Snowflakes In The Dark

31: Shadows of the Past

Moonlight seeped into the room, casting an eerie, silvery glow that danced across the walls, illuminating the dark corners with an almost ghostly shimmer. The steady rhythm of crashing waves outside filled the silence, mingling with the soft snoring of the inn's other occupants. The gentle rise and fall of the sea seemed to mirror Morana's own turbulent thoughts, which churned and crashed within her as she lay restless beside Lucy.

The painted ceiling above her, adorned with whimsical depictions of ocean creatures—playful dolphins, majestic whales, and schools of fish frozen in a perpetual dance—felt out of place against the heaviness weighing on Morana's heart. Her eyes lingered on the painted waves, their playful strokes doing little to ease her unease. Each breath she took was shallow, her chest tight with a sense of impending danger that refused to let her sleep.

On the other bed, Elara slept soundly, her small frame tucked comfortably against Loke's side. The celestial mage's serene expression, however, sharply contrasted with Loke's furrowed brow and tense posture. He twitched in his sleep, his fingers gripping the sheets as if they were his only lifeline. A faint whimper escaped his lips—barely audible but laced with enough fear to make Morana's stomach twist. She knew those sounds all too well; Loke was trapped in the throes of a nightmare.

Morana's gaze shifted to him, her expression softening for a fleeting moment. She couldn't help but wonder what haunted him so deeply. Was it the weight of his past, memories of battles long since fought, or something more sinister lurking in his subconscious? Whatever it was, it mirrored the unease that kept her awake, knitting their fears together in the quiet of the night.

Elara's silver hair glimmered under the moonlight, spilling over Loke's chest like a silken curtain. She looked so small, so vulnerable—a far cry from the determined young woman they'd met just hours ago. Morana felt a pang of something she hadn't expected: protectiveness. Not just for Elara, but for all of them. This fragile alliance they had formed was tenuous, but it was theirs, and Morana would be damned if she let the shadows that followed her drag them down.

She shifted silently, careful not to wake Lucy, and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Her feet touched the cold wooden floor, sending a shiver up her spine. Morana knew she wouldn't find peace tonight, not with the pull of unanswered questions gnawing at her every thought. There was only one way to silence the noise—she had to find out what was really going on in this town and why the cult seemed to have its claws in everything.

Without a sound, Morana grabbed her coat and slipped it tightly around herself, the familiar weight of it grounding her as she moved toward the door. She paused for a moment, glancing back at her sleeping companions, and a fleeting sense of guilt washed over her. This wasn't just her fight anymore, but she couldn't risk dragging them into something that went deeper than any of them realized.

With one last look at the slumbering room, Morana slipped out into the night, leaving the warmth of the inn behind. The air outside was cool, tinged with the briny scent of the ocean, and the moon hung low, casting an ominous light over the quiet streets. Morana pulled her hood up, her expression hardening as she made her way toward the celestial sphere shop. Whatever awaited her there, she was ready to face it—even if it meant confronting the darkest parts of her past.

The town was quiet, the only sounds being the rhythmic crashing of waves against the seaside cliffs bordering Mérida. Moonlight spilled over the cobblestone streets, casting ethereal shadows that danced alongside the stillness of the night. As Morana moved stealthily through the narrow lanes, her heart pounded like a drum in her chest, the unease she felt growing with each step. She was on a mission to uncover the truth at Celestial Sphere, the celestial magic shop that had been plagued by mysterious vandalism, a thread in the tangled web spun by the cult she despised.