Sunkissed Moonbeams: The Divide

Chapter Three: Dark Path

It has been five years since that day.

Five years since I fell from the sky.

Five years since I washed to shore.

Five years since I witnessed the corruption siege the land.

Five years since I was sent away from Moonacre.

Uncle deemed it necessary to protect my sanity after my traumatic near-death experience and sent me away. I felt enraged, betrayed, and abandoned. Tears of hatred accompanied me on my journey back to London, and they continued for months into the cold embrace of winter.

No matter how many tears I shed, the vision of the moon persisted. In the reflection of those tiny droplets, I saw her rays, her glow, her beauty, always watching me. I was swiftly taken from Ms. Heliotrope; she was almost my second mother; she fought for me, she cared for me, and she loved me. We tried to argue my custody, but despite our efforts, I was abruptly transferred to the strict guardianship of Mme. Varkridge and placed in the Blackwood Institution for Trouble Girls. Ms. Heliotrope became a distant memory, along with my Uncle, the people of the valley and mountains, and the entirety of Moonacre. Mme. Varkridge cared for me now, treating me as cruelly as the other girls. Each time the fire poker was hit against my back or the cane was brought down to my knuckles, I forgot about how sweet life used to be.

Despite the harsh treatment, there was an unexpected silver lining. Under the strict rule of Mme. Varkridge, I discovered my latent potential. Fluent in Latin and dabbling in French, excelling in history, and possessing pinpoint accuracy in geography, I was truly the brilliant woman my mother expected me to become. I used to spend hours gazing at maps, tracing the familiar contours of Moonacre, longing for a gallop through the pastures on Periwinkle. Now I rather retrieve Piqûre de Marseilles and sit in silence with my embroidery. As much as I loathed to admit it, Mme. Varkridge, in her harsh way, brought out the best in me, transforming a wistful 13-year-old into a charming and mostly sane young lady.

However, Blackwood presented its own set of challenges, primarily the nasty girls who revelled in tormenting me. There was a reason why they were in this institution, after all. Unfortunately for me, soon they realized my fear of water, Maria Merryweather the orphan who sees beauty in fire, is the bringer of drought. They taunted me about my night terrors, holding knives against my skin and asking if I could still see the moon's reflection deep within. They forced me to endure the agony of the full moon by pulling back the curtains to watch my anguished screams and cries. They would go so far as to hold me underwater until I passed out, nearly drowning me in tubs of ice-cold water, giggling as I struggled to swipe nonexistent pearls from my clothing

Despite the adversity, I grew stronger, both physically and mentally, though I remained elvish and meek. I spent little time outdoors, watching my skin turn pale, and my hair dark. As I approached adulthood, I noticed mysterious figures skulking through the halls at night. These men would sneak into the dormitories, slipping through windows and scaling walls to rendezvous with the older girls at night. They would be covered with simple plaid shirts and trousers of blacks, browns, reds, and a variety of fabrics of the peasantry districts, coming to fool around with the country's most debauched being cared for at Blackwood Institution. They would venture into the rooms they found interest in, and from behind the walls, I would hear howls and wailing. I covered my ears the best I could, quick to shun drunken men who found their way next to my bed.

On my 18th birthday, Mme. Varkridge summoned me to her office, a place I had visited only once before, the day of my arrival. The room was shrouded in the soft scent of smoke and the crackle of fire, drawing my attention away from the important matter at hand. The dense drapes, mauve chairs, and scattered black candles adorned the wooden mantle, perfectly encompassing the evil undertone of that wicked lady. The atmosphere was thick with anticipation as she began to speak, casting an ominous shadow over the revelation that awaited me.