Chapter 89. The Price

“Hannah... you have to eat your veggies as well,” the middle aged woman gently scolded, sitting across the table from young Hannah.

“But... Mommy, you aren’t even eating a burger. I wanted to save this one for you, at least,” the young girl replied with a bright smile, carefully picking the green lettuce out of her burger.

Her mother chuckled, wiping her mouth with a paper napkin. “Oh, you crafty girl. Do you really think I don’t know this is just a scheme to make me eat the veggies so you don’t have to? That act won't work on me.”

Hannah pouted, her small shoulders dropping defensively. “No... Mommy, I just really don’t like that you only spend your money buying nice things for me.”

A soft pause fell between them. For a few seconds, the ambient chatter and the clinking of plastic trays in the busy fast food restaurant were the only sounds filling the silence.

Hannah’s mother softened, offering a remarkably kind, bittersweet smile. “My... you are such a sweet girl.” She reached over and affectionately patted Hannah’s head. “When you grow up and have a family of your own... when you become a mother yourself, I am sure you will understand exactly how I feel.”

“I can become a cool mommy like you when I grow up?” Hannah asked, enthusiastically stuffing her mouth with a french fry.

Her mother smiled brightly, gently pinching her cheek. “Of course. Why wouldn't you? I am sure you will be a much cooler mother than I am. Now, eat your veggies.”

The warm sound of her mother’s chuckling echoed through the hustle and bustle of the restaurant, the mother and daughter blissfully enjoying each other's company in the simple, fleeting moment.

Rattle... Rattle...

The carriage rattled steadily along the snowy, uneven path. Francesca raised an eyebrow, looking across at Miller, who seemed lost in his thoughts as he stared out the frosted glass window.

“What is it?” she asked softly.

“What do you-” Miller started, preparing to feign ignorance, but Francesca immediately cut him off. “Something has been up with you ever since Kenny handed you those documents back at the cave. What is it? You seem deeply troubled.”

Miller tightened his grip around the sealed envelope resting in his lap. “It’s nothing-” he began, but quickly stopped himself.

His inner voice echoed loudly in his mind: We promised not to keep any more secrets from each other. Hiding this will only hurt her far more when she eventually finds out on her own... I have to be honest. I have to be the one to tell her, and I have to be right here with her when she reads it.

Taking a slow, heavy breath, he handed the document over to her. “The results from the blood sample sent to test your soul's condition... they arrived today. I... I already read them.”

Francesca took the heavy parchment from his hands, her brow furrowing as she broke the wax seal. “What does it say that has you looking so troubled? Now you are scaring me.”

Before she could even finish reading the first few lines, Miller reached across the carriage and gently held her free hand.

Francesca began to read aloud, her eyes scanning the High Priest's elegant script. “We detected two distinct soul fractures in Lady Francesca Ironwood’s soul shape... One of them perfectly aligns with her previous diagnostic reports, the congenital fracture she has carried since birth, which has manifested physically to hinder the motor functions of her right leg...”

As she finished reading the first section, she scoffed lightly. “Well, of course. I already knew that. The physicians checked it every single year, after all.”

Then, her golden eyes moved down to the next paragraph. “The second fracture is determined to be fresh, estimated to be only a few months old. We believe this severe spiritual fracture has also manifested physically...”

Francesca suddenly paused. Without warning, her vision began to blur.

Hot, raw, involuntary tears welled up, clouding her eyes as she forced herself to finish reading the sentence. Her voice cracked, shattering into a devastated whisper.

“...making her unable to conceive a child... forevermore.”

“Francesca...” Miller whispered in a slow, achingly calm voice, shifting closer to comfort her.

“It’s nothing... I don't know why I am-” Francesca tried to speak, but the words failed her.

She couldn’t explain it. The tears just kept flowing, spilling hot and fast down her cheeks. She didn’t fully understand the sudden, overwhelming wave of grief that was violently choking her heart. The fresh fracture on her soul had taken something from her before she even realized she wanted it.

“I was never even that keen on having children anyway... so why...?” she gasped out, her voice breaking completely.

She just started sobbing uncontrollably, her body trembling under the immense weight of the loss. Miller immediately pulled her against his chest, wrapping his strong arms securely around her shaking frame.

“Francesca...” Miller murmured into her silver hair. He didn’t know what else to say to fix it, so he said nothing at all. He just held her tightly.

They stayed exactly like that as the carriage rattled on through the cold, uncaring snow, her bitter tears slowly soaking through his shirt, while the heartbreaking sound of her muffled sobbing echoed in the small space.

In the depths of her profound sorrow, Francesca’s racing thoughts drifted to the words of a famous philosopher from her past life.

We think that it is quite normal to travel to the other side of the world whenever we want to. To be able to instantly communicate our thoughts the very moment we feel them.

High above the treacherous mountain pass, a small messenger bird launched itself into the falling snow, flying out of the Ironwood caldera and heading south toward the Capital.

It is commonplace to wish for these little pieces of happiness to continue on forever: like a brilliant, modern night where the isolating silence of the dark has been completely forgotten.

But what if one day, all of a sudden... you lose everything that is important to you?

Your freedom to soar like a bird, your perfectly fulfilled life, and the comforting glow of the night?

The small bird struggled against the harsh, howling storm, fighting to descend from the mountain’s high altitudes. But it flapped its wings with fierce, desperate speed, rising above the freezing, chaotic winds just as the pale light of the moon barely pierced through the heavy clouds.

If you were suddenly plunged into the darkness of the night... would you still be able to find a twinkle in the black sky?

Would you try to grab onto that light? With those two hands of yours?