Orryns POV:
"I'm sorry, Fleya, there's truly nothing I can do," Seraphina voiced regretfully, her words as soft as the summer breeze that lazily rustled the leaves outside. She was handing Fleya the grim verdict I had already conveyed, a bitter pill that seemed to get harder to swallow with each repetition. "Nadya's silence is rooted in her psyche, not her physique."
When I had first relayed Nadya's condition, Fleya stubbornly insisted that Seraphina must see her. She was convinced I was waving a white flag prematurely, without offering a proper fight. After a heated, emotionally fraught exchange, I acquiesced. It was only fair that Fleya heard the disheartening news from a medical expert.
"There must be something... anything," Fleya implored, her voice fracturing under the crushing weight of her desperation. "There has to be..."
"I'm sorry, Fleya, but the battle is now Nadya's to fight," Seraphina responded sympathetically.
With a swift move, Fleya was out of the tent like a frightened deer, not daring to cast a glance back. Nadya began to stir, but I intercepted her with a gentle touch on her arm.
"I've got this," I assured her, pressing a tender kiss on her worry-lined forehead. "I'll be right back."
I shot a look towards Seraphina, then back at Nadya before I made my way out. The silent exchange was enough for the empathetic doctor to comprehend my silent plea: to stay with Nadya till I returned.
I moved instinctively towards the sanctuary I knew Fleya would seek when her heart was heavy, a secluded stream that murmured a soothing lullaby as it flowed. There she was, sitting on its grassy bank with her feet submerged in the cool water that babbled by. A blank expression had claimed her normally vibrant face, a vacant look that eerily echoed the haunted gaze from the day we lost our family, our home, our status, and nearly our lives.
"It's all my fault," She confessed with a whisper, her voice barely louder than the rustling reeds at the water's edge, fully aware of my presence. "Nadya warned me not to mention you, but I just didn't listen..."
Her tears, escaping from the corners of her eyes, dribbled down her cheeks and fell to join the stream. Each tear-drop left a tiny ripple in the water as her body quivered with soundless sobs. "Why didn't I just listen..."
"Fleya, it's not your fault," I finally broke my silence, taking a seat on the dewy grass next to her. "You can't shoulder the guilt for the heinous actions of others."
"But I do," she retorted, her voice choked with guilt and self-blame. "I always end up hurting the ones I love."
"It wasn't your fault," I repeated, in an attempt to comfort her. However, I was all too aware of how my words might sound empty and unconvincing to her ears.
That was not your fault, I say trying to sooth her worries but knowing it fell on death ears.
Fleya has a history of blaming herself, a habit as stubborn as she is. No matter what anyone else told her, she chose to bear this heavy cross of guilt. She was doomed to forever loathe herself for the past she couldn't rewrite.
For the transgressions of a man so consumed by avarice and ambition, he saw not the people he was meant to safeguard, only the pawns to be exploited. Fleya wasn't to blame for failing to discern the monstrous truth lurking beneath his charming masquerade. Neither were we to be faulted for our cloistered innocence within our home's walls, ignorant of the heinous atrocities he perpetuated in his quest for supremacy.
Had we known, our adoration for him wouldn't have been so naively undying. We wouldn't have extolled his virtues or shared a meal with a man whose hands were irrevocably stained with the blood of countless innocents. And I would have guarded the cryptic whispers that fate bestowed upon me, instead of freely sharing them with him.
We could endlessly torment ourselves with guilt over the course of that fateful night, shifting the blame back and forth in a tragic endless cycle. But the stark, irrefutable reality is that they perished because of his insatiable lust for power. And I am resolved, even if it takes me to the very precipice of my final breath, he will pay for the pain he's inflicted. I will make certain of that.