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   Chapter 119 No.119

The WeatherMaker Hearts Desire By Lady Lilium Characters: 5190

Updated: 2018-07-11 12:03

He slouched over to the bed, and fell back upon it, falling asleep in minutes.

He was woken sometime later when Annabel came to his room. She shook him gently awake and he sat up, seeing her there now wearing her nightdress. She carried a small lantern in one hand, and a cup of steaming liquid in the other.

'Hey' she whispered quietly to him. 'I hope I'm not disturbing you.'

Shawn smiled. 'You could never disturb me' he whispered back. 'I'm surprised you….'


'Well I thought you'd be….you know…..a little drunk?'

'I am not as irresponsible as some of the men' Annabel replied quietly, 'and besides, I'm used to the stuff.' The inn now was utterly silent, and the hour was very late. 'I brought you something to drink' Annabel said.


'No. It's just a sweet drink.'

Annabel handed him the cup and Shawn sipped it, tasting the hot liquid, it was flavoured sweet honey and lemon.

'It's nice' he said.

'My mother used to give it to me before bed' Annabel explained. 'She used to say it would help me sleep. But I don't think it ever did.'

'So why are you giving it to me now?'

Annabel shrugged. 'Just an excuse to see you I suppose.' She smiled. 'I just wanted to see if you were ok.'

'I'm fine.'

'Good. Then I will see you in the morning.'

She headed back to the door, turning back and winking at him before slipping through and closing it after her.

Shawn finished the rest of his drink, and went back to sleep.

In the house of healing, Farrell slept.

His mind had become uneasy since his injury; no longer did he have the dreams of the figure in the woods, the one that might have been his daughter.

No longer did he constantly hear the words, find me.

Now he dreamt of something else.

Farrell walked through familiar rooms, places he had spent so many years in. It was his old home. Not run down and empty as he had come to know it, but as it used to be. Back in the day.

But something was different. There were so many vases and jars about the rooms that held a dazzling array of brightly coloured flowers. Flowers of every kind that Farrell knew of, and some that he didn't, filled his entire house. He then heard singing coming from the next room, a beautiful angelic voice, sung in a high-pitched melody.

Farrell moved slowly to the next room, towards the voice.

He saw Ramana.

She was gliding about the room as she sang, placing more flowers she held in a bundle, into waiting jars already filled with water.

'They are beautiful' she said back to him as she continued. 'Aren't they?'


came up behind her and took her hand, pulling her gently around so that she turned to face him.

'What are you doing here?' he said. 'You're supposed to be dead.'

Her expression did not change. She drew slowly back, still holding the remaining flowers, her hand slipped from his grasp.

She walked past him, and vanished.

Farrell looked around.

Ramana was gone, along with all the flowers.

Farrell woke. It was still dark in the room around him. It was still dark through the window outside.

He lay there in silence, wondering what time it was.

He lay there in silence, waiting to go back to sleep.

Farrell woke again sometime later, seeing the early morning rays of the rising sun shining faintly through the single window in his room. He heard the gulls cry outside as they soared through the sky and over the sea, and even indoors from where he lay; he could smell the salt in the air.

Farrell heaved himself out of bed and made his way gingerly towards the window. Though it was early, figures were already milling about outside, and he could see the fishermen readying their boats docked at the harbour, preparing to sail away out to the open sea.

Farrell watched the outside world for a long while, recognising two figures that passed his window, walking side by side across the harbour. They were the figures of Shawn and Annabel, walking together close to one another.

He felt a lonely pang in his heart then, thinking of how much he missed Ramana, how much her absence had affected so many. Like a void in his soul that could never be filled again.

He forced himself to turn away from the window. Suddenly he spotted on the mantelpiece near him a miniature statue of the god Filis, the young boy with his six wings and long horns.

Farrell sneered at it, moving back to the bed and lying down again, feeling bored out of his mind. He waited for sleep to come again. Just to pass the time. He would be waiting for several hours. But when he did finally manage to sleep again, he began to dream.

The house had fallen quickly silent; there was not a sound to be heard. Farrell listened carefully, noticing more of the candles being blown out as Ramana crept through the manor, teasing him. Before long, the only light that existed, was that given by the moon, pure white against the dark sky above, frozen in the air in its celestial beauty.

Farrell stepped slowly across the hall, moving carefully to avoid bumping into something. He moved into the next room, taking in what little he could see. Dark shapes, and outline of the furniture.

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