But as she fled, regret began to seep in. She knew nothing of the world outside the witch's union, and her rashness started to gnaw at her. She came to a halt and sat down to think things through. Looking around, she realized she was in a dense forest, with the union's clearing still visible in the distance. She decided to press on, moving further away. She couldn't risk being found, or she might never live through another attempt to escape.
As she ran, a strange sense of freedom washed over her, and tears began to flow. The wind, the air, the grass beneath her feet—it was all so wonderful, something she had never fully appreciated before. "I never want to go back," she thought. "I want to be free."
But she was tired, so tired and afraid. The night was pitch dark, and she couldn't sleep. Ants and bugs crawled all over her, but she couldn't turn back—not for anything in the world.
Seraphine's heart pounded as she pushed through the dense forest, the brambles tearing at her clothes and skin, but she didn't care. The adrenaline from her escape still coursed through her veins, and despite the throbbing pain in her body from years of torment, she felt a strange, fleeting sense of freedom. The night was silent, save for the rustling of leaves and her shallow breaths. She had no idea where she was going, but that hardly mattered. All that mattered was that she was away—from the witches, from the abuse, from Calista.
The moon hung low in the sky, casting an eerie glow over the forest. Shadows danced on the trees, and the cold night air bit at her skin. Seraphine was utterly alone, lost in a world she had never known. Her fear began to creep in, replacing the brief sense of freedom she had felt. She wrapped her arms around herself, shivering not just from the cold, but from the realization that she had no one.
*No one in the world to care for me. No one who knows I'm even gone.*
As she moved further into the forest, exhaustion caught up with her. Her legs trembled with every step, and her vision blurred from the fatigue. She stumbled, nearly falling to the ground, but she caught herself, gasping for air. Her body begged her to stop, to rest, but her mind screamed otherwise. She couldn't risk stopping now. Not so soon after her escape.
But then she heard it—a voice.
"Hey, are you alright?"
Seraphine froze, her breath caught in her throat. A figure emerged from the shadows—a young woman, no older than Seraphine herself. She had soft brown hair, loose and flowing over her shoulders, and kind eyes that shimmered in the moonlight. There was something oddly comforting about her presence.
"You look hurt," the girl said, stepping closer. "Do you need help?"
Seraphine hesitated, torn between her desperation for safety and the ingrained distrust she had developed from years of cruelty. But the girl seemed so genuine, her expression filled with concern, and Seraphine was too exhausted to refuse.
"Who are you?" Seraphine managed to whisper, her voice hoarse from days of pain and fear.
"My name is Lira," the girl replied with a warm smile. "I live nearby. I can help you."
Seraphine looked into Lira's eyes, searching for any hint of deception, but she saw nothing but compassion. Against her better judgment, she nodded. She was too tired, too broken to resist any longer.
Lira gently wrapped her arm around Seraphine, helping her walk. "You're safe now," she whispered. "I promise."
Seraphine leaned into her, grateful for the support, and allowed herself to be led deeper into the forest. The path was narrow and winding, but Lira seemed to know where she was going. After what felt like hours of walking, they arrived at a small cabin nestled among the trees. It was humble, with smoke curling from the chimney, and the warmth radiating from it was inviting.
Lira led Seraphine inside, and the sudden rush of warmth hit her like a wave. She hadn't realized how cold she had been until now. Lira helped her to a chair by the fire and fetched a blanket, wrapping it around her shoulders.
"You've been through a lot, haven't you?" Lira asked softly, sitting across from her.
Seraphine nodded, feeling the weight of her exhaustion pressing down on her. She hadn't spoken to anyone in so long, not since the torment had become a daily routine.
Lira handed her a cup of something warm. "Drink this, it'll help."
Seraphine hesitated, staring down at the liquid. She had been poisoned before, tricked into believing kindness only to be met with cruelty. But Lira's eyes were so sincere. Slowly, she took a sip. The warmth spread through her body, easing the tension in her muscles.
"You can rest here for as long as you need," Lira said, her voice gentle. "You're safe now. No one will hurt you anymore."
For the first time in years, Seraphine felt a spark of hope. Maybe, just maybe, she had finally found someone who wouldn't betray her. Someone who could be the friend she had longed for all these years.
Weeks passed, and in that time, Seraphine settled into life with Lira. The betrayal she had once feared no longer lingered in her thoughts as the vampire woman proved herself time and again to be a friend. Lira wasn't what Seraphine expected, though she wasn't quite sure what she had expected to begin with. Every day, Lira brought her food, warmth, and kindness. They would sit by the fire at night, sharing stories—though Lira did most of the talking. Seraphine, still scarred by her years of torment, found it difficult to open up.
On this particular evening, Seraphine sat in a small chair by the hearth, her legs tucked under her. The flickering flames cast a soft glow over the room, illuminating Lira's face as she poked at the embers, her expression thoughtful.
"Did you know," Lira began, her voice soft, almost conversational, "the witches weren't always like this? They used to live in a small city, far from the union where you were kept."