Seraphina stepped into the quiet of the night, the chill of the April air biting against her damp skin.
The soft scent of grass and fresh blooms drifted with the wind, but it offered her no comfort.
Her bare feet moved across the cobblestone path of the side yard, which was eerily silent.
She didn't know where she was going, nor did she care.
The numbness in her heart was all-encompassing, a heavy weight pressing down on her chest.
As she wandered aimlessly, a soft, gurgling sound reached her ears, breaking through the stillness.
Curious, she followed the noise, her steps slow and hesitant.
After some time, she arrived at a small, clear stream that wound its way through the garden.
The Celestial Citadel's backyard was vast, its design intricate and elegant.
The spring-fed stream flowed gently beneath arched stone bridges, past ornate pavilions, and under the shadows of blooming trees.
Lanterns swayed in the breeze, their dim light casting an eerie glow.
But the beauty of it all felt hollow, cold. The large garden was empty, devoid of life, save for Seraphina.
Kneeling by the water's edge, she cupped the icy water in her hands and began scrubbing at her skin.
Dirty.
The word echoed in her mind. No matter how hard she scrubbed, the filth she felt clinging to her wouldn't wash away.
Her hands moved frantically, the rough motion scraping her skin until it burned. But she didn't stop.
The cold water seeped into her bones, but she remained numb. Above her, the night stretched on, dark and unending.
When she glanced at the shadows cast by the swaying lanterns, she thought she saw his face, the face of the man who had shattered her world.
The humiliation.
The pain.
It all came rushing back.
Finally, her strength gave out. Collapsing to her knees, she wept softly, her tears falling into the stream.
The sound of her quiet sobs carried through the still garden, blending with the bubbling of the water.
She cried for what felt like hours, her sorrow echoing into the empty night.
A faint cough broke through the silence.
Seraphina froze, her tears halting as she held her breath.
The sound came again, a low, muffled cough, accompanied by the faint smell of alcohol drifting on the wind.
Slowly, she turned toward the noise.
Her eyes landed on a nearby pavilion, partially obscured by the shadows of trees.
Beneath its elegant roof, she could just make out the figure of someone leaning lazily against the carved railing, a flask in hand.
Was it a person?
Or a ghost?
Her heart raced, and she considered running.
Before she could move, a calm voice called out from the pavilion:
"Miss, if you don't mind, join me for a drink. Life is full of hardships, why not ease the pain with a bit of wine?"
The voice was smooth, almost musical, but carried a chilling undertone that sent shivers down her spine.
Yet, despite its coldness, the words themselves felt oddly comforting, like a fragile light piercing through her darkness.
She hesitated.
The man spoke again, his tone unhurried.
Moments later, a young maid emerged from the shadows, carrying a thick fox-fur cloak in her arms.
"This is from my young master," the maid said stiffly, holding the fur out to Seraphina. "He offers it to you to cover yourself."
Seraphina glanced down at her wet, bruised body and hesitated again.