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With frantic desperation, Aurora hurried toward Hendrick. Her heart ached with longing, her steps fueled by a yearning she could hardly contain.
Yet, it was only when the lunar eclipse reached its zenith that she finally crashed into his embrace. For a fleeting moment, the illusion felt real, her senses overwhelmed by the warmth of his touch and the familiar twinkle in his eyes. But as her fingertips brushed against him, the cruel truth unraveled. Hendrick was nothing more than a mirage, an illusion conjured from the deepest recesses of her own mind.
A vengeful smirk played on the illusion’s lips as it dissipated into a cloud of ephemeral smoke, leaving Aurora utterly alone, surrounded by the suffocating darkness.
The illusion of Hendrick had crumbled into nothingness, leaving Aurora with an ache in her chest that mirrored the same emptiness she felt on her wedding day. For a fleeting moment, despair threatened to consume her entirely.
Then, like a specter materializing from the shadows, Millie emerged. Her wide eyes frozen in a state of disbelief.
“Millie?” Aurora took a cautious step back, wondering if that might be yet another illusion.
Millie’s mouth opened and closed, as if grappling with words that refused to form. Her expression danced between confusion and shock. “I’m not supposed to be here,” she stammered. “This wasn’t the plan.”
Aurora’s blood ran cold as dread washed over her. If Millie was there without having drunk from the sundrop flower, there was only one plausible explanation, one that sent a shiver down her spine.
“What… what happened?” Aurora’s voice quivered with dread, already bracing herself for the answer.
“Your father…” Millie whispered, her gaze haunted. “He turned me into a statue of gold.”
Back in the present, Aurora turned to Millie’s golden statue. “I am so sorry, my friend,” she murmured, her voice a hushed confession to the statue that seemed to hold the weight of her regrets. “I failed you again.”
In the mirror, Aurora saw her own red, puffy eyes, evidence of the tears shed during her journey back from Tristan’s palace. It was better this way, she told herself, to leave without another farewell that would shatter her heart. Even though their last departure had left her heart in pieces.
With a gentle swipe of her hand, Aurora brushed away a lingering tear. She knew that the road ahead would be marked by more tears, more moments of silent anguish. Yet, she couldn’t afford to dwell on her pain at that moment. Not when her current mission called for her undivided attention.
Aurora went to stand by the window, waiting for the guards at the entrance to finish roaming the castle grounds. Once they returned to the double doors, she would have a short window of time to use the underground tunnels to exit out back.
Glancing at the cuckoo clock above her fireplace mantle, Aurora wondered what was taking the women so long. She had sent them with a message to meet her in her bedroom at sundown. They should’ve been there ages ago, and Aurora couldn’t be caught roaming the castle. Her father had left a strict order that if she returned, she would be locked up again.
Attempting to distract herself, Aurora settled beside the windowsill, her fingers weaving her golden strands into a single braid, the rhythmic motion soothing as she allowed her thoughts to drift beyond the pane.
Outside, her father’s sunflower garden stretched as far as the eyes could see, a field of gold and green. It was the same garden where Ella’s father had plucked the sunflower that eventually led to Rapunzel’s capture, her freedom stolen in the cruel exchange of one flower for another. The weight of the past settled heavily in Aurora’s heart with the pain that had once taken root in those very grounds.
The sunflower garden had become a living reminder of the choices that had forever shaped their lives. Its beauty was tinged with sadness, a reflection of the path that had brought her to this point. It was no wonder that Aurora had chosen to sever her ties to all of it, signing it over to Rumple without a hint of regret.
Yet, even as she turned her gaze from the sunflower garden, another sight drew her in: the bee farm that her father had cultivated. Nearby, a swing swayed in the breeze, memories of childhood laughter intertwined with each creak of the rope. She had been a daddy’s little girl once, cherished and adored by a man who had built that swing with love and devotion. But over the years, that man had changed, consumed by his own golden ambitions.
She remembered the day when he left for the Dreamworld, his return marking a shift that had forever altered the course of their lives. The golden powers he had acquired in that realm had twisted him into something unrecognizable, a cruel ruler who had imprisoned his own daughter in a tower. The loving husband, the doting father, all of it had been eclipsed by the insatiable hunger for power.
Aurora’s heart ached for the loss of that man, for the distance that now separated them. His descent into darkness had been marked by tragedy—the loss of her brother, the spiraling despair that followed, and finally, the death of her mother. The weight of those burdens had broken something within her father, something irreparable. The selfish ruler he had become seemed to mirror the castle itself—a beautiful façade concealing layers of sorrow and regret.
Locked away in the tower of the castle, Aurora had yearned for the father she once had. The man who had lovingly built that swing, the man who had been her world. But the more she reached out, the further he slipped away.
“Aurora?” a soft voice came from across the room. Aurora spun around to find a group of ten women silently tiptoeing into her room.
“Girls!” Aurora’s voice was choked with emotion. Eagerly, she moved to embrace each of them, feeling their essence, their struggles, their relief, as they melded in a string of tight embraces.
The door closed gently behind them.
“We didn’t think we would ever see you again,” one of the women said.
Aurora’s gaze darted around the room, her eyes searching for a face that should have been among them. “And Rapunzel?” she asked.
The women exchanged glances, a silent debate unfolding among them as they contemplated who would bear the burden of delivering the news.
Taking a deep breath, Talia—the eldest among them—spoke. “The night you fell asleep, your father took Rapunzel away. We never saw her again.”
Aurora remembered what Ella had said about her sister. That she had appeared to Killian. If Rapunzel truly had escaped, Aurora had no doubt she knew how to fend for herself.
