Spring had settled fully over the Edelhardt estate, and the air was thick with the scent of blooming lilacs and fresh earth. The great stone halls, usually echoing with stern footsteps and quiet conversations, now held the soft sounds of whispered plans and stifled giggles. The children, Liora, Mathilde, Leopold, and Elias, were gathered in the old playroom, their faces lit by the flickering flame of a single candle.
"We have to escape," Mathilde declared with the solemnity of a queen. She sat cross-legged on the floor, her small hands clasped in front of her like a priestess of mischief. "To Candy Island."
"Candy Island?" Elias's eyes were wide and shimmering with excitement, as if he could already taste the rivers flowing with berry cream.
"Yes!" Mathilde nodded vigorously. "Where the trees are made of toffee and the rivers run thick with cream and honey. We'll be kings and queens, and no one can catch us."
Leopold grinned, flashing a crooked smile. "And we'll bring sweets for the journey. Lots of sweets. We have to prepare carefully, like real adventurers."
Liora smiled quietly, watching her new siblings with a tenderness she hadn't quite expected to feel. "Cook Alfred makes the best honey tarts," she said softly. "If we sneak some from the kitchen, no one will miss them."
Mathilde clapped her hands, bouncing excitedly. "Yes! We'll hide them under our cloaks."
Elias shuffled closer and whispered urgently, "I want marshmallow clouds! Please! Clouds made of marshmallow."
Liora laughed, the sound soft and clear. "We'll see what we can find."
The plan was simple but daring: sneak into the kitchen, gather as many sweets as they could carry, and slip quietly out the estate gates into the dark, winding paths that led to their imaginary Candy Island.
The moon was a pale crescent as the children slipped from the playroom, tiptoeing down shadowed corridors. Their footsteps were light on the cold stone floors, but every creak and whisper of wind made their hearts leap.
"Stop!" whispered Leopold suddenly, freezing in place.
Liora turned to see him nearly knock over a tall vase perched on a narrow table. The vase wobbled dangerously.
"Oops," he breathed.
"Leopold!" hissed Mathilde, eyes wide. "You're going to wake the ghosts."
Liora reached out, steadying the vase with a gentle hand. "Easy," she said, squeezing his arm. "Ghosts don't like loud noises."
"Then I'm very sorry, ghosts," Leopold muttered under his breath, eyes darting nervously.
They hurried on, holding hands in twos, their shadows dancing along the stone walls. Soon, they reached the kitchen door, its heavy oak wood faintly humming with the warmth from within.
The smell hit them first, sweet honey, fresh bread, and something spicy, like cinnamon and cloves.
Mathilde's eyes sparkled. "Do you think Cook Alfred has any honey tarts left?"
Liora peeked inside. The kitchen was empty except for a large wooden table laden with baskets of fruit, plates of pastries, and a big, golden-brown honey tart cooling on a rack.
"Perfect," she whispered.
The children scattered, quietly gathering their treasures. Mathilde grabbed two slices of honey tart, Elias stuffed a handful of sugared almonds into his pocket, and Leopold collected a small bag of candied cherries.
Liora carefully wrapped a soft cloth around a loaf of spiced bread, the smell reminding her of the old village festivals.
Elias, however, couldn't resist the shiny red candied apple sitting in a bowl near the hearth. He reached out and tried to lift it, his eyes wide with longing.
"Elias, no!" whispered Leopold, gently tugging the apple away.
"But I want one!" Elias whispered back.
"You'll get a tummy ache," Mathilde said, frowning.
Elias sighed but let the apple go, accepting a small handful of sugared almonds instead.
Suddenly, the heavy steps of the head butler echoed down the hall.
"Quick! Hide!" Liora hissed, pulling Mathilde behind a tall pantry cupboard. Leopold and Elias ducked behind the stove.
The butler rounded the corner, his face stern and sharp in the dim light.
"What are you children doing here at this hour?" he asked, voice low but firm.
The children froze, caught like mice in a trap.
Mathilde swallowed hard, then blurted, "We're… rehearsing a play! Yes! A play about candy trees!"
The butler raised an eyebrow, suspicion flickering in his eyes.
Liora stepped forward, voice steady though her heart pounded. "We just wanted to make sure the play has enough sweets."
For a long moment, the butler said nothing. Then, with a slow nod, he turned and disappeared down the corridor.
The children exhaled, their laughter barely contained.
With their loot safely hidden, they crept toward the main gate. Outside, the cool night air was sweet with spring blossoms and the distant song of nightingales.
"Almost there," Liora whispered, her cloak heavy with stolen treats.
Just as they reached the edge of the courtyard, a soft but firm voice stopped them.
"Well, well, what do we have here?"
Lady Amalia stepped from the shadows, her pale violet cloak catching the moonlight. Her eyes twinkled with amusement and something softer, pride, perhaps.
The children froze, caught like children in a storybook.
Amalia laughed, a sound like wind chimes in a breeze. "The bravest failed expedition of the year. Come along now, before the guards notice you're missing."
The children's shoulders relaxed, relief flooding their faces.
That night, after the children were tucked in and the estate had fallen silent, Liora sat by the window in her small chamber. The candle flickered beside her as she opened her worn journal.
She dipped the quill into ink and wrote carefully:
Today, we sailed to Candy Island on wings of sugar and dreams. Though we never reached the shore, the adventure was ours, and sometimes, that is enough.
Liora looked up at the stars beyond the glass, a soft smile curving her lips.
Linna, I think I'm finally beginning to find my way.
The candle's soft glow flickered against the walls as Liora carefully closed her journal and set the quill down. She stretched, feeling the gentle ache of a day spent chasing dreams and mischief.
Just as she was about to blow out the candle, a small weight pressed against her side.
"Liora," whispered Mathilde, her voice soft as the petals of a spring flower. "Can I… sleep here tonight? The night feels big and a little scary."
Liora smiled, reaching out to tuck a stray curl behind Mathilde's ear. "Of course. There's always room."
As Liora reached for the candle, the door creaked open and Leopold slipped inside, cheeks flushed with a mix of mischief and something else, perhaps nerves.
"Mother said I have to sleep with you," he announced matter-of-factly, plopping down on the edge of the bed.
Mathilde's eyes widened in protest. "But there's not enough space!"
Liora laughed softly, shaking her head. "There's always enough space when it's with family."
Before they could settle, a sudden shuffle and a small, desperate whimper came from behind them.
"Eeeek!" all three children yelped, scrambling apart as Elias appeared at the door, eyes wide and teary.
Leopold held up a hand, scolding in a whisper, "Go back to your room, Elias! It's late."
But Elias shook his head, sniffled, and stepped forward. Liora's heart melted.
"It's alright," she murmured, scooping him up gently into her arms. "Come here, little one."
Elias clung to her, still sniffling, and soon the bed was full: Liora at the center, Mathilde curled against her side, Leopold tucked in beside them, and Elias clutching her hand.
Liora closed the candle with a soft smile, the warmth of the room and her little family surrounding her like a gentle embrace.
"Goodnight," she whispered, her voice steady and kind. "We're all here now. Safe."
The quiet breaths of the children soon mingled with the night, a soft symphony of peace and belonging.