The Heart Of Zilo

2. Warmth And Banter

The familiar white cottage came into view just as the sun began its slow descent behind the rolling hills, bathing the gardens in warm amber light.

Climbing roses wrapped themselves around the stone walls, their crimson blooms swaying gently in the evening breeze. Every windowsill overflowed with herbs and flowers my grandmother and I had spent years nurturing together, while ivy climbed lazily toward the thatched roof.

The scent of rosemary, thyme, and slow-cooked stew drifted from the open kitchen window.

Home.

It never failed to make my shoulders relax.

Pushing open the little wooden gate, I wandered up the cobbled path, pausing only long enough to admire the lavender bushes lining the walkway before stepping inside.

The familiar warmth of the cottage welcomed me immediately.

Pots simmered gently over the hearth.

Bundles of drying herbs hung from the ceiling beams.

The old grandfather clock in the corner ticked its steady rhythm as golden afternoon light spilled across the wooden floors.

Standing over the stove was the woman who had raised me.

Silver threaded through her dark hair, which was braided neatly down her back, and although the years had softened her features with fine lines, nothing could diminish the warmth in her amber eyes.

She was humming the same lullaby she'd sung to me since I was a little girl.

A smile tugged at my lips.

Without a word, I crossed the room and wrapped my arms around her middle from behind.

"Mama."

She laughed softly.

"Well... there's my little star."

"I missed you."

"You were gone all of four hours."

"Exactly."

She shook her head fondly before turning in my embrace.

"There you are."

Her weathered hands cupped my cheeks as she leaned down to kiss my forehead.

"How was the market?"

"It was wonderful."

"I'm sure Mrs. Elara tried to feed you."

"She succeeded."

"Of course she did."

"And then she tried marrying me off."

My grandmother laughed—a rich, genuine laugh that filled the little cottage.

"Oh?"

"Apparently I'm twenty-one and wasting everyone's time by preferring flowers over handsome young men."

She raised an eyebrow.

"They may have a point."

"Mama!"

"What?" she asked innocently.

"I'd like to enjoy my gardens in peace."

"You can enjoy gardens with a husband."

"I walked right into that one."

"You certainly did."

I sighed dramatically, making her laugh again.

"I brought everything for supper."

I lifted my basket onto the kitchen table before beginning to unpack it.

"Fresh venison, carrots, onions... and Mr. Halden slipped in extra sausages again."

"As he always does."

"And honey."

"Mhm."

"Oh—and Mrs. Elara insisted I take enough bread to feed an army."

"I suppose we'll just have to suffer through it."

"I don't know how we'll manage."

We shared another smile.

My grandmother glanced over the overflowing basket, her practiced eyes taking inventory of everything I'd brought home.

Then, almost as an afterthought, she asked,

"Did Azure bring you another souvenir?"

I paused, smiling to myself.

"He did, actually."

"I thought he might."

Reaching into the basket, I carefully pulled out the small velvet pouch.

"He said it was recovered near the borders of No Man's Land."

"Oh?"

"I've never seen anything quite like it."

I loosened the drawstring and tipped the polished black crystal gently into my palm.

"It has these strange silver wisps inside. Aren't they beautiful?"

My grandmother stepped closer, wiping her hands on her apron before taking the crystal between her fingers.

She turned it once beneath the fading light spilling through the kitchen window.

For a long moment...

She simply looked at it.

Then a small smile touched her lips.

"It certainly is unusual."

"You don't know what it is?"

She handed it back with a gentle shrug.

"I'm afraid not."

There was the faintest pause before she added,

"Still... some things are old enough to carry stories with them."

"I asked Azure."

"And?"

"He said people call it the Crystal of Chaos."

My grandmother chuckled softly.

"People do enjoy giving frightening names to ordinary things."

"So you don't think it'll bring me bad luck?"

She reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

"My sweet girl..."

Her smile was as gentle as ever.

"The only thing capable of bringing chaos into this house..."

She tapped the tip of my nose.

"...is you forgetting to help me peel the potatoes."

I laughed.

"I was hoping you'd forgotten."

"Not a chance."

Still smiling, I slipped the crystal back into its velvet pouch and set it on the windowsill beside a pot of white lilies before rolling up

my sleeves.

Neither of us noticed...

As the evening sun dipped below the horizon...

A faint ribbon of black smoke curled for the briefest moment inside the crystal.

Then vanished.

As though something deep within it...

Had just awakened.

While my grandmother stirred the pot of venison stew, the rich aroma of rosemary, garlic, and fresh herbs filled every corner of the little cottage.

I leaned lazily against the counter, peeling potatoes into a wooden bowl.

A slow grin tugged at my lips.

"So..." I began innocently.

"Mhm?"

"I think you have an admirer."

She continued stirring, utterly unfazed.

"Oh?"

"Mr. Halden seems quite convinced your stew is the finest in all the Sunlands."

I wiggled my eyebrows dramatically.

"I wonder why."

A soft snort escaped her.

"The man enjoys eating."

"I think he enjoys seeing you."

"I've known Halden since before he had half the muscles he struts around with now."

"Which explains why he always 'accidentally' gives us extra meat."

"He gives everyone extra."

I raised an eyebrow.

"Does he?"

"...Perhaps not everyone."

"Aha!"

She shook her head, trying—and failing—to hide the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"You're impossible."

"No, Mama..."

I pointed the potato peeler at her accusingly.

"You're blushing."

"I most certainly am not."

"You absolutely are."

"The fire's warm."

"The fire is on the other side of the kitchen."

"Heat travels."

I laughed, nearly dropping the potato into the bowl.

"You should marry him."

That finally earned me a look.

One that promised retaliation.

"And what," she asked sweetly, "would I do with a husband at my age?"

"You could boss him around."

"I already boss him around."

"Then you're halfway there."

She chuckled, the sound soft and genuine.

"I've had my great love, little star."

The humor in her voice faded into something quieter.

Something touched with memory.

"And I was fortunate enough to have it."

I smiled gently.

Grandfather had passed away long before I was old enough to remember him, yet somehow the cottage still carried pieces of him.

The rocking chair beside the fireplace.

His carved wooden tools hanging neatly on the wall.

The tiny birdhouse he'd built that still welcomed sparrows every spring.

She had never taken them down.

"I still wish I'd known him," I admitted softly.

My grandmother's smile turned wistful.

"You have."

I frowned.

"What do you mean?"

She reached over, brushing a thumb across my cheek.

"Every time you laugh."

My heart squeezed.

"You have his kindness."

She smiled.

"His stubbornness too."

"I am not stubborn."

She gave me a look.

"...You climbed the old willow tree after I expressly told you not to."

"I was ten."

"You insisted the tree 'looked lonely.'"

"It did."

"You brought home an injured fox."

"It was injured."

"You tried to keep a baby griffin in the shed."

"...For three days."

"It ate my herbs."

"It was hungry."

She laughed, shaking her head.

"And that is exactly what your grandfather would have said."

I couldn't help smiling.

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

The only sounds were the gentle bubbling of the stew and the rhythmic scrape of my peeler against the potatoes.

Outside, the evening breeze rustled through the flowerbeds.

Peace settled over the little cottage like a well-loved quilt.

My grandmother broke the silence first.

"So..."

I looked up.

"Have you thought about what Mrs. Elara said?"

I groaned dramatically.

"Mama..."

"I'm only asking."

"You've joined their conspiracy."

"I merely think..."

She stirred the stew thoughtfully.

"...that one day someone will come along who sees you the way the rest of us do."

I smiled sheepishly.

"I don't need someone to complete my life."

"No."

She turned to face me fully, her amber eyes warm.

"You never will."

She crossed the kitchen and gently took my hands in hers.

"But when the right person finds you..."

Her smile softened into something almost... bittersweet.

"...they won't complete you, Aezania."

"They'll simply remind you that even the brightest stars deserve someone to admire their light."

I felt my cheeks warm.

"You've been spending too much time with Mrs. Elara."

"Oh?"

"You've become a romantic."

She laughed.

"I've always been one."

I shook my head with a smile, returning to my potatoes.

Neither of us noticed...

The velvet pouch resting quietly on the windowsill.

Inside...

The black crystal gave another faint pulse.

This time...

It remained oddly warm.