Ayla looked at her bleeding palm and sighed. She ripped off a piece of torn rag, which used to be 'clothes'.
The sound of the cloth being ripped resounded in the small house. This seemingly insignificant action made Ayla look around frantically before taking a sigh of relief.
This much should be fine… He won't notice.
She wrapped the semi-clean piece around her palm and left the house without saying another word, leaving behind her dream, and stepped into the world.
She looked up at the cloudy sky, which had not changed ever since the death of the previous king, Solomon IV.
He bowed to all the farmers for raising the taxes due to a brief financial struggle; he didn't believe in nobility being superior to commoners. He treated everyone as an equal. That's why the orphans can walk around the city without being shamed like everywhere else.
"Including me…" Ayla muttered to no one as she thought back to the times when she was running down the bustling city of Lunarious.
As if trying to rekindle the little joy she still withheld in her heart. She ran down the dense forest, clinging to the same joy she felt when she ran down the street during the harvesting festival.
She imagined the trees to be the adults, the bushes as little kids running around her, having fun just like her. The dirt road slowly turned into a concrete pavement for her to run across. Just as her imagination ran wild, she caught sight of something bright.
Something about it made her snap out of her imagination.
So, Ayla stopped momentarily as she noticed a beautiful flower growing behind a dense bush. It was blood crimson, its petals curved in a tied ribbon and complex like the web of a spider. The unusual stamens stretched far beyond the petals, making it look ethereal.
"This is…?" Ayla got through the dense bushes, but the twigs cut through her clothes made of loose linen. The cut fabric revealed pale skin, which stood out from her earthy colored clothing.
Despite the slight breeze blowing against the newly made holes, Ayla didn't take her eyes off the unique flower. Her eyes locked with the flower, as if she was hypnotized by it.
The smell of a sweet fragrance, almost like freshly cut grass in the yard of the orphanage back then.
A faint smell of vanilla used to decorate cakes in the nearby bakeries was carried by the small breeze.
This flower… I didn't expect it to bring back so many fond memories, even though I had forgotten them a long time ago.
Time passed by, although her's stood still.
Why did I forget? Did I… Give up? On myself?
One breath, two breaths… Seven breaths.
She finally snapped out of it and noticed a slight breeze on her what should've been covered skin.
Ayla looked down, and her eyes widened in shock as she saw the holes. Her mind immediately went into overdrive at her clothes.
"Wha- This is bad. I need to go to town immediately. I need to fix this before I return!" Ayla hurried out of the bushes she came from and ran down the road to the town. But, she looked behind her, where her house was, with a tinge of fear before leaving behind footprints on the dirt road.
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As soon as Ayla arrived, she ran past the townsmen strolling down the streets with their loved ones.
She didn't bother looking at the magnificent wall that was built, despite it being a relatively small town.
Ayla ran down the bustling market, where a myriad of different smells engulfed the small place.
The scent of soap that was newly brought from the east, the smell of freshly baked, and most importantly… The smell of poverty.
Ayla sped up her pace as she passed by the slums next to the market.
She arrived at the center of the town, where a statue of the great hero who saved the world from the gods long hundreds of years ago.
I still find it hard to believe how someone could have this much power. Even if they did… Would he still be proud of it?
Ayla thought back to the countless times she was beaten and bruised as an orphan. Although King Solomon IV was great, it doesn't mean that he is omnipotent.
There will always be people who do not follow his ideals. After all, we are still human. We have thoughts, emotions, and personal beliefs.
Just like how people used to worship the gods, they now worship the constellations.
Those who still follow the gods are now called heretics, similar to those who previously did not follow a god of their own.
Ayla gave one last glance at the bronze statue of the hero whose smile was comparable to the sun.
In it, Ayla saw peddlers calling out to a couple about their newest wares that supposedly improve their 'intimacy'.
Drunkard's slurred speech and the smell of alcohol lingered in the air as Ayla frowned slightly at someone. She hurried up to make sure she was not seen by that specific person.
About a few minutes later, she arrived at an alleyway. Instead of shrinking against the dark and damp alleyway, she confidently walked into it, and at the end of it was light.
Ayla opened the door and cleared her throat.
"Ahem… EXCUSE ME, ARE YOU STILL SLEEPING PAST NOON?! THIS IS NOT GOOD FOR YOUR HEALTH!!" The small bulb hanging from the ceiling shook from the vibration of her shout.
The small bulb flickered as the mana signal weakened from the movement.
"Jeez, let a person sleep, will ya?" An elderly woman whose hair looked as if they have not been brushed for thousands of years walked out the door behind the front counter and yawned.
"So? What can I do for you, lass?" The elderly woman smiled like a fox ready to pounce on their prey.
"Finally changed your mind on my proposal?" She grinned with her yellow teeth fully on display.
"Which one, Ms. Pricilia?" Ayla chuckled slightly at the shrewd woman in front of her.
"Oh, you know." Pricilia shrugged nonchalantly as her mischievous grin was still on full display.
"The one where you marry my stupid grandson." She cackled like a cockatrice that was claiming its territory.
Ayla sighed fondly at her usual antics.
"Unfortunately, as I said before, Ms. Pricilia. I'm still a bit young to think about marriage. But I am here for… This." Ayla pointed at her torn clothes and took out a bag before setting it on the table with a thud.
"I hope this is enough."
Pricilia arched her eyebrow at the sight of the bag of what she assumed to be coins and her torn clothes.
"I will do you one better, marry-" Ayla quickly interjected before Pricilia could finish her words.
"No thanks, I took out the pouch for this." Ayla looked at Pricilia with a gaze that could freeze the ocean.
"Fine, fine, kids these days, I swear." Pricilia clicked her tongue and took a few coins from the bag before throwing them back at Ayla.
"What's with that look?" Pricilia glared at Ayla's slightly widened eyes.
"You think I'm going to take the whole pouch?" She scratched her head, and dandruff fell from her hair before sighing.
"First, I might like money, but not enough to rob a brat. Second, how could I scam my future daughter-"
"And like that, I'm leaving." Ayla quickly headed to the storage room and slammed the door shut, which shook the pitiful lightbulb that was already barely hanging on.
Ayla changed out of her ripped clothes and grabbed a similar one to avoid suspicion from the storage room before handing it to Pricilia.
"Thanks, I will be back by tomorrow… Like always, don't tell my step-father I was here." Ayla said the last part with hatred as if he were her mortal enemy.
Pricilia looked at Ayla with a rare look of seriousness.
"Yeah, that bastard won't get a word from me, so don't worry about it." She scoffed and lit up a pipe before puffing out smoke, engulfing Ayla's retreating figure.
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As the cloudy sky turned into the darkness, Ayla hurried home, shivering from the cold… or perhaps something else.
On the way back home, something felt off. The footprint she should've left this morning disappeared. Most importantly… The flower… Was no longer to be seen.
… I'm not lost, am I?
Ayla quickly shook her head and continued down the road, completely unaware of the blazing eyes that seemed like molten gold looking at her retreating figure.
The eyes followed Ayla's every movement, from the way she walks to the way her toes curl when walking.
The pair of eyes burned every detail inside their molten gold eyes. Every time Ayla breathes, exhales, and the way her heels hit the floor as she walks.
The deeper Ayla gets into the center of the forest, the darker and ominous it gets. However, it also means the closer she is to home, which makes her feel conflicted.
Ayla gritted her teeth and sped up to shake off the goosebumps on her body. The refreshing smell of the morning dew vanished and was replaced with the damp scent of decaying leaves.
The stalker, who was hiding in the forest, quickly took notice of that and followed after her, but not before noticing something with their golden eyes.
The pair of eyes glanced down at a strand of raven hair that Ayla had left behind and picked it up.
The smell of vanilla and the sweet fragrance akin to freshly cut grass returned. The birds residing in this dark forest suddenly cawed from their slumber. The mothers went out to hunt in the night to feed their offspring… As if the morning has come.
"I've found you." They said as they placed the familiar blood-red flower against their nose before it was suddenly set ablaze, turning into a brilliant white glow, revealing a brief view of a strand of golden hair fluttering in the wind, and the ashes of the once mystical flower scattering in the wind, creating a trail behind Ayla.