Longing for a distant past
Artemisia had entered one of the five gardens that surrounded the Silver City, notably the one representing Faros, the brightest moon and the most distant one from Esperia. Perhaps that was why it was the farthest from the hill in the center of the city, where the Temple of Life stood. As soon as she had walked through the garden gate, she had thrown her hood over her shoulders, letting the mild, warm breeze blowing through the trees caress her short red hair with gold tips.
She had not entered that particular garden for a long time, because she had always felt a strange discomfort just passing by. However, after yet another failure, melancholy had pushed her to go there.
She was walking slowly, looking around her — sadness weighing down her heart. The plants
