Chapter Text
The carriage wheels cut through the road like they were slicing time itself.
Rishe sat perfectly still, hands folded in her lap, eyes fixed on the blur of land outside the window. Obelia’s borders were close now—too close. She could feel it in her chest, that old, suffocating pressure she hadn’t felt since she was eight. The air itself felt heavier, like the land remembered her even if the people didn’t.
Arnold sat across from her, posture relaxed, expression unreadable. Too unreadable.
“You’ve been quiet,” he said at last, voice calm, measured. Not accusing. Just observant.
She didn’t answer. Silence had always been her armour. But words didn’t find their way to her mouth.
“Is there something bothering you?” He pressed on her again, trying to break her armour.
And this time, she allowed it to crack.
“…I need to tell you something,” she said.
Arnold’s gaze sharpened—not alarmed, not impatient. Focused.
“I…. was born in Obelia,” Rishe continued, her voice steady despite the storm inside her. “Not Hermity. I lived here for eight years. Then I was… sent away.”
Sent away. Such a gentle phrase for abandonment.
The carriage seemed to slow, like the world itself was listening.
Arnold didn’t interrupt. Didn’t react. He simply waited.
“My family is here,” she added. “Including my brother.. I don't know much about him but, I guess you'll meet him soon.”
She finally looked at him then—bracing for shock, anger, questions.
None came.
Arnold nodded once. “Alright.”
That was it.
No interrogation. No demand for explanations. No doubt in his eyes.
Her breath hitched before she could stop it.
“You’re… not surprised?” she asked quietly.
“I am,” he said honestly. “But you’re telling me now. That’s enough.”
Something loosened in her chest—just a little.
The carriage rolled forward, crossing the invisible line into Obelia.
Rishe didn’t know if she was returning home…
or stepping back into the place that taught her how to disappear.
But this time, she wasn’t alone.