Taking her time despite the hour, Simara headed towards the main door, put on a black cloak, and closed it tightly under her neck, fastening it with a humble, worn metal hook. Then she left the hut, stepping heavily in the snow as her feet sank into it with a crunch.
She walked briskly along the cobblestone paths, or where they supposed they should be under the snow, towards the city of Snowy Valley, letting her mind wander with each step. She felt clear-headed when the cold wind hit her face and while she saw the vast fields covered in snow and the trees completely stripped of leaves.
Every so often, Viko stuck his head out of the bag and sniffed the cold air, but he hid it again among the wool when the cold air disheveled his black fur, shivering.
It was still daytime when Simara and Viko arrived at the city. The cloudy sky was still clear, and the snow no longer fell but lay accumulated on the stone ground as they approached the enormous open gates of the city entrance. Simara looked up at the wall that opened to the sides of the gates, with the statues of what were once the stone archangels, protectors of the city, broken to the point where only the beginning of their feet could be seen on the bases.
She approached the five royal guards who guarded the entrance and asked those who wanted to enter to identify themselves.
"Alright, who are you?" the guard dressed in the bright blue uniform asked, looking at her with narrowed eyes.
"Simara Novak, from the hut called 'The Nest'. Daughter of Nubia Novak."
"From the hut near 'Serenity Creek'?"
Simara nodded in response to the man's question.
"And what brings you to the city?"
"I want to cross the city to go to the cemetery to visit my mother's grave."
"Taking a shortcut, eh? Go ahead." The man looked at her attentively, then stepped aside slightly and gestured for her to pass. "Sorry about your mother."
Simara simply nodded and headed into the city, with its large stone structures and thatched roofs. People walked in groups through the streets and began to gather in the seedy taverns, with drunkards at the doors. Everyone seemed happy and celebrated the new year, despite the fear.
Every corner had a royal guard in uniform and armed, watching with a severe and steadfast gaze every step people took in front of him.
Simara walked slowly, stroking Viko's soft head and feeling the guards' gazes on her. She walked until she slowed down and stopped next to the small stone wall of a large house, with a shop on the side.
Then Simara looked to her side and remained watching through the window of the home, like a nosy spy.
Inside the house, there was a fairly large family sharing a long, polished wooden table. Elderly people and children conversed and laughed while taking hot drinks and eating sweet and salty things, delicious things that made Simara feel hungry.
She kept watching them, seeing them be happy, and felt like the most unhappy creature in the world, alone and standing in the street, with nothing to celebrate.
"How I wish I were them," Simara thought, with envy and a feeling of injustice.
Suddenly, a white-haired man who was sitting at the table glanced towards the window and caught her spying on that intimate family scene. He got up from the table and closed the window, preventing her from seeing anything else.
With her cheeks warm, Simara continued walking and arrived at the market square. There were many more happy people chatting and shopping at some stalls that tried to sell sweets and gifts to those who still needed to buy something for dinner.
There were people conversing, holding hands, or greeting each other for the new year, while some children played with the snow and ran. The bustle of happiness reigned in that square, with people even singing in small groups to celebrate the new year that had arrived.
Viko stuck his head out of the bag's edge and sniffed the smell of roasted meat that seeped through the air from inside some inns, whose customers were already gathered to celebrate.
Simara walked among the smiling people, feeling a strange heaviness in her heart and a strange coldness throughout her body, despite her warm clothing.
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She saw all those happy people and couldn't understand how they could keep living.
"How many people seem to be happy despite everything? How can they not know that it's the end of the world? They're completely unaware of what happened," Simara thought, standing in the center of the square.
"How can they keep living? How can the New Year's celebration continue? How can the day go on now that my mother is dead? Nobody cares," she thought.
Simara let her bitter thoughts float around her, opening up endless uncertainties. She let all the thorns stuck in her heart bleed, dripping from her eyes to her body. Simara allowed the tears to slide down her hot cheeks, feeling them freeze when the icy wind dried them.
"How can all these people laugh and go on with their lives when my mother is no longer in this world when they murdered her?" she thought, unable to understand.
At that very moment, Simara felt the ancient amethyst brooch pinned deep within her clothing, right on her woolen shirt and under all her clothes, remembering for the first time that she was wearing it. She felt the pulsing from the depths of the amethyst, beating like a second heart and sending waves of heat throughout her body, burning her skin as if it were in direct contact with a pleasant small sun. She felt her energy running through her body, radiating through it and even around her and knew that something was happening.
Simara looked up at the people in front of her and saw her, directly in front of her, several meters away. It was Nubia. Her mother was standing in front of her. She was standing very still, among the people walking, dressed in a completely white habit that even covered her head with a veil that covered her hair and only revealed her face. Her skin was too pale, almost completely white, and she stared directly at Simara with her very open eyes, as if she could see directly into her heart. Everything about her clashed completely with everyone around her because she was surrounded by a supernatural aura, her veil, and extremely pale skin, unlike the clothes and skin of the other cheerful people walking around her, without noticing her presence.
Simara not only knew it was Nubia, she would recognize her even with her eyes closed, but she was also surrounded by a mortal certainty. She could feel with her amethyst that it was Nubia's specter.
Absolute terror ran through Simara and impacted her like thunder against the earth. She began to hyperventilate violently while feeling her hands tremble, and then she ran very fast in the opposite direction of her mother, colliding in her haste with people who cursed her and complained.
Simara decided quickly while running like a soul carried away by the devil. She needed to get to the cemetery faster, she needed to think about what to do with her life, to heal the shock of seeing her mother dead. However, it was contradictory because she also needed to connect with death and, who knew, maybe even make a pact with him.
Simara reached the outskirts of the city quite quickly, leaving through the south gates, opposite the ones she had entered, while hastily responding to the guards that she wanted to go to the Snowy Valley cemetery. She ran, stepping on the snow, slipping and falling sometimes, trying to pull her feet out of the snow while Viko moved inside the bag.
Soon she crossed the entrance of the wrought-iron cemetery gates, which were still open, and walked at a slightly calmer pace among the hundreds of moss-covered tombstones while panting from the run.
She arrived at the stone that read:
Nubia Novak
Beloved mother.
We will never forget you.
1105-1155
Simara stood for a while in front of the new tombstone, which they had paid for with the last of their money from the sales of the week Nubia died. Without thinking much, she took off her black cloak, spread it on the snowy ground in front of the tombstone so that the outer points were against the snow, and sat on it, placing the bag with Viko snuggled up on the cloak.
In the sepulchral silence of the place, Simara could hear Viko giving her a beautiful purr as he curled up and closed his drowsy eyes. She hugged her knees with her arms and looked at the piece of stone, directly at the carved words.
She spent some time like that, in silence, and then closed her eyes, letting the winter wind mess up her loose hair, soaking up the serenity of the place.
After a time that seemed like an eternity, something moved Viko, bringing her back to reality. The little cat came out of the bag, stretched, and climbed up to Simara's lap, purring softly.
Although he didn't say anything, Viko gave Simara a friendly head butt against the chin, which Simara felt as a gesture of support because, of course, Viko was Nubia's, he had lost her too.
She smiled and petted him, then looked straight up at the sky. High above, the thick and dark snow and cold clouds were moving at high speed, driven by the wind. Simara watched them form all sorts of shapes, one covering the other.
Apparently, the clouds were still working the same way and were still moving as always, the snow was still piling up, so Simara understood.
"Of course, everyone is still breathing. The clouds are still in the sky, and even after the snow and winter, the flowers will come out again. Everyone is celebrating the new year, it's not the end of the world. Mom wasn't anyone to all the people in the city, but she was everything to me. She was my home and my safe place. This is the end of my world."
And that certainty made her feel very alone. The certainty that she had nothing to lose was burning her slowly, but suddenly, corrosive anger replaced sadness and loneliness. It replaced them so quickly that Simara almost didn't notice the change in her.
"I'm going to kill you," she spoke to the air with intensity and feeling as if she had King Rigel standing in front of her.
"What do you think, Viko? Are we going to look for him?"
"If you go, I go," the cat replied, watching her.