Habondia sat alone in her dimly lit bedroom, the events of the day weighing heavily on her mind. The botanical garden incident replayed in her thoughts like a haunting melody. Some students had thought it was fun to prank the staff by harvesting mandrakes. The piercing scream of plants still echoed in her ears. The image of the Botany professor's shock-stricken face and the blood trickling from her ear refused to fade from her memory.
As she tried to ease the pounding headache that had plagued her since that morning, Habondia's exhaustion crept in. The weariness settled deep into her bones, urging her to seek solace in sleep. With a heavy sigh, she rose from the chair, the weight of the day clinging to her like a suffocating cloak.
After a refreshing shower, she wrapped herself in a towel and lay on the bed, seeking respite from the turmoil within her. The room was silent, save for the soft rustling of fabric as she shifted beneath the covers.
Morning came too soon, bringing with it a nightmare that left her trembling and tear-stained. "Kyle," she whispered the name a bitter echo of loss. The tears slipped down her cheeks, a testament to the pain that gripped her heart.
Unable to bear the confines of her room any longer, she dressed quickly and made her way out into the still-dark morning. The world outside was hushed, a blanket of quiet draped over the sleeping campus as the chill in the air prickled her skin.
With the book she was deciphering clutched tightly in her hand, Habondia navigated the empty corridors, her footsteps echoing in the silence. The rose garden whispered around her, the scent of blossoms mingling with the crisp morning air.
The library loomed ahead, its heavy wooden doors a barrier between her and the outside world. With a steady hand, she unlocked the door and stepped inside. The soft glow of the lights revealed rows of shelves, their contents a treasure trove of knowledge waiting to be explored.
Making her way to her favorite corner, a secluded table nestled amongst the shelves, Habondia found Sophie asleep, her head resting on her arms. The girl stirred at the sound of approaching footsteps, her eyes wide with fear.
"I'm sorry, I fell asleep... Please don't report me," Sophie pleaded, her voice laced with anxiety. Habondia's heart ached at the sight of the girl's distress.
"Don't worry, Sophie. I understand the exhaustion all too well," Habondia reassured her, a ghost of a smile tugging at her lips. "Though I must say, I don't recall ever drooling as gracefully as you do."
“I’m sorry,” Sophie said. A flush of embarrassment colored Sophie's cheeks as she hastily wiped her face clean.
"Will you help me again, like last time?"
Rising from her seat, she hesitated before speaking. Sophie's hopeful gaze met Habondia's.
Habondia nodded, her own troubles momentarily forgotten in the face of Sophie's earnest plea. "Of course," she offered her voice a soothing balm in the quiet library.
With a grateful smile, Sophie excused herself to freshen up, leaving Habondia alone with her thoughts.
Habondia sat in her chair in front of her favorite desk, the same desk she used to use back when she was a student. The air was thick with the scent of aged parchment and dust, a comforting familiarity that enveloped her like a well-worn cloak. She reached into her green bag, the same shade as her dress, and retrieved her notes, fingers tracing the familiar creases and annotations that filled the pages.
As she delved into Naamaah-approved intricate translations, her brow furrowed in concentration, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts and possibilities. The search for clues within the text consumed her, each word a puzzle piece waiting to be deciphered. But frustration gnawed at her, a relentless adversary in her quest for answers.
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Half an hour passed before Sophie returned to the library, her presence a welcome distraction from Habondia's inner turmoil. The girl had changed into a pink blouse and a black skirt. Taking a seat opposite Habondia, Sophie's eyes sparkled as she finished swallowing a piece of pastry before she asked, "What can I help with?"
Habondia's gaze lifted from her notes. "I'm at a loss... I can't seem to see beyond the words on these pages. I'm not even sure where to begin looking."
"What do you hope to discover in this tale?" Sophie's question hung in the air.
Taking a deep breath, Habondia revealed her ultimate goal. "I seek an ancient relic, the Mask of Samel."
Sophie's brows furrowed in thought before she excused herself and disappeared into the depths of the library. Habondia barely registered her departure, her focus returning to the cryptic text before her, each line a riddle begging to be solved.
When Sophie returned, she carried a weathered tome with yellowed pages and a faded blue cover. Flipping through the book with practiced ease, she located a specific passage and presented it to Habondia. "Is this what you're searching for?" Sophie's voice held a note of excitement as she pointed to an illustration of the Mask of Samel—a haunting goat skull with imposing horns and strands of human hair.
"Here they mention several possible places where it's guarded. I read a magazine article a while ago referencing this book," Sophie said.
Habondia's eyes widened with realization as she absorbed the information before her. The pieces of the puzzle began to align in her mind, a newfound clarity guiding her next steps. Retrieving a map of the British Isles from the library's extensive collection, she meticulously plotted points and connected them with precision.
"Scotland?" Habondia asked, a surge of exhilaration coursing through her veins.
“All the points are in the Highlands,” Sophie confirmed.
The mention of a great water source in the text led her to an undeniable conclusion. “Loch Ness."
Discarding other potential locations, Habondia marked the map with a sense of finality. A triumphant smile graced her lips as she connected the dots.
Turning to Sophie, Habondia was overwhelmed with gratitude. “Are you having breakfast with me?”
“Sure,” Sophie jawned.
The morning air carried the faint scent of roses, a fragrance that permeated from the rose garden at the school as the pair strolled back to the dining hall.
The clinking of utensils and the aroma of stewed meat filled the room as Habondia settled at the table. A plate of hearty breakfast awaited her, accompanied by a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. The flavors mingled on her palate, a comforting familiarity.
"Thank you," she expressed her gratitude to Sophie, whose presence brought warmth to the room. Habondia's smile was genuine, a reflection of the appreciation she held for the girl's assistance. Sophie blushed at the compliment, her eyes sparkling with shy gratitude.
After Habondia finished her meal, she made her way to the rose garden.
Sophie trailed behind her, a silent companion in the sea of blooming flowers. Habondia turned to face her, curiosity shining in her gaze. "I’ve been curious. Why do you cling to me that much?" she inquired, her tone gentle yet inquisitive.
Caught off guard, Sophie met Habondia's eyes with a mix of reverence and uncertainty. "I... I enjoy your company," she confessed, her voice soft yet filled with sincerity. "You're different from what you think of yourself."
Seated on a weathered bench, Habondia pulled Sophie into an embrace, a gesture of comfort and understanding. "I've always had a longing for a child, perhaps... a daughter like you," she revealed, a wistful smile gracing her lips.
"Are you married?" she asked. Sophie's question lingered in the air, a delicate thread waiting to be unraveled.
"I... I never found the right person," Habondia's expression faltered at the question, a pang of sadness flickering across her features. The inquiry struck a chord deep within her, reopening old wounds that she had long tried to bury.
"I was once in love," she continued, her gaze drifting to the vibrant flowers surrounding them. "He was older, a few years my senior. He was wiser in ways I could not comprehend at the time." With a wistful sigh, she added, "We used to meet here, in this very garden. But I never found the courage to confess my feelings to him."
A sense of empathy welled up in Sophie as she listened to Habondia's tale. "Please, tell me more," she urged gently, a sympathetic look in her eyes.
Habondia's surprise was evident as she widened her eyes in astonishment. "My love life is rather pathetic. Are you sure you want to hear it?"
Sophie nodded. "I want to understand what happened."
Taking a deep breath, Habondia began to recount her story. "I was just twelve when I first met him. This garden, with its delicate blooms and sweet fragrances, drew me in like a moth to a flame. And he... he felt the same pull of its beauty."