The cathedral smelled warmer today, a faint hint of fresh bread from the kitchen mingling with the ever-present incense. Sunlight poured through the stained-glass windows, casting sharp, colorful patterns across the stone floors. I sat quietly on the bench, twirling a strand of my hair around my finger, thinking about the distant bell that tolled softly.
"Adra!" Mother's voice called from the doorway, vibrant and light this time, unlike the tremble it had held days ago.
I looked up. She was smiling—actually smiling—and my stomach gave a small flutter of relief. She walked toward me, carrying herself like someone lighter than the grief that usually clung to her.
"I'm home," she said, kneeling to meet my eyes. Her fingers brushed my cheek, soft and warm. "I've missed you, little shadow."
"I missed you too, Mama," I whispered.
Mother's smile faltered for a moment, but then she took a deep breath. "I have something to tell you… something important."
I tilted my head. Her tone wasn't the same as the solemn whispers of the nuns or the gentle words of Brother Thomas—it was… excited, and nervous all at once.
"I met someone," she said. "A… man. A handsome man who wants to know me. He… he wants to pursue me. Adra, what do you think?"
My chest tightened. My mind raced. Father had abandoned me, and now she was talking about another man—someone new who might replace the emptiness that had always shadowed our small home in the cathedral.
But then I saw her eyes, filled with hope, and something inside me softened.
"I'm okay with it, Mama," I said gently. "As long as you're happy… I'm okay."
She cupped my face and kissed my forehead, and I felt a flutter in my chest I hadn't known I could feel for anyone but her. "Thank you, Adra… my brave little shadow."
Later, she gathered the priests and nuns. I sat quietly as they listened, expressions shifting between surprise, curiosity, and, in some cases, disapproval. Sister Beatrix's face was unreadable—stern lines etched deeper into her pale face.
"Mother," she said slowly, her voice sharp as a blade, "are you certain this is wise? You have your responsibilities here… and this child…"
Mother's hand rested on my shoulder, grounding me. "I've thought carefully. He is kind… and he respects our lives here. I wanted to tell all of you because you matter to us. And to me."
Brother Thomas stepped forward, his hands folded neatly. "If she is happy, we cannot forbid it," he said softly. His eyes met mine briefly, and I gave him the tiniest nod.
The rest of the morning passed in a blur of whispers and gentle caution. I stayed close to Mother, feeling a strange warmth as she laughed quietly with the nuns. I realized then that it wasn't just about a new man—this was the first time I had seen her alive in a long while, unburdened by grief and fear.
By afternoon, we left the cathedral to do a small shopping for groceries. The streets smelled of baked bread, rotting fruit, and wet stone from the morning fog. My small hand clasped Mother's, and I felt the pulse of her excitement as we walked.
"Adra, do you want to help me choose?" she asked, eyes twinkling as we approached a stall stacked with vegetables.
"Yes, Mama," I said, squeezing her hand. The sound of a cart whee-oo creaking nearby made me jump slightly, but Mother's calm presence kept me steady.
As we browsed, she explained each purchase. "We need carrots, onions… oh, these tomatoes look perfect! What do you think?"
"They're big," I observed, poking one gently. It rolled slightly, and I caught it before it fell with a soft thunk onto the ground.
Mother chuckled. "See? You're already better at this than I am."
We stopped at a stall where a man sold spices, and the air was thick with the scent of pepper, cinnamon, and herbs. Mother's eyes flicked to a young man behind the stall—tall, broad-shouldered, with a kind but confident expression. He glanced at her briefly and smiled.
"Mama…" I whispered, sensing something unspoken. She smiled back, though there was a hint of hesitation.
"Do not worry, little shadow," she said, ruffling my hair. "He is not important to us today. We are here for the cathedral, remember?"
But I could feel it—the subtle tension in the air, the way people watched, the way her smile lingered a moment longer than necessary.
We continued shopping, Mother picking up eggs with a soft clack as they landed in the basket, vegetables piled carefully, small sacks of rice and flour. I helped when I could, gripping the handles of a basket that was almost too heavy for me.
Suddenly, a voice called out from across the street: "Mother Quinn! A word if you please!"
Mother stiffened. I gripped her arm. Her eyes darted, a flash of panic—or maybe fear?—passing over her face.
"It's nothing, Adra… just an acquaintance," she said quickly, lowering her voice. But I didn't believe her. Something about the tone of the man's shout, the way he scanned the crowd, made my skin crawl.
We continued shopping, but my eyes stayed alert, scanning the streets, watching shadows flicker against the walls. The marketplace that had felt so lively a moment ago suddenly seemed dangerous, filled with eyes that might follow us for reasons we didn't yet know.
By the time we returned to the cathedral, the sun was low in the sky, painting long shadows across the courtyard. I helped carry the baskets inside, the floor creaking under the weight, the scent of fresh vegetables mixing with the ever-present incense.
Mother unpacked the items, humming a soft tune. I watched her, and for a brief moment, I almost forgot the shadows that lingered behind her smiles. Almost.
Later that night, after dinner, I lay in my bed, listening to the distant toll of the cathedral bell. The wind rattled the window frame again, carrying a whisper I couldn't quite place. My thoughts kept drifting back to the man at the spice stall, the stranger in the street, and the strange tension that had followed us home.
I wanted to sleep, but my eyes stayed wide open, scanning the shadows. Something was coming—something I couldn't see yet. My heart pounded as the wind howled outside, and a loose shutter banged against the wall with a sharp CRASH!
I pulled the thin blanket over my head, holding my breath. Mother's laughter earlier, the warmth I had felt, now felt like a memory too fragile to hold onto.
And then, in the corner of my room, I thought I saw it: a flicker of movement, dark and quick, vanishing as quickly as it appeared.
I froze.
The shadows were no longer empty.
To be continued…