After breakfast, we gathered everyone in the church's entrance hall. The morning light filtered through the tall stained glass windows, casting soft colors on the floor. Footsteps echoed, each one marking the official beginning of the journey.
"We're heading to the Elun'dar Forest," I announced, trying to keep my voice steady. "It's the only known region where Moon Herb grows. I chose Grenthel for that very reason."
Kale crossed her arms. "And what's so special about this plant? Aside from the fancy name."
"It's rare," I replied. "Extremely sensitive. It only blooms under the full moon, in places where the magical veil of the world is thinnest. Elun'dar Forest is one of those places — ancient, pure, almost sacred."
Thalya raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Herbs that bloom under moonlight are common among elves, but this one… I've heard of it. They say it's not just any plant."
I nodded slowly. "They say… it was born from the sorrow of the Moon Goddess."
Everyone fell silent. Even Silas seemed to be paying attention.
"Legend has it that, millennia ago, the goddess fell in love with a wandering spirit — a formless being, made of dreams and wind. She met him every night. They danced among the stars, spoke without words… But the spirit was fleeting. Like mist. One day, he vanished… and never came back."
My hands clasped together, nervously.
"Since then, the goddess weeps. Every night. They say her tears fall on sacred ground… and where they touch the earth, the Moon Herb is born."
A respectful silence followed the tale. Even Kale said nothing, only looked away.
Dorn was the first to break the silence. "And what's it for? Healing? Poison?"
Before I could answer, the world spun and darkened. I heard Mirna calling my name as my mind slipped into the darkness.
---
In the dim light, a faint glow struggled to illuminate the darkness. The shadows slowly devoured the light, dimming its shine until it faded completely.
That light was Aaron. His white armor was full of cracks, from which his red blood dripped. His eyes were closed, the same serene expression as always, as if he were merely asleep. Even as he fell, he looked at peace, as if he had already accepted his end.
Little by little, the light lost ground. In the end, the shadows prevailed, and the light went out.
---
When I opened my eyes, I was back in my room. I didn't know when it happened, only that I had suddenly fainted and dreamed of Aaron.
I could barely remember the dream clearly. Right after, a sharp headache almost made me faint again — it felt like someone was trying to pry my head open with a hammer.
"Lady Elisa, you're finally awake?" Mirna's worried voice tickled my ears.
"What happened?" I murmured, my voice weak and barely audible.
Mirna approached with steady steps, her expression serious, but there was worry in her eyes — imperceptible to anyone who didn't know her as well as I did. It was only when she changed the damp cloth on my forehead that I realized it had been there.
"You fainted during breakfast," she said gently as she adjusted the cloth on my forehead, her touch tender and careful. "I was worried. I thought your illness had worsened, but apparently, it was just a fever."
"Mirna... I dreamed... of Aaron."
Mirna blinked slowly, and her hands paused for a brief moment. Without waiting for her reply, I continued, my voice trembling:
"He was there. Bleeding, surrounded by darkness." My heart tightened with my own words. "His light... was fading."
The silence that followed was heavy. Mirna didn't respond right away — she just lowered her eyes, as if her world had also collapsed and no words would come. Her fingers stopped for a moment on the towel on my forehead, and I noticed she was trembling slightly.
Neither of us said anything. I could hear the distant sound of birds singing outside and clerics walking down the halls. Mirna's steady gaze seemed to waver. After a few minutes that felt like an eternity, she broke the silence.
"My lady, please don't say things like that again, alright?"
"But—"
"No buts!" Mirna interrupted sharply, her voice taking on a dark tone. "Aaron is alive. He's out there, waiting... waiting for us. He has to be. He has to be!"
"We'll bring him back — and we'll smile together again. No matter what."
She kept repeating it, trying to convince herself with those words. I had never seen Mirna so desperate. She had always been a kind and gentle maternal figure, composed no matter the situation — someone I could lean on. But now, her dark gaze and frantic murmurs only filled me with fear.
Is this Mirna?
I couldn't associate her with the perfect maternal figure I had always known.
When her eyes met mine again, a shiver ran down my spine.
Coming out of her daze, Mirna's expression softened upon seeing the tears welling up in my eyes.
She wiped them gently, just like she did when I was little, but the warmth in her fingers felt forced now — as if she was trying to remember how to be kind.
"I'm sorry..." she whispered finally, pulling back slightly. "I didn't mean to frighten you, my lady."
"Mirna... what was that?" I managed to ask, struggling.
Mirna's gaze softened further, though it still carried a deep sadness. She hesitated before answering, but after a few moments of internal struggle, she found the courage to speak:
"My lady... Ever since Aaron was declared missing, I've had these episodes of anxiety," she finally confessed in a wavering voice.
"It's a burden I carry alone..." Mirna went on, her voice shifting between wounded pride and restrained despair. "I had to be strong. For you. For him. But..." she lowered her eyes, as if her soul were shattering. "Even a rock breaks when burdened by too many storms."
I had never seen her like this. So... human.
"You were always there for me," I murmured, still weak, but with a firmer voice. "Even when all I had was Aaron. You protected me, raised me. And even so... you were suffering alone?"
Mirna gave a melancholic smile — a smile that had no place on her face, the face of the strongest woman I knew.
"If I had fallen apart... who would have taken care of you?" she whispered. "Who would have remembered him without crying?"
I sat up slowly, still burning with fever, but something inside me burned more fiercely: the need to give back.
"Mirna..." I opened my arms, trying to smile brightly. "You can always open up to me. I won't judge you."
Mirna's eyes widened slightly, as if unsure what to do with such an offer. For a moment, she just stood still, lips parted as if about to say something — but no words came.
She looked away, pride still holding her by the throat. Mirna, who had borne everything in silence, was fighting her greatest battle yet: allowing herself to be vulnerable in front of me.
"I... can't, my lady..." she murmured, barely audible. "It's not my place."
"But you don't need roles right now," I replied, my tone firmer. "You need someone. And I'm here."
Mirna trembled, breathing unevenly. Then, finally, she took a hesitant step forward — as if afraid I would vanish if she allowed herself to break. And with a gesture almost childlike, she knelt beside the bed, wrapping her arms tightly around my frail body, pressing her head to my chest.
I hugged her tightly, feeling her warmth, the familiar scent of herbs and dried flowers in her clothes, sinking my fingers into her gray hair, still as soft as I remembered from childhood. Her ragged breaths hit my chest, and her tears soaked through my thin nightgown.
"He meant everything to me, my lady…" she whispered, voice thick with emotion. "More than I could ever say. More than I should have felt."
The words hung in the air like a confession that couldn't be taken back. I held her tighter, feeling the weight of her sorrow, the truth in every syllable. It was strange... I should've felt surprised. Maybe even betrayed, for not knowing. But instead, seeing the woman who'd always been my pillar now so vulnerable, I felt closer to her than ever.
"You loved him..." I whispered, not as a question, but as acceptance.
Mirna didn't respond immediately. Her fingers clutched at the fabric of my nightgown, and for a moment, she seemed like a lost child in a world too cruel to understand.
"Love feels like such a small word... compared to what he stirred in me." She pulled back slightly, still kneeling, her face wet with tears but her gaze steady. "But it was a silent love, my lady. One that grew hidden, because I never let myself want to be more than his protector."
I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to absorb the weight of her revelation. When I opened them, I looked at Mirna with tenderness, though the pain still lingered in my chest.
"Mirna... Now I understand how much Aaron's disappearance affected you." I paused, choosing my words carefully. "Especially when everyone believed he was dead."
Mirna lowered her head, as if my words had knocked the breath from her lungs. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to hold back more tears, but it was no use. Her shoulders shook — her walls had finally crumbled.
"Not being able to cry for him... not being able to scream out his absence… was the worst punishment," she whispered. "I had to mourn in silence. Pretend my pain was only for watching you suffer. But every night… I called out to him in the dark."
The room fell into silence again, broken only by the muffled sound of our heavy breaths. I wanted to say something — anything — but no words could mend a heart like Mirna's.
"My lady... Am I disgusting?" Mirna asked with difficulty. "Is it wrong to love someone who's like a son to me?"
My hands, still in her hair, paused. I felt the weight of that question settle in my chest like she had just handed me the most fragile part of her soul.
But instead of pulling away, I let my fingers sink deeper into her silver strands, stroking them gently.
"No," I whispered, my voice steady despite the lump in my throat. "You're not disgusting, Mirna. You're human."
She didn't reply right away. She just sobbed against my chest, as if that word — human — was the first anyone had granted her in years.
"But... even so... even if I told you that..." She lifted her face slowly, her eyes red and trembling. "That I'm pregnant with his child... would you still not hate me?"
My body trembled, and for a brief moment, my heart stopped.
Pregnant?
With Aaron?
Mirna looked away, as if expecting to be pushed, rejected, punished. As if she wished she could vanish.
But I just looked at her. Really looked. And I saw more than the shocking confession. I saw the desperation from hiding it for so long. I saw fear, pain, and above all — love. A deep, silent love that never meant any harm.
"You're... pregnant?" I asked softly, not with judgment, but with sincere surprise.
She nodded slowly, her eyes still avoiding mine. "I hid it with magic... because I knew it wasn't my right. Because he never... chose me. And still... it happened. Just once. One night. And now..."
I took a deep breath, feeling the world spin — but not from anger. Not even from jealousy. It was... a strange kind of acceptance. Almost sweet. The idea of having a little brother or nephew actually made me happy.
"Mirna..." I murmured, reaching out to touch her face. She hesitated, but didn't pull away. "You were always by his side. You loved him in silence while the whole world worshipped him. And even so... you never asked for anything."
She bit her lower lip hard, as if trying not to cry again.
"He loved you back, even if it was only for one night," I continued. "And even if he never said it out loud... I know he trusted you more than anyone."
Her tears returned. For the first time, not from guilt, but from relief.
"It's not disgusting, Mirna. It's sad. It's beautiful. It's real. And you... you don't have to carry it alone anymore."
She held my hand against her cheek, crying quietly, her shoulders shaking. We stayed like that for a long time, wrapped in sorrow, in revelation, in acceptance.
Then she whispered:
"You... still trust me, my lady?"
"More than ever."
Still holding her hand to my cheek, I felt the warmth of her tears gradually cool, as if the storm had passed — though the clouds still lingered in the sky.
For a moment, we were silent. And despite all I'd just heard, my heart… beat with an unexpected lightness.
"You're really... pregnant with Aaron's child," I repeated softly, as if trying to savor the idea.
She nodded silently.
My lips curved into a shy smile, almost childlike. It was strange... but in the midst of grief, longing, and the emptiness Aaron left behind, something in me warmed. A spark of hope. A little brother? A nephew?
"Then... that means I might become an aunt," I whispered, letting out a faint giggle. "Or a big sister? I've never been either."
Still holding hands, silence returned to the room. But now it was a different silence — no longer heavy, but fragile, like glass about to crack at the slightest touch.
Mirna lowered her eyes, took a deep breath... and for a moment, hesitated. Her grip on my hand loosened slightly.
"My lady..." she began, her voice barely a whisper. "There's something else I need to say... something that might take that smile from your face..."
My brow furrowed slightly. "What is it?"
She bit her lips. Looked away, wrestling with something inside. Pride? Fear?
"I... I'm not planning to keep it," she finally murmured, so quietly I almost didn't hear her. "The baby."