Chapter 7 â Ashes and Beginnings
The sun was low in the sky when Seraphina pressed her hand against the simple wooden grave marker.
There were no flowersânone had bloomed this season. Just loose earth, a faded scarf folded beneath a stone, and the soft rustle of wind through brittle grass. The grave sat beneath the crooked old willow near the edge of the village, where her sister once liked to sit and hum lullabies that never belonged to anyone.
Seraphina stood still, arms wrapped around herself.
âI hope,â she whispered, âthat in your next life... youâll be my big sister again.â
Her voice trembled, not from grief, but from the fragile quiet of letting go. âAnd that time... weâll live happily. I promise.â
There was no one else thereâonly the village priest standing a respectful distance away, his head bowed, hands folded around a rosary. He had helped dig the grave earlier that morning with shaky hands and silent prayers.
Two mourners. No hymns. No grand rites.
Just a girl with a heart full of memories, and a priest too old for fresh losses.
When they said their final goodbyes, Seraphina did not cry.
Not this time.
---
The days after the burial passed like ripples in a still pondâsoft and slow. Grief was a dull ache now, not the sharp thing that had broken her in the past. She spent her time cleaning the cottage, preparing simple meals she hardly touched, and sitting outside as if waiting for somethingâor someoneâthat would never arrive again.
On the fourth day, a gentle knock echoed on her door.
She opened it to find Father Arlo, holding his hat in both hands, a hesitant smile on his weathered face. âMorning, child.â
Seraphina stepped aside without a word. He entered the small home that had once smelled of stew and flowers, now faded into something empty and clean.
They sat across from each other, the warmth of shared silence between them.
âYou heading back to the city soon?â he asked softly.
Seraphina nodded. âTomorrow morning.â
He gave a small hum, watching her closely. âWill you be alright?â
âI think so,â she replied, eyes distant. âI have... someone waiting for me. A noblewoman. She's offered me work. She seemed kind.â
Father Arlo raised a brow. âA kind noble? Thatâs rare.â
âSheâs different,â Seraphina said, not quite smiling. âIâll be fine this time.â
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A long pause settled between them.
Then, without warning, Seraphina reached into her satchel and pulled out a small gold coin. She placed it in his hand before he could react.
He blinked down at it. âWhat is this?â
âAll I have to give,â she said softly. âI know itâs not enough. Not compared to everything youâve done for us. But... please accept it.â
âSeraphinaââ
âI mean it.â Her tone was firm. âYou took care of my sister when I couldnât. You gave us more than food and warmthâyou gave us dignity. I canât forget that.â
He stared at her for a long moment. Then, slowly, he closed his fingers around the coin.
âYou always were stubborn,â he murmured, voice thick with quiet affection.
âI wonder where I got it from,â she muttered, just barely holding back a smile.
---
The next morning, as the village stirred from sleep, Seraphina stood at the path leading out. Her satchel was lighter now. Her steps steadier.
Father Arlo stood beside her, holding his staff, watching the forest road with a furrowed brow.
âYou sure you donât want to stay one more night?â he asked.
She shook her head. âThereâs nothing left for me here. Only ghosts.â
He placed a hand on her shoulder. âMay the Goddess walk beside you.â
Then, as she turned to leave, his voice rose behind herâgentle, almost like prayer.
âPlease⦠look after the young survivors of this cruel world.â
Seraphina didnât look back.
She couldnât.
The road to Valeburne waitedâand this time, she wasnât running away from pain.
She was walking toward purpose.
___
The city of Valeburne still felt overwhelming.
Even after her time awayâafter all the tears, all the goodbyesâthe noise of people and carriages and shouting merchants pressed against her ears like waves. She gripped the strap of her satchel tighter as she stepped past the gates, each footfall heavier than the last.
But this time, she had a name.
And a destination.
After asking for directions (twice, and getting lost once), Seraphina finally stood before the Valessia Mansionâa beautiful estate nestled behind sculpted hedges and wrought-iron fencing. The walls were pale stone, the windows tall and glassy, the roof tiled in soft slate blue. It looked nothing like the cracked wood and mossy bricks of her old village.
The guards at the gate narrowed their eyes as she approached.
âYouâre not a local,â one of them said flatly. âState your business.â
âIâ¦â She swallowed, straightened her back, and lifted her chin. âI was invited. By the Young Miss of this house. She told me⦠I could work here.â
The guards exchanged glances. For a moment, Seraphina feared they'd laugh or call her a liar.
But then, one of them nodded slowly. âAh. The girl young miss meet at market."
He opened a leather-bound ledger beside him, flipped through a few pages, then gave a small grunt. âLady Lysandra did mention someone like you might arrive. Youâre cleared to enter.â
The gates creaked open.
Seraphina stepped through.
---
That was the first step on her new journey.
The mansionâs hallways were wide, its floors gleamed, and the scent of lavender hung in the air. Everything was so polished, so controlled. Seraphina almost felt afraid to breathe.
But she learned.
Slowly, humbly, she adjusted to the rhythm of noble lifeâcleaning, folding linens, serving wine, memorizing names and titles and the correct angle to bow. She wasnât fast. She wasnât graceful. But she worked harder than anyone else.
And her efforts didnât go unnoticed.
Weeks passed. Then months. And by the end of her first year, Seraphina was summoned to a private parlorâand there, waiting with a gentle smile, was the same woman who had once handed her a pouch of gold in the streets.
Lysandra Valessia.
---
Seraphina blinked in awe. âIt was youâ¦â
Lysandra tilted her head, a soft laugh escaping her lips. âYou didnât realize?â
âI⦠I didnât expect someone like Lady Lysandra to remember someone like me.â
âWell,â Lysandra said, leaning slightly forward, âI tend to remember the people I give my money to. And you looked like someone who wouldnât waste it.â
That was the beginning of something precious.
Lysandra didnât treat Seraphina like a servant. She spoke to her like a sister, a friendâsomeone she could laugh with over tea, or trust with her quiet thoughts late at night. Under her care, Seraphinaâs job changed. She was no longer just a maid in the corner of the hall.image [https://i.ibb.co/XqQcT82/Whats-App-Image-2025-07-16-at-7-54-28-AM.jpg]
She became her personal attendant.
Her days were full but peacefulâhelping Lysandra dress for events, handling correspondence, brewing her favorite jasmine tea. There were garden walks, stories shared before bed, and quiet afternoons with no duties at all. For the first time in years, Seraphina didnât feel like she was surviving.
She felt like she was living.
And then⦠the letter came.
---
It was three years after Seraphina had entered the mansion.
Lysandra had attended a grand diplomatic event in the Imperial Capitalânothing unusual. She had returned home with her usual grace, but something in her eyes had changed.
Weeks later, the announcement came.
The Emperor himself had taken an interest in Lysandra Valessia.
A minor noblewoman couldnât refuse such a proposal. Not when the Emperor had seen herâadmired herâwanted her for his court.
Three months later, the wedding was arranged.
Lysandra would become a Royal Concubine.
---
Seraphina helped her pack.
When the carriages arrived to take them both to the Imperial Capital, Seraphina stood beside her lady without flinching. She wasnât a child anymore. And if Lysandra had to walk into the heart of the empire⦠then she would follow.
She always would.
Even if it felt like they were walking into something darker than either of them could see.
Even if the world was about to change.
Again.