Chapter 5 The Name That Wasn't Hers

Chapter Five: The Name That Wasn't Hers

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‎The morning after the festival, the sky was clear.

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‎Too clear.

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‎Not a single cloud hung over the cliffs. The wind was still. Even the gulls that usually screeched over the sea were silent. The academy grounds shimmered with soft spring light, the air sweet with wildflowers blooming along the chapel wall.

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‎Everything looked perfect.

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‎Seraphina hated it.

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‎She stood at the edge of the courtyard, hands clasped behind her back, watching Nora bicker with two other girls over a misplaced box of festival lanterns. It was the sort of everyday drama that usually brought her comfort.

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‎But today, it felt distant. Like a scene being played out behind a glass wall.

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‎"Fina! Earth to Fina!" Nora called, waving a hand in her face.

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‎Seraphina blinked. "Sorry. Just thinking."

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‎"That's dangerous," Nora teased, nudging her shoulder. "Come on, we're late for botanical theory."

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‎---

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‎Inside the classroom, sunlight poured through tall windows, glinting off jars of dried petals, seeds, and bottled roots. The scent of lavender and old paper filled the air.

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‎Professor Ashwyn, the head of the botanical studies department, was already droning on about rare cliffside herbs that only bloomed under moonlight.

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‎Seraphina slid into her usual seat by the back window, opened her notebook, and tried to focus.

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‎But the words blurred.

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‎Something was itching under her skin again not pain, just... pressure. Like her body remembered something her mind refused to.

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‎Her fingers twitched. She turned to a blank page in her notebook and began to draw.

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‎A tree. With pale leaves and hanging roots. At its base, a river of blood.

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‎When she realized what she was doing, she shut the notebook so fast it nearly tore.

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‎After class, she lingered behind.

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‎Professor Ashwyn was shelving books near the window, humming to himself. Seraphina approached slowly.

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‎"Excuse me, Professor," she said. "You mentioned a plant earlier the crimson mourner? Does it really only grow on ancient graves?"

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‎He turned, smiling absently. "Oh yes. Nasty little thing. Grows best in cursed soil. Why, are you thinking of planting one?"

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‎She shook her head. "Just curious."

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‎He nodded. "Good girl, Liora. Always asking questions."

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‎Seraphina froze.

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‎"What... did you call me?"

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‎The professor paused, blinking. "Liora. Isn't that?" He trailed off, confusion knitting his brow. "Forgive me. I must be mixing you up with someone else."

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‎Seraphina forced a smile. "It's Seraphina."

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‎"Of course. Yes. Seraphina." He chuckled awkwardly. "Strange. You just reminded me of a name I haven't said in years."

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‎She nodded politely, then turned and walked away as fast as she could without running.

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‎Back in her room, she locked the door.

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‎Her satchel sat on the bed, undisturbed. She pulled the map from inside, unfolding it slowly. The ink had darkened overnight or maybe it had always looked that way. Her eyes just hadn't noticed.

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‎The handwriting was neat. Slanted. Familiar.

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‎Her own.

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‎She didn't remember writing it.

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‎And yet every loop, every stroke of the pen... it was unmistakably hers.

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‎The map bore no roads, only roots. Trees. A path that curved toward a jagged mark labeled "Veilheart."

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‎No towns. No rivers. No landmarks she recognized.

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‎Just forest.

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‎And blood.

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‎She stuffed the map back into her satchel and climbed the tower steps two at a time. She needed fresh air. Space. Something to chase the pressure from her chest.

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‎The bell tower had always been her quiet place open to the sky, wind in her hair, the sound of waves crashing far below.

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‎But today, when she reached the top, she wasn't alone.

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‎A pigeon sat on the ledge.

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‎It turned to look at her with dark, unblinking eyes.

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‎She'd seen it before. Almost every day. Same gray feathers. Same missing patch on its wing.

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‎But she'd never seen it up close.

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‎Around its leg was a thin piece of string. Tied in a small knot. As if someone had attached a message and removed it.

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‎Her breath caught.

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‎"Who are you?" she whispered.

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‎The pigeon tilted its head.

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‎Then flew away.

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‎Later that night, she couldn't sleep again.

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‎Not because of fear.

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‎But because her heart wouldn't stop whispering a name she hadn't chosen.

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‎Liora.

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