Chapter 118 Being Preyed On

Chapter 118 Being Preyed On
Seraph's POV

The moment I stepped back onto the familiar stone, the village came into view, the fresh sight knocking the air out of my lungs.

My father was already home when I arrived.

The look of neutrality left his face when his eyes found mine. I think his eyes betrayed how relieved he was, but he restrained it, as if emotions were a luxury he didn’t have the right to indulge in. I noticed it immediately—the way his eyes softened for a fraction of a second when they landed on me, then snapped back to discipline.

I didn’t know whether to approach him or just stand where I was. The air between us was clear, taut, and heavy with the unspoken weight of the two years I had missed.

My mother, though… she was different.

The way she looked at me—even though she had already seen me—her eyes soft, vulnerable, almost afraid I might shatter again, made my chest tighten in a way I wasn’t ready to unpack yet.

“Welcome home, Seraph,” he said with conviction and what I suppose was restrained approval, then nodded curtly.

He didn’t look so different. His eyes were still steady, and the hair on his head had streaks of grey. He stood up, then walked toward me while I watched him intently.

He ran his hands down my face, then let one rest on my shoulder, which he squeezed softly.

“Welcome,” he repeated quietly, then released me.

“I only came home because I heard about your return. I still have to be at the council,” he said in his deep voice, turning briefly to my mom, who didn’t look too pleased by his words.

When he looked at me, there was a silent question—asking permission. I nodded slowly.
“Of course, Father. I’ll be right here when you get back,” I said to him, which he answered with a small, tight-lipped smile.

I let him leave first. He excused himself quietly. That left my mother and me alone.

When I turned around, my mom looked up at me with apologetic eyes. I sucked in a breath and grinned, then turned toward the backyard and headed out into the garden.

As I stepped into the warm breeze, I shut the door behind me and looked around. It was a beautiful sight to behold, full of tall cherry blossoms, smelling like paradise.

My heart warmed, and a smile worked its way onto my lips—a genuine one.

“My God,” I breathed. The fact that it wasn’t too large made it more endearing. You could see everything at a glance and get lost in how the sun fed them with its gracious light.

As I walked farther in, toward what I could only describe as a maze of colorful flowers, I couldn’t resist pausing by one of them. The garden smelled alive—untouched, yet cultivated.

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” Mom suddenly appeared beside me.

I nodded, watching the blooms sway gently in the breeze. Their petals shone like little flames in the afternoon light. The softness of the colors contrasted with the hardness I carried inside—four months of Lydian and its cold, dangerous memories settling like stones in my chest. Yet I still remembered its beauty vividly.

She came closer, her hands brushing against the railing as she stopped beside me. Her gaze swept over me slowly, taking in everything—the way my hair was tied back, the set of my shoulders, the faint tension in my fingers.

“Oh… how you’ve grown,” she whispered. “So much stronger. And yet… still my little Seraph.”
I swallowed. I could feel the pulse of the world, the weight of her gaze, the unspoken questions.

I lowered myself onto a bench, and she did the same, her fingers brushing against my hands—a tentative anchor.

We sat in silence for a while, watching everything sway in the breeze and listening to the birds sing.

“Seraph…” she began, hesitating. Then she leaned closer. “I am so proud of you.” She turned to look at me, sincerity shining in her eyes as she smiled softly. “Ever since I can remember… girls have been going missing.”
The words struck me like a shard of glass.
I stiffened. My brow furrowed.

“Really?”

She nodded.

“Whenever it happens, there’s always a long gap before it happens again, so it’s hard to predict. My mother used to caution me and my sisters all the time. Even though it was true, it was hard to believe it would happen to any of us back then,” she told me. I turned to face her.
“How did you know?”

“They… mostly belonged to noble or well-known families,” she continued, her voice trembling slightly. “People with royal blood as well. And I was never that until I married your father,” she explained, and I nodded in understanding.

“I never thought it would still be true… until it happened to you.”

I blinked. The air between us thickened. My thoughts scrambled. Girls… disappearing? And me… I hadn’t just wandered off. I hadn’t chosen to be gone.

“Really?” I asked, my voice small and cautious.
“Yes,” she said softly, pressing her hand against mine. “I should have warned you as my mother warned me. I should have… I am so sorry for failing you, Seraph. For failing you as a mother.”
I exhaled slowly, letting my fingers trace the veins in hers.

“You didn’t fail me…”

“I did.” She paused, then looked me over carefully. “I felt like I was going crazy. And even crazier when I kept insisting that…” She looked up at me. “That you didn’t just wander off until you went missing. I kept insisting something had happened because I know my daughter.
But it sounded crazy. I sounded crazy.”

I stared at her in surprise, opened my mouth to speak, but clamped it shut when she continued.

“You did go missing, and that was it…”

“No, Mom. You’re not crazy. You’re right.”
She raised a brow, and I stared into her deep brown eyes and said the words I had been longing to say—if anyone cared to listen.

“I… I wasn’t just missing,” I said finally, the words trembling at the edges. “I was… taken.”
Her eyes widened, then softened. She reached out to cup my face, her thumb brushing across my cheek.

That made her continue, despite the confusion still lingering in her eyes.

“I could feel it, even when everyone else dismissed it. I knew something had happened to you.”

I nodded, unable to speak for a moment. The words I had carried inside me—the shame, the confusion, the terror—all spilled into silence.

“And you’re right to think that. It seems everyone else has lost their minds. Everything was so bizarre. I wish I could explain, but… it’s very hard to.”

She hugged me tightly, letting me lean into her warmth. When we finally pulled apart, her eyes glistened.

“You can tell me anything,” she whispered. “I don’t care how crazy it sounds… we have all the time in the world. Tell me everything. I’ll listen. I’ll always listen.”

I studied her face—the desperate care in her eyes, the way she looked at me with the same love she once reserved for my sister before her death. I could see the grief she had bottled up for two years, the fear she had swallowed, the questions she had buried. And I understood her better now. She was just afraid to love me and then lose me like Andarna.

I pressed my lips together and exhaled deeply.
Then I told her everything. Every detail. Even about Riko.

When I finished, she sat back slightly, letting tears spill freely.

“I’m so sorry,” she murmured, over and over again.

I shook my head gently. “No… there is nothing to apologize for. You did everything you could. You tried to protect me in your own way. That’s enough.”

She smiled faintly, reaching out to stroke my hair, cupping my cheek. She exhaled through a shaky chuckle.

“This man… do you love him?”
I blinked, surprised by her question. I thought she might ask about Riko or something heavier.

“Mom… there’s no—”

“Tell me,” she said softly, insistently. I hesitated, then shook my head.

“I think so.”

She simply smiled, touching my hair again, holding me as if I were both fragile and infinite.

“You look so much like your sister now… and I know how much her death hurt you. But I couldn’t bear to see it. I felt like I was alone in that grief. I saw how desperately you tried to stay strong… it should have been the other way around.”

Her voice dropped, almost to a whisper. “My child… all I want for you now… is to be happy. I know you’ve sacrificed so much. You’ve carried so much pain. Your father… he was blinded by tradition. But you—you’ve always known courage.” She chuckled softly, shaking her head. “Whatever you choose, my love… do it. Let your heart rule. Live. Be brave. Be free.”
A small warmth spread through me, the first in years that wasn’t laced with fear or tension.

“You know what I mean, don’t you?” she asked, brushing my hair behind my ear.

I nodded slowly.

“Then come inside,” she said with a smile, standing and offering her hand. “We’re going to throw a party in your honor.”

I would have protested if it were any ordinary day, but there was nothing ordinary about this one. So I took her hand and followed her inside.

Then I felt a shiver run down my spine. That familiar tingling sensation—the one I had felt back in the woods—returned. I glanced over my shoulder, half-expecting to see someone. No one was there.

But the feeling lingered. Watching. Waiting.

And I knew, with a certainty that made my blood run cold:
I am indeed being preyed upon.