Pausing at the edge, Ivy leaned over to touch the water, watching the ripples expand outward.
The cool touch of the water seemed to connect her to the reality of her situation, grounding her in this strange, ancient world.
For a moment, the worries about finding her way home receded, replaced by a deep appreciation for the beauty and peace surrounding her.
"This beauty, it's timeless,"
she whispered, feeling a strange kinship with the garden. Despite the centuries that separated her from her own time, this moment of peace felt eternal—a reminder that some things transcend time and space.
Rejuvenated by the garden's serenity, Ivy felt a renewed sense of resolve. Whatever challenges lay ahead in unraveling the mystery of the amulet and finding her way back, she knew she could face them with the calm and clarity she found here, by the fountain.
Ivy's contemplation was gently interrupted as a warm shawl was draped over her shoulders.
Startled, she turned to see a young woman with eyes as red as tomatoes—a sign of recent tears.
The woman, Tebessa, was the same age as Ivy, and from Eveline's memories, not just any maid, but a dear companion. They had played together as children and grown up side by side.
Despite the gravity of her situation, Ivy couldn't help but chuckle softly at the sight of Tebessa's tear-stained, tomato-red eyes. The laughter, though slight, seemed wildly inappropriate given the mood.
Tebessa, taken aback by the laughter, looked at Ivy with a mix of shock and hurt.
"Why, my lady? Why did you do that? Why are you even laughing now? Do you know how worried I was?"
Her voice cracked as she spoke, each word laden with genuine concern and confusion. Ivy's smile faded as she quickly realized her misstep.
She reached out, touching Tebessa's arm gently.
"I'm sorry, Tebessa. I didn't mean to laugh at the situation. It's just... your eyes reminded me of so many happy moments we shared. It was a reflex, born out of memories and affection, not disregard."
She pulled Tebessa closer, embracing her warmly.
"I can't imagine how confusing and frightening this must have been for you. Please believe me, I never intended to add to your distress."
Tebessa's sobs softened as she leaned into the embrace, the familiarity of their lifelong bond providing a modicum of comfort.
"I just... I thought I had lost you forever,"
she murmured, her voice muffled against Ivy's shoulder. Ivy held her tighter, the weight of her double identity—the responsibilities of being Eveline and the longing to return to her own life as Ivy—pressing down on her.
But in this moment, with Tebessa, she found a tether to Eveline's world that felt both grounding and painfully sweet.
"Let's sit for a while,"
Ivy suggested, guiding them to a nearby bench.
"Tell me everything that's happened. We'll figure this out together, just like we used to."
As they sat quietly in the garden, the night air crisp and soothing, Tebessa shared more about her own life, her voice a soft whisper in the darkness.
"My parents... they left us when we were very young, sold us because they couldn't feed us,"
she confided, a hint of sorrow lacing her words. Ivy listened, each word tightening the knot in her chest. Tebessa continued,
"I have two sisters and a brother. We struggled a lot, but my lady—you—you were always there for me. You even shared your meals, despite having your own needs."
Hearing these accounts, memories not of her own making but of Eveline's compassion and selflessness, stirred something profound within Ivy.
She felt a surge of admiration for the woman whose life she now lived. It was clear Eveline had been more than just a member of a noble family; she was a beacon of kindness in Tebessa's life.
"These memories... they make me realize how much good Eveline did,"
Ivy murmured, her thoughts blending with Eveline's past.
"It's more than just living my life; it's understanding the impact i had, the love i spread." Tebessa nodded, a small smile breaking through her sadness.
"Yes, you did. And now, having you back, it's like a part of happiness has returned to us."
Ivy squeezed Tebessa's hand, strengthened by the stories of kindness.
"I may still be figuring things out, Tebessa, but I promise, I'll continue to be here for you, just as i was."
Their conversation continued into the night, each shared memory and revealed hardship weaving a stronger bond between them.
For Ivy, understanding Eveline's legacy was not just about adapting to a foreign world; it was about embracing the role of someone who had profoundly touched the lives around her, and now, it was her turn to uphold that legacy.
As they sat, the cool night air wrapping around them, Ivy listened intently, piecing together the events that had transpired during her absence and the impact on those she—Eveline—held dear.
Each detail Tebessa provided was a thread, helping Ivy weave together her understanding of this time and her role within iroom.
.
.
.
Tebessa, ever attentive and kind, brought Ivy a tray of light snacks, her way of offering comfort without the weight of words.
The room was quiet, save for the soft rustling of the leaves outside and the occasional distant chatter from the household.
After ensuring Ivy had everything she needed, Tebessa lingered for a moment, her concern palpable in her hesitant gaze.
"Try to rest,"
she whispered gently, as if speaking louder might fracture the calm she tried to preserve.
Once Tebessa had left, closing the door softly behind her, Ivy pretended to settle into sleep. But as soon as the sound of Tebessa's footsteps faded, Ivy's eyes snapped open.
She lay still for a few moments, soaking in the silence, feeling the weight of Eveline's life pressing around her. With a deep breath, she slid out of bed and tiptoed across the room.
Her fingers trembled slightly as they found the familiar texture of the jewelry box on the dresser.
Opening it quietly, she searched through the contents until her fingers brushed against the cool, hard surface of the amulet. Pulling it out, she held it up in the dim light of the room, watching it with an intense focus.