Chapter 27: Prism(3)
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The flowers went on forever.
Kathlyn had no idea how long she'd been walking.
There were no shadows to track the sun. No change in the wind or light. No birds, no insects, not even a breeze to stir the perfect stillness. Only the steady rhythm of her boots through the meadow step after step, minute after minute, hour after hour.
The silence was unbearable.
But she refused to stop.
She'd left the altar behind its blank surface and half-told story still burning in her mind. The tale of a girl who had nothing, lost everything, and faded into the dirt. It wasn't a lesson. It wasn't an inspiration.
It was a warning.
And Kathlyn had spat in its face.
So she walked. Not out of strategy or plan, but spite.
> "This place wants me to feel small," she muttered. "Wants me to doubt myself. Wants me to crumble quietly. Like her."