Whispers of the Dove / R.L & S.B

🌼~°1°~🌼

<<<<Willow>>>>

A long time ago

The walls of my father's study felt like they were closing in, the towering shelves of books a fortress I could no longer bear. His voice echoed in my ears, sharp and unyielding, reciting yet another spell I was meant to master.

"You're capable of more than this, Willow. You must focus."

I could still feel the weight of his expectations crushing me, even as I clutched the completed Animagus potion in my trembling hands. It was supposed to mark my freedom, a final achievement that would let me step out of his shadow. Instead, it was just another chain.

But tonight, I had a plan.

I waited until the house was quiet, the echo of my father's footsteps fading as he retreated to his room. My heart pounded as I placed the vial to my lips, the bitter liquid burning as it slid down my throat. The transformation began almost immediately-a searing heat that spread through my limbs, reshaping, reforming. Pain mixed with exhilaration as feathers burst from my skin, my bones hollowing and shrinking.

When it was over, I stood on the windowsill-a white dove, trembling but free. Without a moment's hesitation, I spread my wings and launched into the night. The cool air swept through my feathers, carrying me far from the oppressive mansion that had been my cage for as long as I could remember.

I didn't stop flying until the city lights of London spread beneath me. Exhausted, I found a quiet alley and reverted to my human form, collapsing against the cold brick wall. My breath came in ragged gasps, my heart pounding with a mix of fear and relief. I was free, but I was also alone.

For the next week, I wandered the streets, clutching a worn satchel that held little more than parchment and ink. My clothes were dirty, my stomach gnawed with hunger, but my mind was sharp, fueled by a single connection to the life I had left behind: Lily.

Every night, by the dim glow of streetlamps, I wrote to her.

Dear Lily,
I'm safe, but I've left. I can't stay with him anymore.

Dear Lily,
Today I saw a couple laughing in the park. It reminded me of us, how we always said we'd explore the world together someday. I wish you were here.

The letters became my anchor, a lifeline to the only person who had ever truly understood me. I didn't expect replies-how could I, when I had no place for them to reach me? But writing to her felt like hope, like I wasn't entirely lost.

On the seventh day, I sat huddled in an abandoned storefront, the chill of the evening settling into my bones. My quill hovered over the parchment, but for once, the words wouldn't come.

A soft, familiar voice broke through the silence. "Willow."

I looked up, startled, to see Lily standing in the doorway, her green eyes filled with a mix of relief and worry. She held out a hand, her smile gentle. "Come on. Let's get you somewhere warm."

I blinked, too stunned to speak, and then took her hand. Her warmth seeped into my cold fingers, grounding me.

She led me to a small, cozy flat where we sat by the fire, and for the first time in days, I felt safe. Over tea, I told her everything-the pressure, the escape, the fear. She listened without interrupting, her hand resting reassuringly on mine.