The soft glow of dawn painted the room in hues of lavender and rose, casting long shadows that danced across the polished wooden floor. Elara stirred, her emerald eyes fluttering open, a lingering echo of the dream's sorrow still clinging to her like a damp shroud. She blinked, her gaze settling on her mother who stood by the window, her silhouette etched against the nascent light.
"Mom?" Elara's voice was a whisper, hoarse from the tears she'd shed. Confusion clouded her features, a silent question hanging in the air: When did you get here?
Her mother turned, her face a canvas of worry and love, and rushed to Elara's side. She knelt beside the armchair, her hand trembling as she reached for Elara's. Her touch was warm, grounding, a stark contrast to the icy dread that had gripped Elara's heart moments before.
"Oh, Elara," her mother breathed, her voice thick with unshed tears. She held Elara's hand tightly, as if afraid she might vanish. "Are you alright baby?"
Before Elara could answer, her mother pulled her into a fierce embrace, her sobs echoing in the quiet room. The force of her emotion was a physical weight, a tangible manifestation of her worry.
"Mom," Elara whispered, hugging her back, her own eyes welling up again. "I'm sorry."
Her mother pulled back, her eyes glistening. "Don't apologize, Elara. This isn't your fault. It's mine. I should be able to help you, to take this pain away."
The raw honesty in her mother's voice, the self-blame that laced her words, struck Elara like a physical blow. A painful throb pulsed in her chest, a sudden, sharp awareness of the burden she placed on her mother.
"No," Elara choked out, tears streaming down her face. "It's not your fault. You're doing everything you can."
She pulled away, her gaze locked on her mother's, a silent plea for understanding. Her mother's eyes, usually so strong and composed, were filled with a raw, maternal sorrow that mirrored her own. Elara's gaze drifted to the rich, vibrant purple of her mother's hair, a stark contrast to her pale face, and a reminder of the strength she always displayed.
Her mother pulled her into another embrace, this time gentler, more reassuring. "You're safe now, Elara. I'm here."
After a moment of shared silence, her mother pulled back, her expression shifting, a flicker of determination in her eyes. "Elara," she said, her voice firm, "I want you to go home. To your father's home. To Archduke Erzil's keep. Your home."
Elara recoiled, her eyes widening in alarm. "No, Mom. I can't. Not now. I don't want to endanger anyone again."
"You won't endanger anyone baby," her mother insisted, her voice softening. "Erzil misses you, Elara. He wants to see you, it's been a month since he last saw you. Since the incident."
A flicker of sadness crossed Elara's face. She missed her grandfather, a man of quiet strength and ancient wisdom. But the thought of returning to the , of facing the weight of her lineage and repercussions of what happened the last time she was there, filled her with a sense of dread.
"I'll visit," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "But I can't stay, you know that I can't. Not yet, I still need time."
Her mother sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. She knew Elara's stubborn streak, her fierce independence. But she also knew the pain her daughter carried, the isolation that gnawed at her soul.
"Alright," she said, her voice resigned. "But you'll visit soon, understand?"
Elara nodded, a small, grateful smile gracing her lips.
Her mother's expression shifted again, a playful glint in her eyes. "So," she said, her voice light, "how's school? Still gracing them with your heavenly presence?"
Elara rolled her eyes, a reluctant smile tugging at her lips. "It's fine," she mumbled, looking away.
Her mother raised an eyebrow, her expression one of mock seriousness. "Fine? Elara, I know you. You haven't been attending half your classes. You think you're too smart for everyone, don't you? That they don't deserve to breathe the same air as your genius?"
She struck a dramatic pose, one hand on her hip, the other raised to the sky, her voice dripping with playful sarcasm. "Oh, mortals," she declared, "I, Elara Lunari Von A'Royale, have deemed you unworthy of my celestial attendance!"
Elara burst out laughing, the tension of the past hour momentarily forgotten. "Mom!" she exclaimed, shaking her head. "You're ridiculous."
"Ridiculously accurate." Her mother retorted, her eyes twinkling, the vibrant purple of her hair catching the soft morning light.
The room filled with the sound of their laughter, a fragile echo of normalcy in the wake of Elara's emotional storm. For a moment, the weight of the curse, the mystery of her past, seemed to fade into the background, replaced by the warmth of their shared bond.