CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE — The Truth Carried on Wings
Helena woke with a sharp gasp.
Her body trembled as though the night had not fully released her. The dream clung to her skin voices calling her name, shadows pressing close, a pull in her chest that refused to loosen. Even as dawn crept through the narrow window, her hands would not stop shaking.
She sat up slowly, pressing her palm against her heart.
What was that?
The palace was still asleep when she finally rose. Helena wrapped herself in her cloak and slipped out, drawn by a quiet restlessness she could not explain. The kitchens were the only place she knew would be warm at that hour.
As she pushed the door open, a soft flutter startled her.
A white dove perched calmly on the wooden table near the hearth
Helena froze.
Her breath caught as she recognized the small ribbon tied to its leg. Her heart began to race, not with fear but with knowing.
Only one person sent messages this way.
With trembling fingers, she untied the ribbon and unfolded the tiny parchment.
Come home, my child. There is something you must know.
~ Grandmother.
Helena's knees weakened.
She had spent months sending her wages away, secretly hiring messengers to ensure her grandmother's medicine reached her on time. Every coin she saved was for that woman. And now… this.
Without telling anyone, Helena left the palace before the sun fully rose.
Her grandmother's home smelled the same as always herbs, old wood, and warmth. When the door opened and Helena stepped inside, the old woman's face lit up like dawn itself.
"My child," she breathed, pulling Helena into her arms.
Helena held her tightly, her throat burning. She felt relief first pure relief because her grandmother looked better. Stronger. The lines of pain that once marked her face had softened.
"You're healing," Helena whispered.
The woman smiled. "Because of you."
They sat together for a while, speaking of simple things of the palace kitchens, of the doves, of the road Helena traveled. But beneath every word, something waited.
At last, her grandmother grew quiet.
"There is a reason I called you," she said softly.
Helena's fingers curled into her skirt.
Her grandmother reached for her hands. "You have lived your life believing you were alone in this world."
Helena swallowed. "I was told I was an orphan."
The old woman's eyes filled with something painful. Regret.
"You were never abandoned by death," she said. "But by choice."
The words struck harder than Lina expected.
Her grandmother continued slowly, carefully. "Your parents are alive, Helena."
The room seemed to tilt.
"What…?" Her voice was barely a sound.
"They came to me one night," the woman said. "You were still a baby. They said it was only for a short time. That they would return."
Helena's heart pounded. "Did they?"
Her grandmother shook her head. "They left at dawn.i did not know why. I still don't. No letter. No explanation. Nothing."
A sharp ache bloomed in Helena's chest.
"They didn't die," she whispered. "They just… left."
Tears slid down her cheeks before she could stop them.
"I waited," her grandmother said quietly. "Years passed. I told myself I would explain one day. But the longer I waited, the harder it became."
Helena wiped her face, shaking. "All this time… I thought I had no one."
Her grandmother pulled her close again. "You had me. And you still do."
But Helena's heart felt heavier than ever.
Not knowing hurt.
But knowing they chose to leave hurt more.
When Helena finally rose to return to the palace, her grandmother pressed her forehead to hers.
"Whatever you are becoming," the old woman whispered, "do not be afraid of it."
Helena didn't understand those words yet.
But as she walked back toward Nightfall, the air around her stirred soft, unseen, alive.
And somewhere deep within her, something ancient listened.