-Iloria—Two Years Ago, Winter-
A year and a half before, she had walked this very path, through the same bustling market. Midnight had stilled the capital of Iloria into suffocating silence; now, after a year and a half, it welcomed Medora and her new companion with a torrential rain.
The sporadic clatter of hurried footsteps, people rushing in the opposite direction toward shelter, filled the empty space between Medora and Nevin. They walked so long along the cobblestone streets of the capital, drenched by rain, that Nevin could no longer contain his curiosity
"You said I shouldn't ask questions… but can't you at least tell me how far we have to go?"
Nevin had come to this world by Medora's insistence, wearing only a thin summer outfit, right at the moment he had reached the final chapter of The Book of Painting Laws, with no idea of what awaited him.
Now, shivering from the cold and wet, he clutched his precious book to his chest and followed behind Medora.
"First, we need to get out of the city. I'm sorry, Nevin! I completely forgot—it's late autumn in eastern Arya."
Medora said this, glancing back at the tall, soaked young man behind her.
Walking under the rain in her beloved land could have been pure pleasure for Medora—if she were certain that the afternoon tea table was ready, with herbal cake and chamomile tea waiting. If she were certain that Attar was waiting under the water-lily gazebo, and that his usual dignity would remain as he poured the tea for her.
But that certainty had been lost the moment they returned. And Nevin's questioning gaze was not something the girl had any answers ready for—at least, not yet.
"At least pull your hood over your head, Medora! Your hair is completely soaked. What if you catch cold?"
Now able to see the dense line of trees marking the entrance to the forest, Medora drew her hood over her head and took Nevin's wrist.
"Almost there… we're going home."
Sensing the faint aura of anxiety around Medora, Nevin freed his hand from her fingers to take hers fully in his. He had read somewhere that this was one way to transfer a sense of calm.
"Don't worry, Medora! I'm with you. Let's… go home."
Nevin's voice was calm, and as the soft violet wave of energy flowed gently from his fingers into her veins, he smiled brightly.
Medora did not break the warm connection of their hands, and together they headed toward the forest. The rain had lessened, and despite Nevin's magic, her heart beat faster, consumed by a single thought:
Attar won't forgive me! He'll never forgive the promise I broke, the reason I can never tell him… the fact that I'm supposed to love Nevin… he won't forgive that.
The scent of the forest after the rain—the fresh breath of the leaves, the damp earth waiting for its new crop of mushrooms—revived Nevin's spirits. His smile deepened, and he didn't notice Medora's steps growing slower and heavier.
"What are these called, Medora? They're… breathing… singing songs I can't understand. Can you hear them? Can you feel what's between them beneath our feet?"
Nevin's tone, full of wonder and curiosity, made Medora lift her eyes from the dark outlines of the forest mansion walls and meet the blue mirror of his gaze.
"They're called trees! And yes… I can hear them too. But… what do you mean by feeling what's between them?"
Nevin let go of Medora's hand and, without hesitation, knelt, pressing his hand to the damp soil. He gently introduced his long fingers and pale skin to this new sensation.
"They're alive down there. Whispering the palace news to each other. These trees… they're beautiful!"
Nevin said this, and Medora could understand his amazement. He had no familiarity with this world, and Arya was witnessing the first steps of this young creature's exploration
Medora turned her gaze back to the forest mansion walls visible through the trees. She called to Nevin, but without waiting, her feet moved instinctively toward the mansion. Her lips felt dry, and her soaked cloak weighed down her shoulders. The mansion was just a few steps away.In the blink of an eye, she passed through the wooden yard fence and walked along the path lined with rose bushes.
The narrow familiar path led straight to the mansion's greenhouse—another familiar spot!
The greenhouse doors were open, another unmistakable sign. Attar knew she had returned. For Medora, standing before the greenhouse entrance, the lingering mist after the rain no longer felt tangible. The scent of mint growing in the surrounding garden no longer brought delight. Nothing mattered anymore except the tall figure clad in black, calmly plucking nettle leaves from their stems, his back turned toward her.