Flight of Frost and Aurora

Chapter 54

By the grace of God, Mother Rosamund happened to be passing by while attending to her sister's duties when she witnessed Eisheth and Lute throwing Charlotte down the well. Acting quickly, she ensured that Charlotte fell through the portal to her world instead of into the water. However, while Alastor had only taken a bite or two of the drugged pastry, Charlotte had consumed the entire treat, leaving her very ill. Mother Rosamund had to juggle her responsibilities for Mother Carmilla's tasks with nursing Charlotte back to health.

Poor Charlotte was dazed, slipping in and out of consciousness, her surroundings a blur. A throbbing headache clouded her thoughts, and all she longed for was sleep.

As Mother Rosamund cared for Charlotte, she attentively monitored her condition, drawing on her knowledge of herbal remedies to alleviate the girl's suffering. She brewed a calming tea infused with chamomile and honey, hoping to soothe Charlotte's troubled mind and body.

When she wasn't by Charlotte's side or tending to the arrival of spring, Rosamund was preoccupied with the mysterious disappearance of her sister. Carmilla had vanished without a trace, an uncharacteristic act that left Rosamund deeply concerned. She sensed that something was amiss, but her responsibilities had consumed her time, leaving little room for investigation.

"Why do I have a sneaking suspicion that Madame Katia is involved in this?" she mused aloud.

"Huh?" Charlotte murmured, struggling to stay awake.

"How are you feeling, dear?" Rosamund asked gently. "Don't push yourself if you're not up to it."

"Where am I?"

"In my home—a warm and cozy place, perfect for recovery." She poured a fresh cup of hot tea with honey. "Here, drink this."

Charlotte accepted the cup with trembling hands, the warmth contrasting sharply with the chill that had settled in her bones. She sipped cautiously, the soothing flavors of chamomile and honey easing her discomfort just a bit.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Who are you?"

"Mother Rosamund, at your service."

Charlotte gazed at the woman in disbelief. No, it couldn't be her. Not the real Mother Rosamund—the legendary figure she had heard countless stories about since childhood. Yet, as she took in the supernatural warmth and light radiating from her, how could she be anyone else?

"Are you really her?" Charlotte asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes, I am, Charlotte."

"You know my name?"

"Oh, I know much more than that. I've been aware of you since the day you were born. I also know that your dreadful stepfamily tried to drown you in the well."

"They did?"

"Yes, and they would have succeeded if I hadn't spotted them. Thankfully, we built our secret entrances in wells."

"Wait, I went down the well?"

"Yes."

"But according to legend, you live in the heavens."

"That's correct."

"Is that where I am now?"

"Yes, dear."

"But how could I go down something and then end up up here?"

"Don't try to apply logic in this world, Charlotte; it'll give you a splitting headache." She chuckled softly.

"Where's Alastor? And my father?"

"They're still on Earth, probably searching for you."

"Then I must go back."