"...elp!"

"...help!"

"Help me!"

I could hear countless screams echoing in my head, piercing through the darkness that surrounded me. The smell of blood filled my nostrils, making me gag with dread. I knew something terrible had happened, but I couldn't bring myself to open my eyes and face the horror before me.

When I finally mustered the courage to look, I saw lifeless bodies scattered on the ground, their blood pooling around them in a sickening display of violence. My heart raced in my chest, and I took a step forward, only to stumble over something soft and warm beneath my feet.

I looked down, and my breath caught in my throat as I saw my lover, Damian, lying motionless at my feet. His eyes were empty, staring up at me with a haunting expression that sent shivers down my spine. I fell to my knees beside him, shaking with fear and sorrow as I realized that he was truly gone.

The darkness seemed to swallow me whole as I knelt there, the screams of the people around me growing louder and more desperate. I felt a hand on my shoulder, and I turned to see a shadowy figure standing over me, their features obscured by the gloom.

"Don't be afraid, Enaeya," the figure whispered in a voice that sent chills down my spine. "This is your destiny, to witness the darkness and despair that plagues this world. This... is your doing"

I tried to scream, to fight against the suffocating grip of terror that held me in its grasp, but my voice was lost in the cacophony of screams that filled the air. The figure reached out a hand towards me, and I felt a coldness seep into my bones, freezing me in place.

And then, as suddenly as it had begun, the nightmare ended. I woke up in a cold sweat, my heart pounding in my chest as I realized it had all been just a dream. I lay there in the darkness of my room, my mind reeling with the horror of what I had just experienced.

I closed my eyes, trying to push the images from my mind, but they lingered like a ghost, haunting me with their gruesome details. I could still feel Damian's lifeless body beneath my feet, and I could still hear the echoes of the screams that had filled the air.

"Damian..." I whispered in a shuddered voice, pulling the covers tighter around me as I tried to shake off the lingering sense of dread that clung to me like a shadow. The darkness pressed in on me from all sides, suffocating me with its oppressive weight.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions raging inside me. I knew that I had to shake off the remnants of the nightmare, to face the new day with courage and strength. And so I shut my eyes back, hoping that the sun would rise earlier then. Yet, the silence lulled me back to sleep, and just like any other dreams, this night's nightmare faded from my memories.

...

"..eya!"

"...naeya!"

"Enaeya, wake up!"

My eyes flew open as I heard my mother's voice calling me, like a bell tolling out the day, cutting through the remnants of my slumber. It was both comforting and demanding, a siren call that stirred my heart.

The soft light of dawn peeked through the thin curtains of my modest room, painting the walls with gentle hues of gold. I lay in bed, cocooned in warmth, entwined in a daze that felt almost too real. In it, winds played melodies whispering tantalizing secrets of distant lands, yet I was pulled from that ethereal realm by a familiar voice of my mother, urging me to hurry.

I stretched, allowing my senses to awaken fully, the cozy embrace of my quilts reluctantly releasing me. The scent of fresh bread floats through the air, mingling with spring's essence-the floral perfume of blooming lilacs and the crispness of dew. My heart warmed at the thought of our bakery, a sanctuary where laughter and the scent of sugar danced together.

"Come on, dear! The dough won't knead itself," she continued, voice bubbling with a blend of warmth and urgency.

With a sigh, I swung my legs out of bed, the cool wooden floor sending shivers up my spine. The morning light shimmered, framing the small artifacts of our humble existence-a faded tapestry, a table set for breakfast, a cracked mirror that once reflected so many moments of beauty and struggle.

Dressing quickly in my simple tunic, I thought of Damian. I could almost feel his warmth beside me, the way his laughter echoed softly in my ears. Our nights together felt like secret escapes, hidden from prying eyes, but my mother's calls always drew me back into the daylight, where responsibilities waited like patient shadows.

"Coming, Mother!" I replied, as I stepped into the small hallway adorned with hand-painted tiles that told stories of our lineage. The bakery awaited me, a realm crafted from flour and fond memories, where my mother and father spun magic with their hands.

I opened the door, and the rich aroma of freshly baked goods enveloped me. Sunlight poured into the room, illuminating the flour-dusted countertops, where my mother stood, her hair like silver wisps framing a face marked by years of toil and love.

"There you are! I was about to send either Sara or Nel to fetch you," she teased, her smile breaking the morning's calm like the chime of the bell above the door.

"Surely you wouldn't send them for me just for that," I replied, stepping into the warmth of the kitchen as I joined her. The sight of her working-her hands expertly rolling dough, dusting with flour, coaxing life into the mundane-never ceased to fill me with awe.

"I need your help with the cookies for tonight's sunday feast," she said, tilting her head towards a pile of dough waiting expectantly. "And I could use your keen sense of flavor to impress the townsfolk."

I laughed. "Yes, because nothing screams 'delight' like my one failed attempt at cinnamon puffs."

"We all fail, my dear. It's how we learn to rise," she said, her eyes twinkling with wisdom. I saw in her a reflection of not just my mother but a mentor, and a friend.

As we began our work, I felt the warmth of her presence enveloping me like a comforting embrace. Outside, the world basked in the rebirth of spring-a vibrant tapestry of blossoming life, waiting to be nourished. But inside, in our little bakery filled with the promise of delight, I discovered my true heart.

"Soon, you'll find someone who will help you rise, too," she said quietly, kneading the dough with determination.

I glanced at her, unsure if she found out about Damian or she meant someone entirely different. But I left the thought behind as I prepared myself to start with my task.

Today's task is baking a special batch of cookies for today's sunday feast that is taking place in the village square.
I take great pride in my baking skills and am determined to create the perfect cookies for this important occasion.

I start by gathering all the necessary ingredients - flour, sugar, butter, and eggs. I carefully measure out each ingredient, making sure to be precise in my measurements. I then begin to mix them together in a large wooden bowl, using a wooden spoon to blend them into a smooth dough.

As I work, I can't help but think back on all the lessons my mother and father have taught me about baking. They have passed down their knowledge and skills to me, and it is a responsibility that I take very seriously. I know that the success of our bakery depends on the quality of the goods that we produce, and I am determined to do my part to ensure that our reputation remains strong.

Once the dough is ready, I begin to shape it into small round balls and place them on a baking tray. I then carefully flatten each ball with the palm of my hand, creating perfectly shaped cookies that will bake evenly in the oven. I take great care with each cookie, making sure that they are all uniform in size and shape.

As I work, the delicious scent of the cookies baking in the oven fills the bakery, making my mouth water in anticipation. I know that these cookies will be a hit at the event tonight, and I can't wait to see the smiles on the faces of the villagers as they enjoy them.

After a few minutes, I carefully remove the cookies from the oven and place them on a cooling rack to cool. I take a moment to admire my handiwork, marveling at the golden-brown color of the cookies and the way they have maintained their perfect shape.

Just as I finish arranging the cookies on a serving tray, my mother comes into the kitchen and smiles approvingly at my work. "Well done, dear," she says, patting me on the back. "These cookies look perfect. The people are sure to be impressed."

I beam with pride because of her words, knowing that my hard work has paid off. I can't wait to present the cookies to everyone and show them what our bakery is capable of. I am filled with a sense of accomplishment and happiness, knowing that I have done my family proud. Both my mother... and my father who now rests peacefully.

Sighing wistfully, I walked over to the front of the bakery where Sara is cleaning some nooks and crannies, greeting her on the way. I stood behind the counter of my family's bakery, an enterprise lovingly nurtured by my parents. The air was heavy with the sweet scents of vanilla and chocolate, mingling with the earthy aroma of freshly baked bread. I watched with pride at our creations lining the glass shelves - delicate cookies glazed with colors as vibrant as the blooming flowers outside.

Just then, the soft tinkling of the bell above the door announced the arrival of customers. An old lady entered first, her hair silver and her back slightly stooped. She wore a deep green shawl that appeared to be woven from tales of old. Following her were a young couple, their hands intertwined, laughter spilling from their lips like music. And trailing behind them was a small boy, his eyes wide with wonder as he clutched a crumpled piece of parchment - his pocket money save for this day.

I spotted the child lingering by the display, his fingers rubbing the edges of the parchment nervously. While Sara, our lively cashier, was already engaging the older customers, my heart tugged at the sight of the boy's indecision. In that moment, I imagined the joy of introducing him to the world of flavors we held behind the glass.

With a steady breath, I stepped away from the counter and approached him. "Hello there!" I said warmly. His big, curious eyes turned towards me, and I knelt to meet him at eye level. "I'm Enaeya, and these cookies-" I gestured to the colorful array, "-are not just any cookies. They hold a bit of magic."

The boy's brow furrowed, skepticism mingling with intrigue. "Magic?" he echoed, tilting his head.

I nodded, the playful grin on my face growing. "Oh, absolutely! Each cookie is made with a special recipe passed down through generations. You see, there's the Chocolate Dream, which can make you feel like you're flying, and the Fairy Fruit Crunch that can grant you a wish with every bite."

"Really?" His skepticism faded, replaced by the bright glow of hope and excitement.

"Would you like to help me choose the right cookie for you?" I asked, gently taking the parchment in my hand. "What's your name?"

"Oliver."

"Oliver! What would you wish for if you could have any wish?"

He pondered for a moment, his small face scrunching cutely. "I... I want a dragon," he finally stated, the conviction in his voice is sincere.

"A dragon, you say? Perhaps you should try the Chocolate Dream, then!" I exclaimed, realizing the irony of a wish fueled by sweets. "You might just find yourself dreaming of flying beside your own dragon in no time!"

The light in his eyes flickered with excitement as I leaned closer. "What color do you want your dragon to be?"

"Green!" Oliver squealed, bouncing on his toes, all traces of doubt vanishing.

"Then let's make that happen!" I picked two carefully crafted Chocolate Dream cookies, ornately decorated with green icing, resembling a shimmering dragon scale. "This one's yours. Enjoy!"

Oliver's face lit up, his shy nature instantly transforming into exuberance as I placed the cookies in his hands. "Thank you!" he shouted, grinning from ear to ear.

"Remember," I reminded him, "imagine the dragon as you take a bite!"

I glanced back towards the counter, where I found Sara grinning and the couple now sharing stolen glances of affection at their own cookies-hinting at the enchantment that pervaded the bakery. The old lady, her eyes twinkling with a sense of nostalgia, was admiring her selection of pastries just as my mother entered the bakery with a splash of flour on her state.

She approached us, her eyes sweeping over the customers, before landing on me with a questioning smile. "What's this I hear about dragons?" she teased, raising an eyebrow as she looked between me and the boy.

"Oliver right here wishes for a green dragon!" I laughed, motioning to Oliver as he took an extravagant bite of his cookie.

"A dragon, you say?" my mother knelt beside him and ruffled his hair. "You're in for an adventure, my little darling! Just be sure to bring us along when you take to the skies, alright?"

The laughter that erupted melded the atmosphere in the bakery into something warm and serene. There we were, a small family forged by sugar and stories, each present taking a piece of our magic with them-be it dreams of dragons or the simple joy of shared moments.

...

After a while, the sun hung low in the spring sky, casting a golden hue on the quaint town of Elyslyn. Flowers bloomed with a vibrant intensity that seemed to breathe life into every corner. As I swept the floor of my bakery, the sweet aroma of freshly baked bread lingered in the air, mingling delightfully with the fragrance of wildflowers wafting in through the open window. The soft chime of the bell above the door signaled the departure of the last customer, and my heart quickened with excitement at the thought of a quiet moment with Damian.

Although, I have been waiting for his arrival for a while now. He promised to return today, but maybe he's just busy. Especially if I consider the fact that Damian is from a family of masons and smiths, and that tonight is the sunday feast, a day where everyone in town is undoubtedly busy with their own set of preparations.

"Enaeya," Sara called, her cheerful voice breaking through my reverie. She approached me with a bright smile that could melt the heart of the most hardened warrior. "Do you need help with those croissants?"

I shook my head, grateful for her enthusiasm but eager to steal away for a moment of privacy. "No, thank you, Sara. I'll finish up in just a moment. Why don't you take a break?"

With a nod, she slipped behind the counter, busily arranging the leftover pastries. I caught a glimpse of bright red roses she'd placed in a vase, and I smiled at the thought of spring and love intertwining. The festival, filled with music and laughter, pulsed just outside my bakery's windows, but my thoughts turned solely to Damian.

After a few minutes, once the last of the flour was swept away, I nodded to Sara and headed towards the back of the bakery, where the faintest sound of a whisper made my heart leap. There he was-my lover-leaning against the cool stone wall, dark strands framing his face. The sight of him sent chills cascading down my spine.

"Enaeya," he said softly, his grey eyes sparkling, his voice tinted with mischief. "Come here."

I looked around quickly, ensuring Sara was preoccupied and that the others were not around. With a smile teasing my lips, I stepped into his arms, relief flooding me when I felt the warmth radiating from him.

"Just a quick kiss," he murmured, leaning closer, his breath almost mingling with mine.

In that moment, the world beyond faded away-the flour-dusted countertops, the bustling town, even time itself. My lips touched his, soft and sweet. It was purely electric, lingering, savory like the pastries we served but infinitely more delectable.

"Do you have plans after the festivities?" he asked, pulling back just enough to gaze into my eyes, his brow arching with curiosity.

I paused, contemplating the stack of bread I had intended to prepare and the assortment of pastries I planned to bake fresh for the week ahead. But a wave of clarity followed his question, washing over me as I realized that the bakery could very well wait. Today was special; the energy of the festival sang to my heart.

"I don't," I replied, smiling wide. "It's just me and my baking tasks, but they don't seem as exciting as what you have planned."

A grin broke across his face, and he looked as if he could explode with excitement. "Meet me up north at the flowery hill after sunset. I have a surprise for you."

"A surprise?" I asked, feeling giddy at the thought. "What is it?"

"Ah, but that's for me to know and for you to find out," he teased, his thumb brushing my cheek in a gentle caress.

I loved the way he always seemed to infuse every moment with mystery and thrill. Imagining being enveloped by the colors of the setting sun, surrounded by a field of flowers, filled me with anticipation.

"Alright, but I must finish up here..." I started, only to have his finger touch my lips, silencing my protests.

"Just a bit longer in this moment," he urged, pulling me close again. I felt the flutter of warmth spreading through my chest as he held me, his fingers entwined in my hair. Time slipped away like the grains of flour that danced through the air, and for a heartbeat, the world outside ceased to exist.

A cough from Sara, clearing her throat loudly enough to signal she was still in the bakery, broke our intimate spell. We quickly separated, and I felt a blush creeping across my cheeks. It was easy to lose myself in him, to forget that our lives also held responsibilities.

"I'll be waiting," he whispered, leaning in for one last fleeting kiss before stepping back and impressing on me the urgency of our tasks. His eyes lingered on mine, and then he slipped out the back door, leaving me breathless.

When I returned to my duties, a new rhythm guided my hands. The shouts of merriment spilled in from the streets, but it was the thought of what lay ahead that fueled my spirit.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, I watched Sara complete her own closing tasks. "You seem rather distracted, Enaeya," she noted in a playful manner, grinning from ear to ear. "Something good?"

I chuckled lightly and shook my head, though my cheeks must have betrayed me. "Just eager for the festivities to conclude."

"Of course," she said knowingly. "I see how Damian looks at you. It's the kind of love that's hard to hide."

Sara has known about my relationship with Damian for a while now. She caught me being showered with affection by Damian in the backyard once when he escorted me home. And even though Damian and I were both men, Sara never said anything bad about it, nor did she break her promise about not telling anyone else of my relationship with Damian, not even my mother. Instead, she constantly teases me about it like what she's done now.

With her teasing words in mind, I managed to finish the closing duties of the bakery. My heart pounded with a mixture of excitement and anxiety as the sun slipped beneath the horizon, remembering to meet Damian up north. I locked the door of the bakery and went to clean myself from the remnants of today's labour. And as I changed into fresh clothes; preparing myself to meet my lover, I couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement to what surprise Damian has in store for me.