CHAPTER 21: SOPHIA'S SECRET PLACE

The morning was unusually quiet, a rare moment of stillness on the farm. It was the kind of morning that made you want to pause, to breathe in the cool air and let the warmth of the early sun chase away the troubles of yesterday.

I had resigned myself to another day of hard labor when Sophia appeared at the barn door, a mischievous glint in her eyes and a small bundle in her hands. "You’ve been moping around too long, Ragan," she said, her voice light but firm. "Come on, I’ve got something to show you. You’ve earned a morning off."

"A morning off?" I raised an eyebrow, caught off guard by the offer. It wasn’t like there was ever much time to relax on the farm, and the somber mood everyone had been in since Jacob’s passing. "And what exactly do you have planned?"

Sophia smiled and tossed the bundle to me. It was a neatly wrapped cloth, heavy and warm in my hands. "I made you something. Thought it might cheer you up." Her cheeks flushed a little, as though the gesture embarrassed her.

Unwrapping the cloth, I found a finely woven scarf inside, its colors matching the vibrant greens and earthy browns of the forest that bordered the farm. The craftsmanship was remarkable, better than I’d ever expected. "Sophia, this is…"

"It’s nothing," she interrupted, brushing her hands on her dress. "I’ve been working on it for a while. I just thought you could use it. I noticed you looked a bit cold."

The warmth of the scarf was nothing compared to the warmth of the gesture. I smiled at her, feeling lighter than I had in days. "Thank you, Sophia. I’ll wear it with pride. Where are we headed?"

Her eyes sparkled with excitement. "You’ll see when we get there, come on."

I followed her out of the barn and into the woods, the tension of the past few spans slowly easing with each step. Sophia led the way, her movements quick and confident as she navigated the forest paths. The sunlight filtered through the trees, casting dappled shadows on the ground, and I let myself relax.

As we walked, Sophia talked about the farm, about her worries for its future. " I know Da won’t say it, but I can tell he’s stressed. He hides it well, but I’ve heard him and Mum talking late at night. They’re worried about making ends meet, especially with the collections coming up." Her voice faltered slightly as she glanced at me.

I frowned, the guilt creeping back in. It was a growing concern at the farm, producing enough for collections I didn’t help provoking the enforcers. "I’m sorry. I won’t…"

She stopped walking and turned to face me, her hand resting lightly on my arm. "It’s not your fault, Ragan. It’s them, the enforcers, the Veilguard, the entire ministry.” Her head dropped. “I miss Jacob… but we have you”

Her faith in me was both a comfort and a burden. In her eyes, I was becoming a replacement for Jacob, someone she thought could protect the farm, protect her from the enforcers. It pulled at my heart, forming a lump in my throat.

I hadn’t planned to come to this farm. Circumstances had led me here and now I felt like I had a responsibility over the people here, people I called friends. I gave Sophia a wide, friendly grin, trying to reassure her that everything was going to be fine.

We continued through the forest in silence for a while, the sound of birds singing overhead filling the space between us. Eventually, Sophia led me to a small, secluded glen hidden deep within the woods. It was beautiful, almost otherworldly, with soft grass underfoot and a small stream that trickled quietly through the trees. The sun bathed the clearing in a golden light, making the leaves shimmer with an almost magical quality.

"This is it," she said, her voice soft. "My secret place. I’ve been coming here since I was a child. It’s where I come, when I need to think. You're the first person I have ever shared this place with."

I could see why. The glen felt untouched by the world, a place where time seemed to stand still. "It’s beautiful," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

Sophia sat down by the stream, gesturing for me to join her. The light danced on the surface of the water, casting shimmering reflections on the grass. As we sat there, side by side, she pointed out the different plants growing along the edge of the clearing, her fingers brushing gently against the leaves. Her voice softened, as if we were sharing a quiet secret hidden away from the world.

"These herbs," she said, pointing to a patch of dark green leaves with jagged edges, "are called Velora. Mum says they're good for healing cuts and bruises. You crush the leaves and mix them with a bit of water to make a paste. Works wonders on scrapes. And those flowers over there?" She nodded toward a cluster of tiny white blossoms. "That's Feylan bloom, It's used for fevers. You steep the petals in hot water, let it cool, and drink it, like a tea. My brother Reece used to get sick every winter, and Mum would always make it for him."

I listened closely, impressed by how much she knew. She seemed so in tune with the natural world, so at peace in this hidden corner of the woods. Like all the troubles back at the far disappeared here.

"That plant there," she continued, pointing to a small, creeping vine with yellow-tipped leaves, "is Shadevine. Mum always told me never to touch it. Something about it being poisonous, though I don’t know the details."

I looked closely at the vine and felt a chill of recognition. "Shadevine," I muttered under my breath. "No wonder your parents warned you. In some places, people call it 'Briar’s Curse.' The sap can be used as a narcotic. In my time, I saw men get addicted to it. At first, they said it eased their pain, but before long, they couldn’t live without it. They’d rub the sap into their skin, and it would give them vivid dreams—but it also drained them, left them hollow. I’ve seen men waste away because of it."

Sophia’s eyes widened in shock. "I didn’t know. Mum just told me it was bad, but she never said why. I’m glad I’ve never touched it."

"Best to stay far away from it," I agreed, my voice dark with the memories of what I had seen.

To change the subject, I gestured toward a large, reddish bush with thick leaves. "That’s Bloodthorn," I said, smiling faintly. "You can crush the thorns to make a salve for burns, but don’t get too close to the flowers. They attract Siltwasps, and trust me, you do not want to get stung by one of those."

Sophia chuckled softly. "I’ll take your word for it."

In return for her wisdom about the local flora, I shared some of the survival skills I’d picked up over the years—skills that had kept me alive long before I ever arrived at the farm. "You know," I began, "if you're ever stranded in the wild, finding clean water is key. The best place to look is at the base of a mountain or where streams collect in natural basins. If you’re desperate, you can filter water through layers of sand and cloth to get the worst of the grime out."

Sophia nodded, her face lighting up with interest. "And what about food? What if you can’t hunt?"

I smirked. "You can eat a lot more than you think. Edible roots, nuts, even some types of bark will keep you alive. And if you’re ever in a pinch, you can boil water with certain stones to draw out minerals. You wouldn’t believe the things people overlook in the wild."

She leaned in closer, her eyes gleaming with curiosity. "And what about animals? Anything you should avoid?"

I thought for a moment, then pointed to the stream. "If you ever come across a Bilbear—"

"A Bilbear?" she interrupted, laughing. "Those things are real? I thought they were just stories!"

"Oh, they’re real," I said, grinning. "But they’re not as dangerous as the stories make them out to be. They’re huge, sure, but they’ll avoid you if you’re loud enough. The problem is when they jump into the water. They can submerge and stay under for ages, masking their scent. You could walk right by one and never know it was there."

Sophia stared at me wide-eyed, then burst out laughing. "If I ever see a Bilbear, I’m running the other way, not hanging around to watch it hide in the water!"

I laughed with her, feeling a lightness I hadn’t felt in years. It was moments like this, moments of shared laughter and warmth, that reminded me life didn’t have to be a constant struggle. There was still joy to be found, even in the small things.

As we continued to talk, the morning drifted on. The sun, climbing higher in the sky. I felt an unfamiliar sense of peace as I sat there with Sophia, learning from her and sharing what I knew in return. There were no expectations here, no burdens, just two people enjoying the simplicity of the moment. Yet, there was something else, something unspoken, lingering in the air.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a small, withered plant at the edge of the clearing suddenly begin to bloom, its pale petals unfurling in the sunlight. Sophia saw it too, her gaze narrowing in suspicion for just a moment, though she said nothing.

I looked away, pretending not to notice. Had I inadvertently tapped into some unknown part of me, made the flower bloom? Maybe Sophia would just chalk it off to a trick of the shifting light as the clouds passed the sun. Deep down, though, I knew my secret would be harder to keep the longer I stayed.

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Still, for now, it was enough to sit here, by the stream, surrounded by the beauty of the world, and let myself forget about everything else—if only for a little while.

As we headed back to the farm, I found myself thinking about the future, about what I could do to help. If I couldn’t directly challenge the Vielgaurd there must be something else I could do.

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The morning sun filtered through the thin clouds, casting long shadows across the farm as I made my way toward the wheat fields. The harvest had been coming along well, and with Ged’s steady guidance, I’d found myself taking on more responsibilities. It wasn’t the most exciting work, but it was fulfilling in its own way. With each completed task, I felt more a part of this family, this life.

Reece, on the other hand, had grown increasingly distant and resentful. Every time Ged praised me or Sophia showed kindness, I saw it in Reece’s eyes—the flare of jealousy, the tight set of his jaw. I wasn’t blind to it, but I had made a promise to myself to stay calm. I wasn’t going to be the one to give Reece an excuse to act out.

Today, we were to start threshing the wheat—hard, tedious work, but necessary. I could see Ged in the distance, already making preparations near the barn. Reece, as usual, lagged behind, dragging his feet and muttering under his breath.

“Good morning,” I greeted him as he trudged up to the field, but all I got in return was a sneer.

“Don’t think for a second you’re Ged’s favorite just because you know how to swing a stick,” Reece muttered. "Some of us have been doing this since birth."

I ignored the barb, turning my attention to the rows of wheat swaying gently in the breeze. It would be a long day, and there was no point in wasting energy on arguments. Reece, however, wasn’t done.

"What's the matter, Rags?" Reece mocked, using the name he knew I hated. "Too soft to handle farm work? I see you, panting and wheezing, with hardly any work completed. I’m surprised Ged still lets you stick around."

My hands clenched around the scythe, but I forced myself to keep calm. I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. Instead, I got to work, cutting down the golden stalks with practiced swings, the rhythm steady and sure.

That’s when I noticed Reece acting oddly, his movements rushed and careless. He wasn’t harvesting the wheat properly—he was swinging wide, missing half the stalks, trampling some of the good wheat underfoot. And he was doing it on purpose. I saw it in the way his lips curled into a smug grin, the satisfaction in his eyes as he cast a quick glance toward me.

“Reece, stop,” I said firmly, dropping my scythe and marching over. "You’re ruining the crop."

He turned to face me, a look of defiance in his eyes. "Oh I am? No Rags, you think you know everything. People just can’t see it yet, Rags.”

“This isn’t about me, it’s about the farm,” I said, trying to stay calm. "You’re wasting our time and ruining the harvest."

“Maybe that’s the point,” Reece sneered, leaning in. "Maybe I’m tired of you walking around here like you belong. You don’t. You’re just some stray Ged took in, and don’t think for a second that makes you one of us."

The urge to retaliate surged through me. I could feel the familiar warmth in my chest, the temptation to let my magic flare and put Reece in his place. It would have been so easy—just a flicker of power, and I could wipe that smirk off his face. But I resisted. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

Before I could respond, Ged’s voice cut through the tension like a knife.

“What’s going on here?” he called, walking over with a furrowed brow.

Reece was quick to turn the situation to his advantage. "It’s Ragan, Da. He’s been messing with the tools. I couldn’t even get the scythe to cut right, it…"

I opened my mouth to protest, but Ged held up a hand, his eyes moving between us. “That’s enough. I don’t care who’s to blame. We need this work done, and we need it done right. Both of you, get back to it—together.”

I saw Reece’s smug expression as Ged turned his back, heading back toward the barn. He’d gotten away with it again, and I was the one left to pick up the pieces. But I kept quiet, determined not to let him win this small battle.

Reece, though, wasn’t done.

As we worked, he continued his taunts, his voice a low hiss so Ged wouldn’t hear. "You think you’re so special, don’t you? Always so quiet, always doing what you’re told. But you’re nothing. You’re not family, and you never will be."

I gritted my teeth, my fists tightening around the handle of the scythe. I could feel my patience fraying, the anger simmering beneath the surface. But I knew what Reece wanted—he wanted me to snap, to lash out so he could claim victory.

Sophia appeared then, her presence like a balm against the growing tension. She approached with a soft smile, oblivious to the brewing storm. “How’s it going out here?” she asked, her voice light.

“Just fine,” I lied, not trusting myself to say more.

Reece snorted. “Rags here thinks he’s some kind of hero, always trying to tell me what to do. He never makes a mistake, always so right”

Sophia frowned, stepping between us, her gaze locking onto Reece. "Reece, stop. You’ve been on edge, for spans now. We’re all trying our best here. Let it go."

Her words disarmed him, for the moment at least. Reece looked away, muttering under his breath, but the venom in his voice hadn’t lessened. I exhaled quietly, thankful for her intervention.

The rest of the day passed in relative silence, but the damage was done. Reece’s resentment had only grown, festering in the quiet moments when no one was looking. And though I had managed to keep my anger in check, I could feel it still burning beneath the surface.

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No one spoke much around the dinner table that evening. The warmth from the hearth and the scent of the hearty stew did little to ease the tension hanging in the air. The clatter of cutlery on wooden bowls was the only sound, and even that seemed muted, as if the day’s labor had stolen not just our energy but our voices. Ged ate in silence, his brow furrowed from the long day's work, while Reece sat across from me, his jaw clenched, eyes fixed on his plate as if it had personally wronged him.

The fire crackled, casting a soft orange glow around the room, but even that felt cold in comparison to the simmering resentment between Reece and me. I could feel his anger, thick and unspoken, like smoke filling the entire room.

Just as the silence seemed unbearable, Ros spoke up, her voice cutting through the tension like a cool breeze after a stifling day.

“I think, my darling, you can have the night off,” she said, smiling gently at Ged. “You’ve been at it straight for over a span now, and you’ve earned a little rest.”

Ged grunted in agreement but didn’t lift his eyes from the meal.

“Ragan, Sophia,” Ros continued, turning her attention to us, “why don’t you two go check on the fields after supper? Make sure everything's in order for the morning.”

Her suggestion was light, meant to break the heavy atmosphere, but it didn’t go unnoticed that she hadn’t asked Reece. I glanced at him, expecting another flare-up, but he remained silent.

Sophia met my eyes across the table and gave me a small, reassuring smile. The tension eased a fraction, but it still lingered, unspoken, in the corners of the room, waiting for the right moment to rise again.

The moon hung high above the horizon, its soft glow spilling across the fields as if the heavens had painted the land in silver. The cool night air felt fresh, a contrast to the thick tension from the evening meal. Sophia and I had saddled up after supper, riding out to check the outer fields as Ros had suggested. The horses’ hooves made a soft, rhythmic beat against the dirt path, a soothing sound that helped ease the tension I’d carried all evening.

“This feels like the first time I’ve been able to breathe all day,” Sophia said, breaking the comfortable silence between us. She looked up at the sky, her hair catching the moonlight, giving her an almost ethereal glow.

“Yeah,” I agreed, keeping my eyes ahead. “It’s good to get away from all that.”

She glanced at me from the side, her expression thoughtful. “You know, you’ve been here for nearly for what feels like ever, and I still feel like I hardly know you, Ragan.”

The way she said it was soft, but there was an edge of curiosity that hadn’t been there before. I could feel her gaze lingering on me, searching for something more. I kept my eyes on the trail, not wanting to meet hers.

“I’m not that complicated,” I said, offering a small smile, trying to deflect. “Just another farmhand now.”

“You don’t act like just another farmhand,” Sophia replied, her voice growing more curious. “You’re different. You see things, and sometimes... I don’t know. It’s like you’re holding back.”

Her words hung in the air, making my chest tighten. I didn’t want to lie to her, but there were things she couldn’t know. Things no one should know.

I reached out to swat away a small cloud of fireflies hovering nearby, but instead of waving them off, I cupped one in my hand. It glowed softly, trapped in the space between my fingers. Sophia slowed her horse to watch me.

“How’d you do that?” she asked, her tone light but probing.

I chuckled nervously. “It’s just a firefly. Nothing special.” I opened my hand, letting the tiny creature fly free, its light flickering against the darkened sky. “They’re easy to catch if you move slow enough.”

Sophia’s eyes lingered on me, as though she were trying to see past my words, past the mask I wore. “You’re always so careful, Ragan,” she said quietly. “Like you’re afraid to let anyone see the real you.”

I shifted in my saddle, uncomfortable under her gaze. “There’s not much to see,” I said, trying to laugh it off. “Just a guy doing what he can to help.”

Her lips quivered into a half-smile, but I could tell she wasn’t convinced. She didn’t press further, though, and for that, I was grateful.

We rode on in silence for a while, the night wrapping around us like a blanket. The fields stretched out on either side, their edges blending into the dark forest beyond. The only sounds were the soft crunch of hooves and the occasional whisper of the wind.

And then it happened—suddenly, without warning. Something darted out from the shadows of the trees. The horses reared up in panic, their eyes wide with fear. Sophia’s horse bolted to the side, and before she could gain control, she was thrown from the saddle. I barely had time to react before my own horse bucked wildly, sending me tumbling to the ground.

My instincts flared to life, and for a split second, I reached for the magic inside me, a reflex born from years of survival. I could feel it surge, tingling beneath my skin, begging to be used. But I stopped myself just in time, pulling my hand back as if I had touched a flame.

I hit the ground hard, the wind knocked from my lungs. The horse bolted into the night, disappearing down the road.

“Sophia!” I scrambled to my feet, panic rising in my chest.

“I’m fine!” she called out, already sitting up, brushing dirt off her dress with a sheepish grin. “I think I just bruised my pride.”

I laughed, more out of relief than anything else. “Looks like we’re both a little worse for wear.”

She smiled, shaking her head as she stood. “I swear, if that was a wild boar or something, I’m never going near these woods at night again.”

The tension from the fall faded into laughter, but beneath the surface, I couldn’t shake the lingering weight of what almost happened. I had nearly used magic—nearly revealed everything.

As we walked the horses back to the farm, I found myself stealing glances at Sophia, wondering how much longer I could keep this part of myself hidden. But for now, we shared a quiet understanding, a bond that was growing stronger with each passing day.

Yet, even as we joked and teased each other about the fall, I couldn’t ignore the voice in the back of my mind. How much longer could I keep hiding who I really was? And when the time came, would Sophia be the one to understand? Or would this secret tear us apart?

The moonlight continued to guide our way back, but the shadows seemed just a little darker now, and the night a little colder.