Nighttime.
The cool, unfamiliar air rustled through the dense foliage as Lydia and Helena slowly pulled away from their embrace, their eyes adjusting to the dimming world around them. A strange, unsettling quiet had settled over the woods. Helena blinked, confused. "Why is it suddenly dark?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Perhaps it's already night," Lydia replied casually, though her tone carried a trace of sadness that seemed to be swept away by the evening breeze. "How long did we spend teleporting? I had thought it would be quick."
Helena scanned their surroundings. The trees loomed large, their darkened silhouettes casting long shadows over the damp forest floor. "It must be this strange place," she murmured.
Lydia narrowed her eyes and shot Helena a sidelong glance. "I thought you said you've traveled all of Critic-Ishire with your mother," she deadpanned.
Helena rolled her eyes. "Yes, but I've never been here. I fear we're not even in Critic-Ishire."
Lydia's brow furrowed. "Where could we be?" she wondered aloud, her voice tinged with uncertainty.
Helena's expression grew intense. "A dreadful place... a place that has been destroyed and knows only pain," she whispered, her voice thick with foreboding. The darkness had deepened so much that it felt as though they were no longer beneath the open sky, but under the dense canopy of a cursed forest.
Lydia glanced around uneasily. The air felt heavy, oppressive, and each breath seemed to carry the weight of unseen eyes. "What place is that? Helena, stop being so ominous," Lydia urged, trying to shake off the eerie feeling creeping over her.
"Sagerogsé," Helena let out, her voice low and dangerous.
Lydia scoffed, her eyes widening in disbelief. "Sagerogsé? Really, Helena? If we were in Sagerogsé, there would already be guards coming to collect us for their ruler. You know the stories of the sorcerer kingdom as well as I do. This can't be it."
Helena sighed deeply, settling onto the damp grass. The weight of their situation pressed on them like a shroud. "Then where do you think we are?"
Lydia knelt down beside her, resting her hands in her lap. "Somewhere I've read about... give me time," she muttered thoughtfully.
Helena let out a soft, exasperated breath. "If only you had given yourself time to think all this while, perhaps we'd know where we are by now," she quipped, her voice tinged with frustration.
Lydia shot her a sharp look. "We both know that's not true," she retorted, her tone laced with equal parts irritation and resignation.
With synchronized sighs, they both lay back on the grass, gazing up at the slowly gathering stars. The sky above was vast and dark, with faint pinpricks of light beginning to emerge through the velvety night.
"We are sisters," Lydia said softly after a long silence, the words hanging in the cool air between them.
"And Azul is my father... he is the reason for all of this," Helena replied, her voice thick with pain and a deep-rooted hatred.
"What do you mean?" Lydia asked, her heart tightening as she sensed the depth of her sister's hurt.
Helena's voice trembled slightly. "I think... I think the daughter he's been looking for—the one whose death would give him powers—is me, not you."
Lydia's confusion deepened. "What? Helena, what does that mean?" she asked softly, a tremor of unease in her voice.
Helena blinked, her mind flashing through memories of her mother. "My mother and I were always on the run, fleeing through the kingdom. She always said someone was coming for us. But she never told me... never told me it was Azul."
A chill settled over Lydia's spine. "If we are both his daughters, and you have powers, perhaps you already took them from him without knowing it."
Helena's eyes met hers, the weight of the truth settling between them. "Yes, I believe so. As witches, the life we create often draws power from our parents. But the true transfer happens after the parent dies... the powers pass on to the child."
Lydia's face paled. "So you might have taken his powers at birth, and now he believes I took them because he didn't know of your existence until today?" she asked, her voice barely audible.
Helena nodded solemnly. "Exactly. He's searching for us now, believing one of us holds the key to his lost power."
Lydia pressed her lips together, her mind racing. Despite everything, a small part of her still longed for her father, still wanted to believe he had good intentions. "But why do you think that's why he's hunting us?" she asked, her voice trembling with hope.
"A fellow of his told me," Helena replied, recalling the clueless witch she had seen hiding during the earlier attack.
Silence fell between them as Lydia gazed up at the starry sky. "Now we know why we look so much alike," she whispered, more to herself than to Helena.
Helena let out a bitter laugh. "Sadly, it's because we both look like Azul. It's his mark on us."
The sisters lay in the quiet forest, their hearts heavy with the weight of their lineage. Being Azul's daughters came with more burdens than just his legacy. They were stranded, in the dark, and soon they would be starving. Danger was looming, and it was not just the forest that threatened them—it was their father's pursuit.
Lying still in the growing darkness, they both knew sleep would not come easily. "We should try to rest. By morning, we'll need to find our way home," Helena suggested.
Soon, Helena's soft snores filled the air, her body finally succumbing to the exhaustion of the day's events. Lydia, however, remained wide awake, her mind restless. She turned over, trying to push away the thoughts of what had happened earlier, telling herself that it wasn't real. That Theodore was still waiting for her at home, safe and sound.
Time seemed to stretch endlessly, but just when Lydia thought she would never find sleep, it claimed her.
The night passed swiftly, and moments later, a blinding light pierced the gloom. Lydia rushed toward the waterfall, her heart leaping at the sight before her.
"Theodore, you're here!" she squealed, her voice filled with joy.