September arrived with a sharp chill in the air and the first scatter of falling leaves. The gardens had taken on the colors of autumn. The roses had lost most of their petals, leaving deep red and bruised pink scattered across the dark, damp soil.
The trees along the edge of the lawn seemed caught between summer and autumn. Their upper branches had turned a brittle gold, while the leaves closer to their trunks stubbornly remained green. The sun now hung lower in the sky, casting longer shadows across the grass and softer light over the manor's stone walls.
Morwenna stood by the nursery window, watching a single leaf spiral down from the highest branch of an oak tree. A sudden gust caught it and carried it out of sight.
She had been standing there for five minutes. A quiet sense of relief settled over her when she realized her legs were no longer trembling. Strength was slowly returning to her small body, little by little, keeping pace with the changing season.
Behind her, Jane folded a knitted blanket and placed it on a chair.
"Are you ready?" she asked.
Morwenna turned toward her mother. The green velvet snake lay on the bed, while Cinder sat faithfully at her feet, his amber eyes following her every movement.
"Ready for what?"
"Therapy," Jane replied. "Your exercises. We will do them just as we did after your first bath."
Morwenna remembered the routine well. She recalled the long, exhausting walks down the corridor and the stretching exercises that left her muscles aching. She also remembered the frustration of having a body that refused to do what she wanted.
After a moment, she gave a small nod.
Their first session took place in the morning room. Jane had pushed the furniture against the walls and rolled up the rug, leaving the cold stone floor exposed.
Morwenna stood in the middle of the room with bare feet and her arms hanging at her sides. Jane stood a few meters away.
"Walk to me."
Morwenna began moving. Her legs were stiff, and her steps were short. Her toes curled against the cold stone with every movement, but she managed to reach her mother without stumbling.
"Good," Jane said. "Now walk back to the window."
Morwenna turned and made her way toward the glass. The autumn sunlight fell across her face, making her blink against its brightness.
Jane had her repeat the exercise several times. Gradually, Morwenna's legs loosened, and her steps became a little longer. After ten minutes, Jane finally told her to stop.
Morwenna immediately sat down on the floor. Her legs were trembling from the effort.
"Your first bath took a month of recovery," Jane reminded her as she knelt beside her daughter. "This will take time too. Perhaps another month."
Morwenna looked down at her hands. They remained steady even though her legs were still weak.
"Why are my legs so weak?"
"Because you have been lying in bed for months. Your muscles haven't been used properly, so they have grown weak."
Morwenna considered this.
Her muscles had forgotten how to work, just as her memories had become tangled and her soul had been torn apart. So many things had been lost, yet somehow, given enough time, they were slowly finding their way back.
She placed her hands on the floor and pushed herself upright, her jaw set with determination.
"Again."
. . .
The days gradually settled into a steady routine.
Mornings were reserved for walking. Morwenna first paced the length of the morning room, then moved on to the corridor and eventually the entrance hall. Each day, she managed to go a little farther, and her legs grew stronger with every attempt.
Afternoons were devoted to stretching. Jane showed her the same exercises Saoirse had taught her the previous year at the farm.
Morwenna completed them all without complaint. Her body seemed to remember the movements, even while her mind was still trying to sort through the memories of two different lives.
Evenings were quieter. Jack never pressured her with questions or expected her to answer. He simply sat nearby and read in the same low, steady voice she remembered from when she was very little.
She was still little, of course, but she rarely felt that way. Her mind carried an exhaustion that seemed to belong to someone who had lived for decades.
Sometimes, she would instinctively reach for a kettle that wasn't there or stretch her arms as though she were lying in the narrow bed of her old apartment. Then she would look down at her small, pale hands and remember that she was no longer that woman. Her body could only manage a few minutes of activity before tiring, no matter how much her mind wanted to do.
As the weeks passed, Roxane began taking charge of her physical therapy. She had been observing Morwenna's recovery since she first woke, paying close attention to the weakness in her legs and the way her balance sometimes faltered.
"These exercises aren't enough," Roxane eventually declared. "She has been lying still for three months. Her muscles have forgotten how to support her properly. We need to help them regain their strength."
She brought several small vials made of dark glass, each sealed with black wax. The liquid inside was thick and pale green. It smelled strongly of mint, mixed with an earthy scent Morwenna couldn't quite identify.
"Drink this every morning," Roxane instructed. "It will help your muscles recover."
Morwenna drank it without complaint. The potion was cold and slightly thick, leaving a taste of grass and rain in her mouth.
Nothing seemed to change on the first day. By the second, however, her legs no longer shook after walking to the window. On the third day, she managed to walk the entire length of the corridor without stopping.
Roxane watched her finish before giving a small nod.
"Again."
Nicholas continued visiting the nursery every evening. He rarely said much, usually taking his familiar chair by the window and quietly observing her. Sometimes, he would place his hands near her head, letting his fingers hover above her temples as he closed his eyes.
On September 5, he finally spoke about her condition.
"Your soul is settling. The two parts are gradually learning to work together. It will take time, but they are no longer fighting against each other."
Morwenna looked at him. Her eyes were the same LeFay green as Jane's.
"The other life," she said. "The woman in the apartment. Is she still there?"
Nicholas remained quiet for a moment before answering.
"She is part of you now. She won't disappear, but neither will she remain separate forever. Eventually, the distinction between the two of you will become less clear. You won't be able to tell where one ends and the other begins."
Morwenna lowered her gaze to her small, pale hands.
"I don't know if I want to lose her."
"You won't lose her. You will become her, and she will become you. That's part of healing."
Nicholas stood and gathered his things.
"Get some rest. Tomorrow, you will walk a little farther."
. . .
As Morwenna grew stronger, Roxane gradually added more exercises to her routine.
She had to stand on one leg, then the other, with both arms stretched out to help her keep her balance. She wobbled several times but never fell.
Then came the stairs.
At first, she only managed three steps. After that, five. Eventually, she could climb the entire staircase with one hand holding the railing and Jane following closely behind her.
She even began running, though only for short distances between the nursery door and the window.
Nicholas continued his evening visits, usually taking the same chair by the window.
On September 15, he watched the autumn rain streak the glass for a while before speaking.
"The other life," he said. "Do you remember how it ended?"
Morwenna lowered her hands.
The memory felt like a film she had watched a long time ago, something distant that she could no longer fully recall.
"I was in my apartment. I was reading. Then I wasn't."
"You died."
"Maybe."
"Do you remember what caused your death?"
The memory returned in fragments. A white ceiling. Her breathing growing slower. Then a sudden, weightless silence.
"No. I just fell."
Nicholas nodded thoughtfully.
"That's common. The soul doesn't always retain memories of the exact moment of death. It may remember what happened before and what came afterward, but the moment itself is often missing."
He stood and walked toward the door.
"Rest well. Tomorrow, you will run a little farther."
. . .
By the time most of the leaves had fallen, Morwenna could run the length of the entrance hall.
The fountain murmured in the center of the hall, while the portraits watched her progress with growing interest. She reached the front door and stopped, breathing heavily. Her legs burned from the effort, but she had made it all the way without stopping.
Roxane stood at the other end of the hall.
"Again."
Morwenna turned around and ran back.
October arrived with cold rain that streaked the windows and left the gardens almost bare. Morwenna stood by the glass, watching the steady downpour. Her legs could now support her without trembling, and her arms no longer ached after the exercises.
She was getting close to the condition she had been in before the ritual, even if she knew she would never be exactly the same again.
That afternoon, Roxane came to the nursery and stood in the doorway with her arms crossed.
"Your body has recovered. The rest will take time."
Morwenna turned toward her.
"Thank you."
Roxane gave a small nod, and her usually stern expression softened.
Nicholas visited that evening and took his usual seat by the window.
"Your soul is stable now," he told her. "The two parts have integrated. You may still experience memories or feelings from your other life, but they won't overwhelm you anymore."
Morwenna sat on the edge of her bed.
"Will I remember everything?"
Nicholas shook his head.
"No. Some memories will fade, while others will remain. There's no way to choose which ones you keep."
"I want to remember her."
"Then you will remember her," he assured her.
He stood and adjusted his travelling robes.
"I will be leaving tomorrow. Roxane will be coming with me."
Morwenna looked up at him.
"Thank you."
Nicholas nodded before leaving the room.
. . .
The following morning, the entrance hall was crowded as the family gathered to see them off.
Aldric, Seraphina, and Saoirse stood near the fountain, while Jack and Jane waited beside the front door. The other relatives had already returned home over the previous weeks. Only Roxane and Nicholas remained.
Their travelling cloaks were fastened, and their bags were packed.
Roxane turned toward Morwenna.
"You will be fine. You are strong, and you have always been strong."
Nicholas walked toward the fireplace but stopped before stepping into the flames.
"Remember what I told you. Be patient with yourself."
He stepped into the hearth. The flames immediately flared a brilliant green, and Roxane followed him moments later.
The entrance hall fell quiet.
Morwenna stood at the bottom of the stairs, with Cinder pressed against her leg. She watched the now-empty fireplace for a while.
Jane came to stand beside her, close enough to offer comfort but without touching her.
"Are you alright?"
Morwenna continued looking at the empty grate.
"I'm still learning," she replied.
Jane nodded.
"That's enough."
Morwenna turned and began walking up the stairs. Her steps were steady now.
There was still a long road ahead of her, but at least she was no longer afraid to walk it.
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