Page 79 of Potion of Deception (Potion of Deception #1)

UNHEALABLE WOUNDS

T he trees and snowy fields rolled past the window as Violette sat in the carriage. The fogginess outside and the icy ground were the only things she remembered about this trip. She looked through all of it, the empty eyes of a hurt soul watching as the landscapes changed over hours.

Dante didn't come with her. He didn't even show up as she departed.

The way home was hazy – her mind was a labyrinth of thoughts about what happened in the last hours.

She wished to think about something else but she was haunted by the visions of the past. Betrayal was the only thing she could feel as the carriage was moving through all those places she saw for the first time with Dante just some days ago.

She lost track of time, not paying much attention to what was happening outside, instead she was traveling through the memories which she had to bury now.

How ironic, they'd visited so many dead places but now, the one who felt less alive was her .

The young man who drove the coach accompanied her throughout all of her journey. She assumed Dante paid or lured him; she didn't really care at this point. She just wanted to go home. To see her father. At least, she had something real waiting for her.

One blink and she again stood by the lake with the portal. It was time to go back where she belonged – the splash of the water echoed through the cave.

One sigh and she was already in the middle of the lake in the night garden. The trees were blissing with light just like the night she was here the last time. The fireflies glowed bright before her eyes as she stepped out to leave this place forever.

Her companion took her to the city and finally everything started to feel more real, like the phantasm of the dreams started fading away. Soon a familiar sign emerged before her eyes and it felt like awakening.

The amicable willows at the entrance to the city greeted Violette with their presence, lightning something warm in her chest. The small houses blended with the high buildings, streets so familiar and dear to her heart, were filled with ever-burning magic and lights.

Her eyes followed the changing streets with longing as the colorful shop signs were flashing outside the windows.

It has been forever since she left this place, though everything stayed as it was.

It was her place, her town, her home and yet – she still felt the aching like she lost something while being away.

A part of herself, perhaps. The street lights were burning just the same when she saw them for the last time, but she was different.

The pain of losing something that turned out to be fake will forever linger underneath her skin.

She crossed the threshold of her house. The familiar smell that met her nose seemed to be a dream but it didn’t awaken excitement in her heart as she expected.

Everything seemed so different when nothing changed.

Her chest squeezed, something heavy weighed her soul, even though a smile tugged the corner of her lips when she finally found herself in the living room.

“Violette!” A male voice burst into the air and she shut her eyes. Finally her smile grew sincere and wide.

She turned around and fell into her father's arms. “Why didn't you send a letter that you're coming?”

She only took a deep breath in and out, burying her nose in his shoulder.

Tears streamed down her face. It was a conjunction of happiness and grieving.

How badly she wanted to see him, and she couldn't believe she finally made it to him.

How badly she'd wanted to tell him everything she'd been through just to be here, just to hear his voice again.

“Honey, did something happen?” he asked, pulling back to look at her watery eyes, his brows furrowed with concern.

Violette shook her head.

“I just missed you…All of it,” she sobbed .

“Did you become homesick after two weeks? Oh, darling,” he chuckled softly, “I missed you too.” He hugged her again and Violette felt at home. A warmth spread through her chest, a dreamed glimpse of relief.

She closed her eyes, but the only image that surfaced in the back of her mind was a field of dreams, burning with regrets. All the stitches of the embroidery she made for the past two weeks started undoing themselves like they had never happened. Not to her.