Melody of the Sun

Chapter 2

Later that afternoon, the relentless cycle of overthinking continued despite her best efforts. Her daily routine unfolded with its usual precision: inspecting the soldiers, tidying up, penning letters, and watching over them as they slept. Finding solace in the soldiers' peaceful sleep, Dahlia took it as a silent reassurance that their duties remained unchanged.

Eventually, she settled down to handle the countess's incoming telegrams and letters.

And yet, it wasn't enough. The tranquillity at the estate taunted her, intensifying the annoying buzz in her mind. There had to be something, something to make it disappear.

When Dahlia remembered that moment, she believed that her response had to do with opening up to Lynn. Perhaps the iron door to her heart, left forgotten and ajar, had remained that way, trusting the atmosphere to be harmless. Upon meeting those piercing ruby eyes, uncertainty crept in, shattering the peace she had painstakingly established. At that moment, it seemed to be the sole plausible explanation.

Whoever he was, it was passing. Her perturbance would dissolve in the sea of confidence and strength eventually. Everything was going to be alright, she repeated. It had been for a decade, and a mere encounter wasn't going to shake the foundation built by bleeding, dirt-filled nails. She had worked, cried in agony, and surpassed that time of her life.

And if, by any chance, this storm of change approached, she'd make sure to end it, even if it meant death.

At last, in search of solace, her only resolution was sleep. Wrapped in the cocoon of safety and routine at the Heatherstones, sleep finally emerged, and her restless nights had ended. Dreams were rare, but when they came, they were deep and heartbreaking, pulling her into depths so inescapable that only a loud noise could break through. She longed for the intense and vivid dreams that felt like near-death experiences, where fragmented images intertwined like a mythical creature. After awakening in a cold sweat, there was a noticeable sense of relief.

But today was different—unexpected and foreign. Even the gods seemed to hear her plea for the first time and celebrated.

It wasn't darkness that terrified her, nor the monstrous voices that insulted or guided her with an urgency she couldn't answer to. Her tongue swirled back, blocking any word or breath. Kaleidoscopic lights engraved her vision and turned blotchy. Silence enveloped her and left the only dread of looming turmoil.

The same blotchy spots coalesced into two crimson eyes, inching closer. Thunderous heartbeats echoed in her ears as she stood frozen in place, unable to respond.

"Look at me, my Dahlia." said the most unfamiliar of voices— clear, sharp yet welcoming.

"Dahlia!"

With a jolt, her eyes snapped open. Thrown into oblivion, her consciousness sank deep with a hard thud, its heaviness threatening to sink further in the bed as trembling persisted. Everything ached and tingled, and her clothed chest tightened, refraining from loud panting.

Lynn's frantic yell echoed through the hallways, and with a swing, Dahlia's bleak gaze met Lynn's blurry silhouette storming.

Without a second of pause, Lynn blurted, "Do you have any idea what time it is?"

"Lynn— "

"Having me run around and do your job, then the staff is looking for me, telegrams are overflowing, they're asking me downstairs—things only Papa knows, and I'm—if you've heard me, looking for you and..." she paused to breathe. "Can you even follow what I'm saying? Stand up, will you?!"

The familiar tapping resurfaced, and Dahlia waved a trembling hand, her voice failing to form words.

The room, a modest study, was untouched for years. Books and files from centuries past lined one wall, their content long obsolete, staring back with silent reproach.