The legacy of blooming estate book two

Chapter two shadows of the past

The streets of Glasten were eerily quiet as Sophia and Beatrice navigated the winding alleys, their footsteps muffled by the thick fog that enveloped the town. Beatrice led the way, her expression a mix of focus and worry, while Sophia struggled to keep up, her mind racing with questions and fears.

"Where are we going?" she finally asked, glancing around at the familiar buildings cloaked in mist. Each shadow seemed to whisper secrets, each corner a reminder of the life she had tried to leave behind.

"To a safe house," Beatrice replied tersely, her voice low. "It's a place where we can talk freely without fear of being overheard. We'll meet my contact there."

Sophia nodded, her stomach twisting with unease. A safe house. The very idea made her skin crawl, bringing back memories of the times she had sought refuge from the dangers of the Society. Yet, now that same society was rising again, and she felt the gravity of that reality pressing down on her.

They turned a corner, entering a narrow passageway that led to a small courtyard. At the far end, a weathered door stood ajar, its paint peeling and faded. Beatrice pushed the door open and motioned for Sophia to follow.

Inside, the air was thick with the scent of old books and lingering spices. The dimly lit room was filled with mismatched furniture, a large table at the center strewn with papers, maps, and what looked like remnants of a hastily prepared meal. A faint glow from a lantern illuminated the space, casting flickering shadows on the walls.

As they stepped inside, a figure rose from behind the table, his tall frame silhouetted against the light. "Beatrice," he said, his voice low and gravelly. "You made it."

"Just barely," Beatrice replied, her tone grave. "This is Sophia Marlowe. She's agreed to help us."

Sophia forced herself to meet the man's gaze. His dark hair was tousled, and his sharp features suggested he had seen more than his fair share of trouble. There was a familiarity about him that made her uneasy. "And you are?" she asked, crossing her arms defensively.

"Edmund Reed," he said, extending a hand. "I used to be part of the Society—before it all fell apart. I have information that could help us."

Sophia hesitated but then shook his hand, noting the callouses on his palm, the strength in his grip. "What do you know about Thalia?"

Edmund's expression turned serious. "She's been gathering followers—people disillusioned with the Society's collapse, those looking to reclaim the power we once had. She believes the artifacts are key to resurrecting the Society, and she's willing to do whatever it takes to find them."

"Whatever it takes?" Sophia echoed, her stomach tightening. "What does that mean?"

"It means she won't hesitate to use anyone who stands in her way," Beatrice interjected, her eyes narrowing. "Or to exploit those with magic. She's searching for individuals who have ties to the artifacts, and that includes you, Sophia."

"Why me?" Sophia asked, her voice trembling slightly. "I don't know anything."

"You were part of the core of the Estate's magic," Edmund explained, moving to the table and flipping through some of the papers scattered across it. "Your connection to the artifacts runs deeper than you realize. They're linked to you, and Thalia knows that."

Sophia took a step back, her heart racing. "But I didn't choose this. I left it all behind. I'm not a part of that world anymore."

"Perhaps not by choice," Beatrice said gently, "but you are still a part of it by blood and bond. The artifacts have their own legacy, and that legacy isn't finished with you yet."