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   Chapter 52 No.52

The WeatherMaker Hearts Desire By Lady Lilium Characters: 5645

Updated: 2018-07-10 19:03

Silence followed her, and by the time Farrell raised his head, he realised she was gone. He had been so deep in thought, that his breakfast by the time he ate it, was stone cold.

Farrell left his home shortly after; there were still questions that he wanted to ask Nevina, so he went searching for her. He found her in the centre of the town, sitting upon her cart as if waiting for him. The cart carried all her worldly possessions, alongside all the other curious things she would buy and sell over the years. It was a modest cart, with a seat at the front for a single person to sit behind the pony that pulled it. The pony was a strange creature, too small to be comfortably ridden by anyone other than a child. Its body and neck was brown and black striped, and its legs and face were pure white. Like everything else about her, it was strange.

Farrell approached the cart, Nevina watched him closely as he did so. He stopped before her, noticing then that everything within the cart was all tied down and covered with a sheet that would repel the rain. Her pony was strapped to the cart with all its harnesses in place, and Nevina herself sat in the seat, wearing her travelling cloak, thick and warm and a little dishevelled.

'You're leaving?' Farrell asked in surprise.

'I've stayed here for far too long' Nevina said to him. 'I have so much still to do, so much still to see. The world is out there, its waiting for me.'

'I won't see you again' Farrell said to her, not as a question, but as a statement.

As he said this, he felt a sudden pang of loneliness, as he realised he was losing her forever.

Nevina smiled warmly at him, she leant forward, grabbing his shirt and pulling him towards her. She gave him a gift of one last kiss that was all too brief, before sitting back in her seat and snapping the reins. Her pony jerked its head back, walking briskly forwards.

'I've still so much to ask you' Farrell called after her. 'I need your advice!'

'Look to your heart' she called back to him, barely glancing around as her pony pulled her onwards. 'Your instincts will tell you what to do, but if you insist on my advice…' she turned fully to him now, 'find your daughter.'

She snapped the reins again, sending the pony into a canter, and in no time at all, she was gone forever from Farrell's life.

Farrell stood there, feeling more lost and alone than he had done in years. At last he forced himself to turn away, and walk back to his home. Upon the sight of it, he felt even more depressed.

His home, once well cared for and grand, had now fallen into ruins. Since his wife's death all those years ago, his life had fallen into ruins alongside it, as has everything around him. He no longer held his position as the highest ranking soldier in the kingdom, and over the la

st few years, had spent his days only existing, with no longer any purpose in life. He had been forced to sell many of his possessions in order to survive. His servants, once having many, he had been forced to discharge; now he had none. His mares, tens of which he had once owned, he had sold, along with all their foals. He now lived completely alone in his large house, which inside was empty of everything besides the most basic of essentials. The house itself had fallen into disrepair, on his own he had not been able to care for it, and had not the money to pay for its upkeep. All he had now was an empty building, and Alastor. His faithful horse which he had managed to keep was now old and worn like his master, the beast had greyed and slowed over the ages, but was still fit to ride.

Farrell called Alastor over to him as he walked slowly up the stone path, meandering around the tall weeds that grew between the flagstones. The mighty stallion lifted his head, trotting across the field on command and stopping before him.

Farrell smiled warmly up at the stallion, reaching over the fence and stroking him affectionately, before moving off again. Alastor stayed where he was, lowering his head to eat grass and flicking his tail.

Farrell ambled up the steps to his home, and towards the front door. He paused before them, remembering suddenly how Ramana used to struggle to open them, and how annoyed she would get when she couldn't do it. He felt sad then, regretting so much in his life, as he had every day since the day she died. He missed her so dearly; it felt like a physical pain in his heart that was almost unbearable. She had meant so much to him, now……there was no going back.

And then he thought of Amaia.

Farrell walked forwards, opening the door to his home and closing it behind him.

He stood there in the entrance hall, taking in his surroundings. This place, once a home so warm and full of life, was now cold and barren. Farrell's attention drifted towards the stairs, and he remembered how Amaia used to run up and down them, and how he used to tell her off for doing so, saying how if she carried on she would one day hurt herself. But she never listened, stubborn as she was, just like her mother.

He looked to his right, where there was upon the wall, a great painting of himself, standing beside his wife, with their daughter between them. They all looked so happy in the painting, as happy as they had once been. Farrell remembered then with a flicker of a smile, the day that it was painted. The way Ramana had fussed over anything that wasn't to her satisfaction. The way Amaia had fidgeted so much and complained, after which Ramana began to complain too. By the end of it, he had been so exasperated with the both of them he was ready to pull his hair out.

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