CHAPTER 7: A THREAD OF TRUTH
1759 Words
In the heart of the Velmire Kingdom, a festival unlike any other stirred the lands into glowing life.
The Celestine Festival, held once a year at the turn of autumn, was a tradition that dated back centuries. It was a celebration of the realm’s founding—a tribute to the unity between the old kingdoms, marked by lanterns floating in the river, fireworks streaking the skies, and grand performances staged in every town plaza. Markets overflowed with rare delicacies, traveling minstrels filled the streets with music, and fire dancers twirled through the night like spirits reborn.
For the students of Velmire Royal Academy, it was one of the few times they were permitted to return home. The school gates would open for three days, and most of the students left with packed bags and excited chatter, eager to experience the festivities outside the academy walls.
But not Belle.
The evening before departure, Belle sat on the edge of her bed, folding the same clothes she always brought home—neatly, precisely, without emotion. Across the room, Lira was practically bouncing with energy.
“I swear I can already hear the flutes from the main street,” Lira giggled, twirling a scarf between her fingers. “We always go early to get good seats near the plaza stage. There’s this dessert stall with honeyed lotus bread that only shows up during Celestine. You have to try it this time.”
Belle smiled faintly. “You say that every year.”
“Because it’s true!” Lira sat beside her. “What about you? Do you guys usually go to the town square?”
Belle paused, hands still over her bag. “Not really.”
Lira tilted her head. “Why not?”
“…It’s complicated.”
Lira blinked, then nodded slowly. “You don’t have to explain.” She bumped her shoulder against Belle’s. “But if you’re up for it, let’s at least try to find each other during the festival, okay? Even just for an hour?”
Belle gave a small nod, not trusting herself to say more. Because while the entire kingdom glittered with excitement, Belle felt nothing but dread.
---
The next morning, the academy courtyard buzzed with life. Students rushed to the waiting carriages and transports, dressed in their festival best. Belle boarded with the twins and her stepmother, seating herself quietly by the window while Clarisse and Genevieve chatted about dresses and fireworks.
As the city unfolded before them, Belle’s heart tightened. She remembered this road—every tree, every bend—and with each landmark, the silence in her chest grew louder.
They arrived before noon. The house looked the same: tall, elegant, too cold for something called home.
Inside, her father stood in the guest salon. He smiled faintly when he saw her.
“You’ve grown thinner,” he commented, studying her face. “Are you eating properly?”
Belle nodded stiffly. “Yes, Father.”
He sighed. “I saw your latest marks. You’re keeping up. That’s good.”
Clarisse and Genevieve entered, squealing as they hugged him. Belle stepped aside. Her stepmother, Celene, handed out wrapped boxes—small festival gifts.
The twins received silk ribbons, sweets, and perfumes.
Belle received a notebook.
“Thank you,” she murmured, bowing slightly.
Celene’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. “You always liked to write, didn’t you?”
They left her soon after, giggling about shopping plans, leaving Belle alone in her old room. She stared at the pale walls, untouched since her mother’s death.
Nothing ever changed here.
---
The sun is setting, the streets glowed like starlight fallen to earth.
Belle found herself wandering the festival alone—her stepmother had gone with the twins, and her father had remained behind at home. The plaza pulsed with drums and flickering lights. Families strolled hand in hand. Children ran with paper lanterns shaped like swans and lions. The air smelled of cinnamon, roasted nuts, and fresh bread.
The sun had just dip behind the spires of Velmire when Belle finally found Lira near the moon fountain.
“Belle!” Lira called, waving both arms. “Over here!”
Belle smiled, genuinely this time, as she rushed toward her friend. “You’re hard to spot in this crowd.”
“You’re late,” Lira said, feigning a pout, then grinned. “Come on! You haven’t even seen the lantern pond yet.”
They wove through the streets together, skirts brushing lantern-lit cobblestones. Every corner of the town glowed with color—streamers hung between buildings, flower petals floated on the wind, and music filled every pause in conversation.
Lira practically dragged Belle to a food stall. “Two lotus breads, please!”
Belle laughed softly. “You really weren’t kidding.”
“I never joke about food.” Lira handed her a warm, golden pastry shaped like a lotus flower. The honey glaze shimmered under the lantern lights. “Careful, it’s sticky.”
Belle took a bite. It was soft, sweet, and delicately spiced. “This is… really good.”
“I told you!”
They ate as they walked, joining a crowd gathered by a fire dancer in the town square. The dancer moved like silk, trailing glowing ribbons that shimmered blue and silver. Children clapped. Teenagers threw petals. Someone handed Belle a lantern with a string tied to a small parchment.
“Write a wish,” Lira whispered. “It’s tradition.”
Belle hesitated. Then, quietly, she wrote: “I wish my family see me. I wish mom is here with me guiding me.”
They sent their lanterns into the sky.
Lira decided to buy drinks for us while we hangout in the bench facing the fountain. But 30 minutes come by and she not coming back. I decided that i will find her but the crowd was thick and fast-moving. I tried to push through, scanning the sea of faces, but in the blink of an eye, i lost sight of everything familiar.
“Lira?” she called.
No answer.
“Lira!”
Still nothing.
i moved toward the edge of the square, heart thudding. Lantern light flashed across her eyes, dazzling and disorienting. The music felt too loud, the bodies too close.
And then—someone stepped into view.
Tall. Dark hair kissed with faint ash. Cold, sharp eyes that scanned the crowd with ease.
Orion Leonhart.
Belle froze.
He looked right at her.
“…You look like you're about to vanish,” he said, stepping closer. His voice, even over the music, sounded quiet—measured.
She blinked. “I—I’m fine.”
He glanced around. “You’re alone.”
“I was with a friend,” Belle answered, straightening. “I lost her in the crowd.”
Orion nodded once. Then, with no warning, he offered his hand. “Come on.”
She frowned. “What?”
“There’s less noise near the glass lake. You shouldn’t be standing here alone.”
“I’ll wait here,” Belle replied, clutching her shawl.
He lowered his hand. “Then I’ll wait with you.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I wasn’t offering.”
The air shifted.
There was no malice in his voice—but no room for argument, either.
So i stood beside him in silence, both watching the river of people move like molten gold through the streets.
Minutes passed. Then Belle glanced sideways. “You didn’t go home?”
He shook his head. “I don’t have a home here.”
my brows drew together, but i didn’t ask further.
After a while, he turned to me.
“You don’t like crowds.”
I hesitated. “They’re… overwhelming.”
“Then why come?”
I smiled thinly. “Sometimes its good to enjoy life.”
Another silence.
Then, Orion said, “Come on. I’ll take you home.”
“No,” i said quickly. “You don’t need to. I’ll be fine, ”
“You just said you don’t like crowds.”
“I can manage.”
Orion tilted his head. “You don’t trust me?”
“…I don’t know you.”
He nodded, as if that was fair.
But in the end, i walked beside him anyway.
I decided to text Lira that i will go home first.
We took a quieter path through the lower market streets. I kept my gaze ahead, acutely aware of the distance between them… and the strange calm he carried. He didn’t speak again, and neither did i.
When we arrived at my doorstep, i paused.
“…Thank you,” i said.
Orion nod at her then he turned and walked away, the shadows swallowing him like smoke.
---
On the third day, the air in the house had dulled. The twins were asleep, their things scattered across the hall. We will be back in the academy by night.
Belle sat quietly in her old room, flipping through the notebook her stepmother had given her. It was blank.
She placed it down and moved to the bookshelf beside her bed—a forgotten collection of old fairy tales and weathered papers.
Behind a stack of books, her hand brushed against something.
A folded envelope, yellowed with age.
She frowned, pulling it free.
The name written on the front was in familiar handwriting.
To my Belle, when she’s old enough to understand.
Her mother’s name was signed at the corner.
Belle’s fingers trembled.
She sat down and slowly opened the letter.
My Belle,
If you’re reading this, it means I never got to say all the things I wanted to say. I decided to do thing that i think for your own good.
There is a truth buried beneath everything I left behind, one I could not tell you when you were young. I loved someone, once, before all this. Not your father. A man named—
Noctharis.
The name burned into her mind.
He was light and thunder. He was my greatest love—and my greatest loss. If you ever hear of that name, know it’s tied to who you truly are.
Forgive me for all the silence, my darling. I only ever wanted you safe.
—Mother.
Belle stared at the page, eyes wide.
The world tilted slightly.
Noctharis?
Who was he?
Why does it seems like i heard it before?
And why did it sound like more than a name?
The shadows that clung to her past… weren’t just born of cruelty or pain.
They hid something deeper.
- Writer
