Chapter 469: The Weaver’s daughter
Elysia, who lived now as Ariel found her new life surprisingly peaceful. She wasn’t particularly skilled at the daily chores Claire gave her; in fact, she was hopeless at most of them. After a few failed attempts, Claire had given up teaching her and simply did everything herself. Not once did she complain. If anything, she seemed to enjoy doting on Elysia.
Her fondness only deepened the day she discovered the one thing Elysia could do effortlessly, lace weaving. Her fingers worked as if they’d been trained for decades. Every pattern was delicate and precise, like art woven into thread.
Their home echoed with laughter over time. They had gotten used to one another. Elysia never asked questions, though somewhere deep inside, a quiet emptiness lingered like a part of her had been misplaced.
The old woman’s name was Claire. She had once truly had a daughter named Ariel, a bright-eyed child who had disappeared in the forest years ago while playing. Despite what everyone else believed, Claire had never accepted her daughter’s disappearance not even her late husband could convince her otherwise.
She had always believed Ariel was still out there, hidden in the woods, and when Elysia appeared that day, injured and lost, she believed the forest had finally returned her daughter. No matter how unlikely, Claire welcomed the fantasy wholeheartedly.
Claire was a skilled weaver. She earned her living crafting intricate lacework, often venturing deep into the woods to collect silk from the cocoons she used. It was solitary work, but she loved it and now, she had someone to share it with.
Word spread quickly around the village about Claire’s mysterious daughter. While few believed the striking young woman who followed Claire around was truly hers, no one said a thing. Claire seemed genuinely happy for the first time since her husband passed, and the villagers respected her grief too much to question it aloud.
Before they knew it, two years had passed. In all that time, Elysia hadn’t once felt the flicker of her powers or suspected anything about who she really was.
"I’ll be heading out now," Ariel’s voice rang from the doorway. She was off to the town square to sell the lace they’d finished for the week and pick up supplies.
Claire was elbow-deep in kitchen chores when she heard her. Her face softened immediately, and she wiped her hands on a cloth before walking to the door. The stranger she had come to love like a daughter stood there, wrapped in a faded scarf. Even in Claire’s old dresses, Ariel looked radiant. She would still stand out even if she wore rags.