Nepenthe • Something that can make you forget grief or suffering.
Never feeling like they belonged was a feeling that Lissa Dragomir lived with, even with her family and life long best friend, although they aided in that feeling not being so strong...
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Dawn had not yet fully broken when the convoy left the Academy.
The sky stretched in muted shades of blue and grey, the first hints of light barely cresting over the horizon, casting long shadows across the frost-covered grounds of St. Vladimir's. Breath fogged in the cold air as engines idled, low and steady, while students and Guardians moved with quiet efficiency, their voices subdued in a way that reflected the weight of the departure.
Kate stood near the car assigned to their group, Alec bundled carefully in her arms, his toddler frame warm against her chest despite the biting cold. His cheek rested against her shoulder, still half-asleep, his breaths slow and even, blissfully unaware of the significance of the journey ahead. One of her ever gloved hands supported him securely, while the other adjusted the blanket wrapped around him with practiced care.
Dimitri approached from behind, his presence unmistakable even before his hands grabbed her hips under one of his dusters and turned her towards the SUV. "We should go," he said quietly.
Kate turned her head slightly, meeting his gaze, and nodded once, softly. There was no hesitation in her movements as she stepped toward the car, guided by his hands, though the calm she carried was deliberate—constructed.
Lissa and Eddie were already inside, Viktoria sliding in just as Kate settled beside Dimitri, ensuring Alec remained undisturbed sitting on Kate's lap but facing her as he slept. Jesse arrived last, his expression somewhere between irritation and reluctant curiosity, as though the early hour had personally offended him.
No one spoke as the car pulled away from the Academy too tired as the need to sleep through the day began to pull each of them. But no one looked back as the Academy receded behind them, swallowed by distance and morning fog.
The drive to the private airfield was quick, and it was already awake when they arrived.
The aircraft waiting for them was nothing like a commercial plane. Sleek, expansive, and unmistakably designed for both luxury and security, it dominated the tarmac with quiet authority. Its dark exterior absorbed the growing light of the morning, the metal reflecting nothing, offering no hint of what lay inside.
Uniformed personnel moved around it with precise coordination, their movements efficient, practiced, and silent in a way that spoke of long-standing discipline rather than simple routine.
Kate's gaze swept over it once, analytical, taking in exits, sightlines, structural layout, the placement of entry points and the distance between them. Eddie was doing the same a few steps ahead, his shoulders squared, his attention sharp despite the early hour. Viktoria stood just behind him, though her focus was entirely different—her eyes lit with something almost childlike, curiosity and awe blending together as she took in the sheer scale of it.
