Moon hesitated at the threshold of the dilapidated house, its creaking boards echoing her inner turmoil. "Do you wanna go in?" Doctor Alex asked awkwardly, his voice low with concern as he stood by her side while she surveyed the worn exterior.
"Yeah, I need to check if my sister left anything behind or if she's still here," Moon replied, her tone a mix of hope and resignation. Deep down, finding her sister could mean a rescue from the orphanage—a small spark of salvation in a bleak existence—but if she wasn't there, Moon knew she'd have no choice but to accept the harsh reality.
Before she could step further, Alex added hesitantly, "Can I come in as well?" His concern was evident in every word. "I don't mind if you do," she answered, and with that, Moon pushed open the creaking door. The interior was dark and heavy with memories, and every step seemed to whisper secrets of a once-loved home now in ruins.
Inside, Alex broke the silence with a wry remark. "You did warn me about this place. I suppose our lives really are worlds apart," he said, hoping for a smile or some sign of recognition. But Moon's mind was elsewhere—focused on the desperate search for her sister.
She moved quickly through the house, noting with dismay that nothing appeared to have been disturbed. Passing the kitchen, she recalled the warm memory of her mother asking if her "metraygeys" were as delicious as ever. Instead, the tray now held rotten metraygeys that exuded a foul stench. Moon covered her nose and pressed on, each room deepening the void left by her sister's absence.
"Are you ignoring me now?" Alex teased gently as she passed a door marked as her room. Inside, everything was intact—no signs of Graclyn's presence. Moon's heart sank. If her sister were here, she would have certainly heard a familiar, commanding voice asking why Moon hadn't responded.
Determined, she approached the old cupboard—the one she'd warned Graclyn never to meddle with. Moon reached inside, hoping to retrieve the small bag of coins she'd diligently saved from working at the bakery. These coins, hidden beneath her clothes, were meant for emergencies—her private lifeline in moments of desperation.
"You really seem to want to go to Taledar, huh?" Alex observed, finally catching up to her with a knowing glance. Moon frowned in surprise. "Why do you say that?" she asked, curious how he had learned of her secret plans.
"You left a whole page about it," he replied, holding up a scrap of paper that detailed her dreams of escape. With a sarcastic laugh, Moon added, "Yeah, I hope my adoptive parents let me go." Alex's soft smile replied, "I think they will."
Her attention returned to the cupboard as she rummaged for the coins. "What are you looking for?" Alex inquired. "Oh, just something to keep with me when I leave," she answered, a faint smile tugging at her lips as her fingers brushed against the familiar rusted bag. When she finally pulled it out, a wave of relief mingled with determination washed over her. The coins were more than currency—they were hope. Hope that she could reclaim her lost family, or at least escape the suffocating confines of the orphanage.
With the bag clutched tightly in her hand, Moon's resolve hardened. "I think this is all I need. No one's here, but I know my sister is out there somewhere," she declared to Alex, her voice both determined and sorrowful. The unspoken possibility that her mother might still be alive shimmered beneath her words.
"Shall we go eat somewhere now?" Alex asked, breaking the silence. Though Moon's stomach churned with hunger—she hadn't had a proper meal in a week, surviving only on herbs Alex had found—she hesitated. The weight of the day was too much. But the thought of nourishment gave her a reason to move. Nodding, she followed him out of the house she was desperate to escape, even if it wasn't in the way she had imagined.
Their journey back was quiet, each step filled with memories and unspoken worries. They stopped at a bustling market where the aroma of roasted chicken offered a brief, comforting distraction from their troubled lives. This simple meal managed to lift Moon's spirits, if only just a bit, as she later lay on a hospital bed, waiting for tomorrow to be her last day in that grim place.
The next morning, as the soft light of dawn seeped through the hospital corridors, a familiar voice broke the silence. "Morning," it said. Moon turned, surprised to see someone she recognized. "It's you," she replied, confused yet intrigued.
The visitor smiled warmly. "I know it's your last day. I may have only spoken to you for a week, but I've seen you for over a month now." The gentle sincerity in his tone made Moon's heart skip a beat—a rare, unexpected flutter in a life filled with sorrow. "I know you're young and alone, so I want to give you something," he continued, offering a small bag filled with more coins than Moon had ever seen.
Moon's eyes widened. "I don't need it—" she began, but the man interrupted, "That's exactly what I expected you to say. And no, I won't take it back."
He explained further, "This is nothing compared to what I receive, so there's no need for excuses." Moon knew that doctors in this world earned enough to make lavish gestures, especially someone who had cured hundreds from the deadly Veylthys plague. Yet, pride and the fear of pity held her back. "I'm grateful for you curing me," she murmured, "but I don't want to be a burden."
Alex's stern yet kind tone softened her resistance. "Still, take it," he insisted. With a reluctant nod, Moon accepted the bag. "Just know, I really do owe you a lot," she admitted, and his gentle chuckle in response only deepened her mixed feelings.
Before long, Alex departed, leaving Moon with his assistant for the day. "I heard today is the last day here, right?" the assistant inquired. "Yeah," Moon sighed, gazing out the window at a dead, leafless tree silhouetted against the cold sky. "I really don't like the idea of going to an orphanage." The assistant, adhering to the local laws in Varkosia that kept children from wandering alone, reminded her, "I know, but you're too young to be out on your own."
As the day dwindled, the sun dipped low, and Moon's thoughts turned to the inevitable night. In the solitude of the hospital corridor, she felt the cold bite of winter in the air. Later, stepping outside, she wrapped her arms around herself for warmth. A wagon screeched to a stop, and someone called her name, a bittersweet reminder that she must wait until she was older to search for her family—and for the sister she desperately missed.
Taking a deep breath, she began walking until a pair of gentle hands enveloped her from behind. The familiar scent of herbs—the only one she ever associated with comfort—filled her senses. "I need to do something before you leave, so please don't freak out," a soft voice whispered. Before she could protest, she felt his body turn hers. Alex. As he leaned in, Moon's eyes closed in anticipation. A tender, hesitant kiss brushed the corner of her mouth—nothing passionate, yet filled with a sweetness she had only ever heard Gracelyn describe in passing.
He pulled away, cheeks flushed, and with a tender uncertainty said, "Take care, alright... love?" Moon was momentarily lost for words, wishing she could have said more than a simple nod. Though she didn't dare look back, she felt his presence lingering behind her as she stepped toward the orphanage—a cold, lonely place that was every bit as cruel as she had imagined.
In the months that followed, Moon's mind often wandered back to that gentle kiss, even as her circumstances worsened. Two months later, she found herself adopted—a prospect that filled her with quiet dread. The season changed; snow began to blanket the ground as if erasing the traces of her past. Four months had passed since she last saw the hospital and Doctor Alexander, yet his memory and the warmth of his kindness and definitely the sweet kiss continued to haunt her.
One evening, as she overheard her adoptive parents discussing TSE—a mysterious program linked to an ongoing war—Moon's resolve hardened. She knew she could not allow herself to be drafted into a battle that promised nothing but death. With the coins she had painstakingly saved, both from the bakery and the generous gift from Alex, Moon made a silent vow. That night, beneath a sky heavy with the promise of change, she planned to board a boat—a final, desperate bid to reclaim her family and her future.
The journey ahead was uncertain, but with each coin clutched in her hand, Moon carried a fragile hope—a hope that one day, she might find the pieces of her past and, with them, a path to a brighter future.