𝗙𝗔𝗧𝗔𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗜𝗘𝗦 𝗕𝗘𝗔𝗨𝗧𝗬 , 𝗔𝗢𝗧

𝟎𝟏:𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋

══════════════════════════════════════════

ᴀᴄʀ ᴏɴᴇ ꜰᴀʟʟ ᴏꜰ ꜱʜɪɢᴀɴꜱʜɪɴᴀ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴏɴᴇ

ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ, ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀ 2,000 ʏᴇᴀʀꜱ

══════════════════════════════════════════

MORGAN BOLTED UPRIGHT IN HER BED,

her breath coming in short, ragged gasps, her heart pounding wildly in her chest. The sound echoed in her ears, sweat merged with her pallid skin, causing her nightgown to cling to her form. Her strawberry-blonde hair was a disheveled mess, the sweat effectively plastering her bangs to her forehead.

Her bedroom was drenched in sunlight, its warm rays casting a golden glow on her. Her skin tingled as if on the verge of turning a fiery shade of red under the scorching heat, Though it felt like an eternity, only a few fleeting seconds passed before her ragged breaths finally steadied, bringing a sense of calm to her racing mind. The remnants of the nightmare slowly faded away, slipping from her grasp as she fully awakened.

Her gaze wandered, feeling the dryness of her mouth, she could only surmise that it was late in the morning. She rose to her feet, her hands smoothing over the fabric of her nightgown. It was only when she lifted her hands to rub her eyes that she realized tears had been streaming down her face.

"Morgan," a voice called out gently, followed by a soft knock at her bedroom door before it swung open. "Ah, you're finally awake, some Militray dropped off some letters from Penelope."

Morgan stifled a sigh, holding it within as her fingers closed around the folded letter emblazoned with 'To Morgan' in bold letters. It had been three years since Penelope had departed from their lives, and initially, Morgan felt a swell of pride and happiness for her sister. She held dreams of joining her, of enlisting in the military to walk in Penelope's footsteps.

However, Penelope's presence had dwindled to nothingness; her visits ceased, and her support vanished. On rare occasions, they might receive a letter every few months – changes that had happened. From monthly letters to every three months. The letters that did arrive were terse, the words on them felt hurried, the subtext clear: they were obligations Penelope no longer wished to fulfill.

Morgan never mustered the courage to open those letters, choosing instead to shield her mother from further heartache by hiding them away where they would never be found. As their mother's health began to decline, struggling even to stand on her worst days, Penelope remained absent, her care and concern seemingly as distant as her physical presence.

She offered no help with the small patch of land they tended like a farm in their backyard, a place that once might have benefitted from her attention but now knew only Morgan's solitary toil and her mother's wistful glances from the window.