick, anxious manner.

’’No.’’ Sophia covered her mouth with her cold fingers in the darkness, eyes large from the lies being told, ’’You are lying! My parents will come home, and I’ve even prepared the potatoes! I’ve swept the floors, and they ought to give me praise! I’ve folded the clean rags and reached the dust under the bed!’’ Her words came out in a disbelieving, desperate whine of a distrusting child.

’’Listen, you little brat!’’ The impatient man raised his voice but seemed to be stopped by the other one, as he did not finish his insult, ’’What?! She is getting on my nerves. We’ve worked hours with no time to rest, my throat and nostrils are filled with ash mixed with my own snot, and I am not in the mood to pamper an orphan!’’

’’Shut your mouth, you imbecile!’’ Even the calmer man seemed to become agitated now. But their words kept circling in Sophia’s disoriented, spinning mind. What they said made no sense at all, words she could not fathom.

’’My apologies, young Miss, but we have to do this.’’ The man with the nicer voice said, clearly facing the door once more, and in that same moment, Sophia noticed a thick metal crowbar stuck inside from beneath the door, closer to the hinges, and with a quick movement, the men stepped on the leverage and with a loud sound of shabby metal breaking in half, the hinges came undone in front of her eyes as the door began to fall towards her.

Sophia took quick steps back as the two men used their bodies to push the door down. Despite her dusting the floor so diligently, the fall still created small clouds after the impact.

’’Take her. We need to go.’’ The other man said, must’ve been the calmer one from the way his curved eyebrows showed more compassion compared to the other one, larger in size, even with his thick, heavy black eyebrows not hiding the distaste of having to scoop the little girl under his armpit, easily doing so with one arm despite Sophia trying to kick and scream her way off.

’’Let—me—go!’’ Sophia hit a few more times, kicking her legs behind furiously, ’’I need to wait here for my parents, and I cannot make them worry!’’ By now, she was sobbing the comfortless tears of her hopeless situation.

’’Let her down.’’ The other man said, his blond hair covered in what seemed like ash and sweat.

Sophia now realized what they were wearing. Neat dark gray jackets with thick tailored collars, a leather harness going through the chest and attaching to a belt, holding a knife. Pants made out of the same fabric and black boots on top, with the trousers tucked in. The badge of emerald green and gold on their chest was evident. The Rescuers, workers serving the Kingdom Capital.

They were not thieves nor kidnappers. Not there to steal her away. They were there on the orders of the Kingdom.

’’But—’’ Answered the other, his rough features complementing the harsh demeanor. Despite objecting at first, he yielded to the man’s request and lowered Sophia down, yet hovered behind her to make sure she wouldn’t try to run as soon as her feet touched the ground.

’’Look, little Miss Dilamor.’’ The kind man held two pieces of paper out as he lowered on one knee, like a Prince from Mother Harriett’s stories, with his handsome blue eyes and strong jawline.

Sophia sniffled her nose, making it wrinkle for a brief second each time. Her eyes began to feel a burning sensation as she noticed the smell of smoke once again rushing in because of the now broken door on her feet.

’’We are sorry to bring you the unfortunate news of your parents' passing. Today, as I said, the west wing of the paper factory where your parents had worked caught on fire due to the malfunction of a pulp mill, which had caught on fire due to falling on the side and creating a chain effect of—’’

’’Fior, I do not think she understands the details even if you try to explain.’’ The grumpy, arrogant man huffed annoyedly and earned a raised, competing eyebrow from the Prince-like man, in Sophia’s mind, as she tried to follow his explanation.

’’Here.’’ The Rescuer, Fior as his name seemed to be, handed the two pieces of paper, ’’These are the certificates of your parents' passing. I doubt you can read them, so if you need any assistance —’’ Rescuer Fior stopped as he noticed little Sophia’s eyes move from right to left, swiftly and smoothly. Her lips soundlessly and hastily spelled the words, reading as quickly as an adult would their long-awaited newspaper.

Sophia finished reading in no time, going back to read the title once more, stating the most important information: Death certificate, Name of the deceased, Cause of death, and lastly—Family and Relatives. Most of the names on the short list were people Sophia had never heard of before, except for her own.

Children: Sophia Dilamor. An only child.

She felt her hands beginning to shake. The wax of the coat of arms pressed, with the emerald green background and shimmering golden tree with millions of branches, did not lie. The Kingdom would not lie. These documents were as real as her red, painful eyes beginning to overflow with tears, creating more pain as they spread the smoke even further on her eye sockets.

’’We need to go. You are not the only one we have to still reach tonight, young child. Please understand.’’ Rescuer Fior placed a warm, reassuring hand on her slender shoulder, ’’You may take anything you can easily carry. No more. We shall give you a minute or two to gather your belongings. And then we have to be on our way.’’

Sophia’s quivering eyes raised to meet his. He was sorry, truly was. As if fighting his own feelings aside. Not like the other man, but Sophia couldn’t even see him standing behind her.

With a soft nod, Sophia turned around and went to the back corner where their bedroom was.
She stopped beside her parents' bed and touched their pillow with gentle fingertips. The two Rescuers had followed, waiting by the doorway to make sure she would not flee. Sophia lowered herself to bury her face in the pillow, inhaling the scent of her parents still lingering. The smoke hadn’t ruined it completely, yet. Tears left on the harsh fabric of the cotton linen, Sophia sobbed with faint hiccups as she opened the bedside table and took out her father’s notebook, then walked by her own bed to take Mr. Higgins before returning to those two men waiting.

’’Is that all?’’ Rescuer Fior was noticeably surprised, and Sophia answered with a mere soft nod, keeping her gaze down.

It was all she needed. Cardigan with Mother Harriett’s embroidery, reminding her of the Saturday picnics by the Gethel Park, a leather notebook with Father Gregory’s wisdom and memories of their trips in the woods every other Sunday. And Mr. Higgins. The well-loved teddy bear.

The last look Sophia ever glanced towards her warm, modest childhood home was the one last look she could muster from the small gap between the two large men escorting her away, and seeing the many bouquets of dried flowers hanging from the ceiling.

From then on, everything seemed to happen in a haze. Like a dream that seemed to continue without an end. The brief memorial service, endless hours sitting in a dull corridor with adults passing by. Sophia held on to her parents' Death Certificates and her other belongings dearly. She did not know where that empty corridor would eventually take her, nor did she care.

All Sophia wanted was her parents' warm embrace, her mother’s praise for how well she washed and peeled those potatoes, and them all enjoying the warm soup together. Her father ruffling her hair, making a joke about her being the cute raggedy doll from one of the shop's display windows, and Sophia then trying to mimic its funny expression, making her father laugh joyfully.

That is all she wanted, yet couldn’t have. So what was the point?

The corridor eventually led her on a train for the first time, although it did not excite her in the slightest. She did not get to sit on the train carriages with the windows and the seats, but in a wooden carriage with wooden hatches as windows. Sitting in a corner with other people around her, families, the elderly, and so on. Hugging the tote bag, which she was given to keep her few belongings safe. She hugged it so tightly that one would suspect it held the answer to all the secrets of the universe. So dear and precious.

Rescuer Fior did not accompany her, much to her disappointment, but an old Sister from the Yumne Gera Orphanage.

First, she found herself on the doorstep of the nearest relative— Agatha, her name was. They had traveled on the Eastern side of Agathen, the Town of Wrethn, where Mother Harriett had been born. In any other trip, Sophia would have been excited, ecstatic to the point of not being able to contain it in her small body. But not with these circumstances.

An old, bony lady met them with a sour look, with slim wrists and a black bun tied too tightly behind, which made the wrinkles on her old face eerily and terribly unnatural and smooth. She stared down at Sophia without hiding her disgust.

’’That child is not my problem!’’ She had stated while throwing the Death Certificate in the air, Sophia barely being able to catch it before it touched the ground. The woman was apparently an aunt of Mother Harriett’s, ’’She shouldn’t have married the woodcutter's son if she did not want to face the suffering!’’ The old hag shut the door in front of them with a loud bang as the final statement.

Second, third, and fourth relatives along the way had the same reaction. As if it was planned by them all along. They were all eager to point out their disapproval of Harriett and Gregory’s marriage from the beginning of their relationship, going as far as to blame them for their own ultimate fate.

You see, Harriett’s family had great expectations for their daughter to marry higher in society with her beauty and grace. But she, instead, fell in love with a lowly woodcutter's son, who did not have much family nor fortune to back him up, not much to gift altogether. Or so they thought.

Even if all he had was his undying love, Harriett and Gregory did not mind the relentless disapproval, resulting in the two eloping and beginning a new life somewhere far away from both of their families.

And they were happy.

’’There is one more—’’ Old Sister Ylia stared at the short list of relatives, ’’If he does not want you, you shall come with me and work at the orphanage until your sixteenth birthday.’’ She sighed and thus began another train ride.

Tired from the weeks of traveling, not seeing the end of it, Sophia was close to just requesting they go back to the Capital right now instead of wasting their time traveling through Agathen, from Mother Harriett’s hometown, Wrethn, to Father Gregory’s hometown on the Western side, Brifena. After all the rejections from the previous households, she did not see a reason for a distant grandfather to give much of a different verdict.

But then again, this might’ve been the only time in her entire life when she could see with her own eyes the streets where her parents had once run around and played as children in her age. In a way, those sights of the hills and the forests and the lakes brought comfort to her small, aching soul. Then, after one last rejection, she could finally be done and ready to scrub the cold, used, and damaged floors of the orphanage for years on end.

The horse carriage curved slightly on the gravel path between a thick forest of oak trees and all types of evergreen coniferous trees, in their most beautiful state of the year so far. The vibrant colors and the gleaming shimmer of the sun shining through, creating spotlights on the moss and grass, made Sophia jealous of the flowers and insects, and tiny worms who got to bask in the soft comfort of the heavenly bed created by the bewitched nature.

Sister Ylia was immersed in her Holy Book of Agathen's God Yumne, picking the gap between the front teeth and clicking her tongue in a distasteful manner, even from a ten-year-old’s point of view. Avoiding looking, knowing that she’d earn a rather annoyed glare from the Sister of God if she were caught looking her way. Instead, Sophia focused on the lovely view blessed through the window.

The Kingdom Capital was tightly built and busy, being the largest of all in Agathen, and situated in the middle, just a bit on the Southern side of the Kingdom, as it was not too far away from the Southern harbor, but not too close either. Perfect distance. Still, Sophia had never seen the ocean with her own two eyes. Only heard stories of the clear blue waters and wavy sand on the bottom, which felt pleasant underneath the touch of feet. The waves larger than any building in the Kingdom, and the dark, endless, and uninvestigated bottom of a million mysteries.

The ocean fascinated her. And even though the Eastern Town of Wrethn was truly beautiful and had plenty of forests surrounding it, the land was quite flat, for it was close to the border of the neighboring Land of Berull, being one of the first large towns that the merchants passed while delivering grand jewelry, silk, and sugar, which were the most noticeable trading items of the proud Berullians.

Still, it seemed like the Western Town of Brifena began to feel more preferable to young Sophia, even though it was the most remote from other borders, being far away from any other towns and any other borders of the Lands in Frahan.

Brifena had a lovely shade of forest, as the carriage curved from behind the tall trees and out on the open, revealing a large lake beneath them with the surface shining as if millions of tiny fairies danced in the summer day’s fair.

Sophia gasped, delighted as she pushed herself and the tiny hands against the window to get herself as close as possible.

’’Get your greasy hands off the window this instant.’’ Sister Ylia snarled from underneath her eyelashes. She was wearing the light gray tunic of a God’s Servant, a headwear of the same shade with a white symbol of the God, swirling like tree branches symbolizing the beginning of Agathen's grounds. The fabric hid her hair and hung down on her chest.

But Sophia did not listen. She did not think of a possible punishment coming her way. She did not care. Sophia reached the handle of the horse carriage's window and pushed it on the side, sliding effortlessly and making the gorgeous scenery even clearer.

They were on a road higher than the lake, on a hillside. The scent of the evergreen trees, lichen, and moss mixed with the slightly salty water hit her like being thrown at a basket filled with the word summer materialized.


Sophia had the air stuck somewhere in the middle of her throat, eyebrows curving up from the wonder as she leaned outside from the window, her waist-long, wavy, smooth golden hair being caught in the gentle wind, twirling it around. For the first time in weeks, a helpless smile painted her face as she closed her eyes to take in the scent once more.

Even Sister Ylia could not scold the child further— leaving her be, perhaps to enjoy the scenery herself, if just a little.

Once Sophia opened her eyes, she saw that the road curved even further, and below them began appearing houses, small and scattered mindlessly, until forming a small town hugged by forests and mountains on each side, one mountain forming a beautiful thin waterfall, letting it be safe to presume that the ocean of the Agathen’s most remote border was close, vast, and never ending.

The gravel path soon switched into smooth cobblestones, hardly making the carriage shake from them at all. They passed through the town and its bakery, the scent making Sophia realize the hunger that had bothered her since yesterday.

’’Close the window. Now.’’ Sister Ylia commanded firmly, thus Sophia complied and slid the window shut, then slumped her back against the wall of the carriage, leaning the back of her head, and stared at the townspeople whispering to each other about the sudden carriage and the God’s Servant sitting there with an unknown child.

Soon, after passing the shops, houses, different businesses, and a small, round Town Square, the cobblestones once again turned into a gravel path, going up a slight hill until stopping beside a low fence made out of carefully placed stones. A yard with a metallic wheelbarrow, a wooden shed, and a wooden cabin with two floors, it seemed. The whole yard itself was larger than Sophia’s family home in the Kingdom Capital.

’’Act accordingly. Do not speak unless given permission, for I do not trust what frogs could escape from that mouth of yours. If this also does not work—’’ Sister Ylia fixed Sophia’s hair roughly behind the ears and tucked the light baby blue cardigan too harshly from the collars, enough to make Sophia fear it’d tear, ’’—You will have to travel back with me, and begin the work by the orphanage. Immediately. And I doubt you want that either.’’

Sister Ylia did not wait for her response, not that Sophia had anything to say to begin with, as she opened the carriage door and stepped outside first, Sophia following close behind. Holding the beloved tote bag and its contents over one shoulder, crushed in both fists.

Sophia peeked from behind the Sister once she began to overly friendly introduce herself to someone who had just come out from the shabby shed, cleaning his hands with an already dirty rag. An older man, probably in his early fifties. He had a dirty white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, brown leather suspenders holding the pants, and boots that had seen better days. He had a stubble which had begun to turn gray from dark brown, and his hair was messy and uncut.

’’What's this 'bout, Sister?’’ The man had a raspy, hoarse, and intimidating voice. He did not seem like the type of man who would ruffle Sophia’s hair and make her laugh, yet apparently, this man was her grandfather on Father Gregory’s side.

Sophia did not see the resemblance at all. In fact, quite the opposite. But he hadn’t seen her yet at all, either.

’’Our visit is unexpected, I know.’’ Sister Ylia began, ’’But I am here to bear the grave news. As well as introduce you, Mr. Billford Dilamor, to someone.’’ She moved to the side, eagerly tucking a hand behind Sophia’s back and nearly shoving her to step forward.

Upon their eyes finally meeting, a small twitch in the corner of Billford’s eye could be seen for a mere second, unnoticed by most. But not by Sophia.

’’What is this about? I asked.’’ He did not seem to be in the mood for sugarcoating, his eyes stern and unamused.

Sister Ylia straightened her back once more, and Sophia couldn’t help but feel a little proud of the way the Sister seemed to finally go smaller in front of someone with more presence. A worthy opponent.

’’Well, it seems the news has not reached you yet. As you see, your son, Mr. Gregory Dilamor, and his wife passed away from a factory accident many weeks ago.’’ As she spoke, Sophia let the tote bags' handles slip and reached for the Death Certificates, already accustomed to the routine, and handed them to Billford, who yanked the papers from her small fingers without a single glance towards her.

’’And this young lady here is your only granddaughter, Sophia Dilamor. She is ten-years-old, Mr. Dilamor.’’ Sister Ylia tried to read the look on the man’s face, unable to make much of it.

Sophia had learned that her mother’s side of the family seemed cruel, but they learned about the two passing away weeks ago and wouldn’t even bother to send a letter to the father of the deceased, at least. An action, or lack of one, felt as if the peak of cruelty in her opinion.

’’So, what brings you all the way here?’’ Billford handed the certificates back to young Sophia, still avoiding her eyes, ’’If I am not mistaken, her side of the family lives closer to the Kingdom Capital and has more members than our side of the family. There is no other than me.’’ He seemed to faintly shrug.

’’We have traveled for weeks on end, Mister.’’ Sister Ylia seemed to beg now, which was new. She mustn’t want to take her back, either, ’’And none of the family Cornelia accepted this poor child. Poor, poor, little thing.’’ Her acting was terrible.

’’And what should I do with her? A small, skinny child, like such, and one more mouth to feed on top of that.’’ Billford cleared his throat and spat on the side, making Sister Ylia want to gag from such barbaric behavior.

’’Heavens, Mister, she would be plenty useful! She knows how to read. She hasn’t whined not a single time during these many weeks on the road. She is obedient and would make a great helper for a lonely woodcutter like yourself.’’ Sister Ylia’s words were almost daggers of insults by the end, but such small matters wouldn’t mean much for a man like Billford, who instead scoffed a lopsided smile, ’’And if my eyes are not deceiving me— she has your eyes.’’

In that moment, finally, Sophia had a response to her curious gaze. Billford looked down toward her, their eyes indeed the same shade of hazel, green, and light brown mixed together. Taking advantage of the situation, Sophia reached inside the tote bag once more and swiftly offered the leather notebook, holding it with both hands and a whole lot of determination.

Billford squinted his eyes at her for a moment but eventually accepted the notebook. He twirled the leather string from around the button and opened the cover, skimmed through the first few pages, until abruptly stopping on one particular page.

’’No—’’ Billford searched for Sophia’s eyes once more, ’’She has her father’s eyes.’’ He said calmly.

’’Is that so?’’ Sister Ylia tried to sound cheerful, but was left unnoticed by the two. An outsider.

’’You can read?’’ Billford skimmed through the pages calmly, one after another. He did ask a question, although not sounding very interested.

Knowing the question was meant towards her, it was a clear sign to speak, as Sister Ylia gave her shoulder a little push, ’’Y-YES!’’ Sophia answered, a little too eagerly, ’’Yes, Mister. I can read.’’

’’Mhm.’’ Billford nodded, ’’Can you cook?’’

’’I can, Mister. I am excellent at peeling potatoes.’’ Sophia brought her hands behind her back as if being interviewed.

’’Can you work?’’ Billford still wouldn't take his eyes off the pages of the notebook.

’’Yes, Mister. I sweep the floors. I fold the laundry. I know how to sew. I am great at following rules.’’ She held her chin high, ’’—And I can write, draw, and know a lot about the plants and herbs.’’

Billford closed the notebook before handing it back to its rightful owner. He scratched his head and brushed the hair back as if deep in thought.

’’With all due respect, Mr. Dilamor. If not here, then she shall return with me and begin to serve the house of God.’’ Sister Ylia added with a serious tone, different from her previous, overly friendly facade.

’’That needn’t be necessary—’’ Billford answered with no hesitation left in his words, ’’She can stay.’’

He said nothing more, turning away and, with that simple statement, disappeared back inside the shabby wooden shed tilted slightly to the right.

’’Goodness! What lovely news!’’ Sister Ylia seemed rather pleased as she kicked her heels against each other and already rushed towards the horse carriage, ’’I shall not stay here any longer. Impressive on my behalf, I must say! I did not expect to get rid of you by the end of this trip, and I am barely ever wrong. Although I would've had a job for you back at the orphanage, perhaps even as my personal assistant if you learned some proper manners along the way. Well then, good luck, child!’’ She waved her hand only once before already disappearing. Not much of a sentimental departure.

Left alone on the wide front yard in an unfamiliar place, Sophia hugged her father's notebook close to her chest and slowly looked around. Nervous. Until her eyes met with another young girl’s own peeking from behind the stone fence.

Her curly red hair gleamed underneath the blazing sun, like flames. Dark brown eyes, freckles, and lips now turning into a bright smile, missing a tooth or two.