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Chapter Four: Things That Didn't Happen
The next morning, the sky was soft and gray.
Rain tapped lightly on the windows of Saint Morwen's Academy, making the glass hum like a distant lullaby. The halls smelled of damp stone and tea leaves. Classes resumed, laughter returned, and the chaos of the festival became just another story to tell.
Seraphina clung to that normalcy like a lifeline.
She didn't mention the whisper in the chapel.
She didn't tell Nora about the candle burning blue.
She didn't show anyone the strange message that had faded from her palm overnight.
None of it happened.
That's what she told herself.
Just a dream. Just the candlelight playing tricks. Just the echo of music warping her thoughts.
Everyone had strange thoughts during festivals, didn't they?
She smiled a little too brightly during breakfast. She kept her head down in metaphysics. She even volunteered to clean the library stairwell - the one with all the dust and cobwebs and no visitors.
She wanted silence.
And yet...
The silence felt wrong now.
---
While sorting old scrolls near the back corner of the library, she found a torn page tucked between volumes. It wasn't dusty. It hadn't aged. The ink was fresh the edges almost warm.
One word.
"Liora."
She stared at it, heart stuttering. Her fingers trembled as she folded the paper and shoved it deep into her satchel. She didn't read it again.
She wouldn't.
That afternoon, Nora caught up with her near the garden wall.
"Fina, you've been acting... off."
Seraphina forced a laugh. "I'm always off."
"No, I mean... quiet. Distracted. You missed tea. And you didn't even flinch when Sister Elwen dropped her teacup this morning you always flinch at loud sounds."
Seraphina blinked. "She dropped a cup?"
"Yes! Right during chapel readings. It shattered. Like, exploded. You didn't even look up."
"Oh. I... I must've been focused."
Nora stared at her. "You haven't been focused on anything since last week."
There was no accusation in her voice. Just worry.
The kind of worry Seraphina didn't know what to do with. The kind that made her chest ache a little.
"I'm fine," she whispered, almost too softly to believe.
She didn't sleep that night.
Not because of dreams. But because she was afraid of not dreaming.
So she sat at her window, staring out at the sea, watching lightning flicker across the distant horizon. The storm never reached the cliffs it just hovered out there like a sleeping creature, too far to hear, but close enough to feel.
She sketched.
Not with intention but with urgency.
As if her fingers knew something her mind refused to admit.
When she looked down, the page was covered in ink.
A masked man beneath a bleeding moon.
Again.
---
The next morning, her satchel felt heavier.
As if someone had slipped something inside it overnight.
She opened it slowly in the garden.
The paper with Liora was still there but now there was another page behind it. Older. Yellowed. Smelling faintly of roses and ash.
It was a map.
Not of the school. Not of the cliffs.
But of a forest. Labeled only as:
The Vale of Veyrath.
She didn't know how she knew it was real.
But she did.
She folded it shut. Tucked it beneath the journal. Stood up.
And walked away.
---
That evening, as the sky turned a bruised gold, Seraphina returned to the chapel.
She told herself it was for the quiet.
For peace.
Not because she wanted answers. Not because she hoped the candle would burn blue again.
But when she stepped inside, the lanterns were dark. The air was still. The ruby-glass window had been replaced - fresh, whole, clean.
Everything was ordinary again.
Almost too ordinary.
She sat in the last pew, her hands folded tightly in her lap.
"Nothing happened," she whispered to the stillness.
The silence didn't disagree.
But far above her, near the rafters, a single spider moved across the beam.
Its shadow formed a strange, swirling symbol as the last light of day caught it.
Seraphina didn't see it.
Not yet.
---