Cerva could be wrong in the way she is seeing everything. Magnus isn’t a lover; he’s more of an acquaintance than anything, but he had been the first face she saw upon entering the Gates. It had been him that helped to plant a seed in her heart for the kingdom because of his passion for it. There was an unwavering love in his voice and so Cerva thought she may have found her first staple in life. No one has ever stayed with her.
Mother left.
Father had other women, other children.
Her brothers disappeared.
She has no one, nothing, and so the fabricated relationship she was building with Magnus was leading into an immediate comfort. They met. They laughed. They talked. It was all she needed to settle her uncertainties and create a sense of security. The others – Longear and Camelia – she had only met on the border and exchanged hellos before the world ripped itself apart. Zeik she hasn’t seen. Cerva fell asleep and awoke to her worst fears. She didn’t want to be alone again, but she was.
Perhaps it’s the residual fear thrumming inside her that is icing over her voice and coating her steely gaze. I’m not alone anymore, she tells herself, but even then, the memory of everyone leaving and Beqanna devouring itself stabs into her and she flinches again. She has scrapes from debris, but it isn’t drastic; they have all clotted and are all healing well without hardly any notice. Cerva, in all her worry for others, never took it to mind about her own well-being. Even now she doesn’t as her eyes flash between the two males while deciding where and what she should be doing. Her heart trains her eyes too look in the direction of where the Gates had been, but her conscious reminds her that it isn’t there, nor will it ever be again. This meadow is her – their – home and she casts her gaze back down on Devov as she tries to contemplate his future. He can’t stay here.
Magnus is speaking to Devov now and Cerva intently listens even if her eyes elude the confusion of Magnus’ stare. The remaining softness of his voice falters the rigidity she has adopted. In truth, she doesn’t have the strength to uphold such a cold façade to anyone, but she tries in spite of her nature. ”You moved on quickly,” she meekly whispers, ignoring his compliment of her as a mother (she heard it and she felt it rattle her heart). It’s all he could do, she tries to convince herself, because they all must survive. Each and every one of them had to restart their lives and try their best to flourish and to protect their families. Magnus isn’t in the wrong at all, but Cerva can’t let go of how alone – how abandoned – she had felt until Devov found her. She regards the boy fondly before finally allowing her nutmeg eyes to search Magnus’ curious stare. ”You smell like my father,” it hits her like a wall, slamming into her consciousness. And suddenly she’s torn again.
Father left her too.
Cerva