After the Day collection
Sapphire discreetly approached the local market women, her voice low and gentle as she took careful notes. Most were hesitant, but after some gentle encouragement, one older woman finally leaned in and whispered,
"Haven't you heard? The barrenness is eating us up. Mothers who once bore children now carry empty arms. And worse, many people vanish at night—lost, only to return weeks later drained of blood." She glanced around nervously.
"The nights are no longer safe."
Sapphire nodded solemnly, knowing that whatever plagued the land was darker than mere illness.
She lowered her voice further, "Are there any eligible ladies of age to conceive? Those who might still hope for children?"
The woman's eyes darkened, her face shadowed with sorrow. "Aye, there are some… but shame has weighed heavy on their hearts. Many who could not bear children have taken their own lives, unable to face the whispers and stares of the village. It is a curse that haunts not just the body, but the soul."
Sapphire's heart clenched at the woman's words. She leaned in, her voice barely a whisper, "How many... how many have lost hope so completely?"
The woman's eyes glistened, tears threatening to fall. "Too many, my lady. Mothers who once dreamed of holding their grandchild, now lie silent beneath the earth, their names barely spoken. The barrenness isn't just in their wombs, it's in their spirits. It eats at their very will to live."
She reached out, placing a trembling hand on Sapphire's. "If you want to help, you must be gentle. This village hides its pain beneath forced smiles, but at night, the silence screams louder than any cry."
Sapphire swallowed hard, determination burning in her chest. This was more than a task now, it was a desperate plea for salvation.
***
This past week, Lady Rosella of Viremont lay curled upon her silken sheets, her limbs heavy, her skin clammy with sweat. The once-vibrant light in her eyes had dulled, replaced by a pale stillness that unnerved even the stone-faced servants of House Espusio. Her stomach churned, waves of nausea rising and falling like a cruel tide.
Beside her, her faithful maid-in-waiting, Ellyn, gently dabbed Rosella's forehead with a damp cloth scented faintly with lavender. The room was dim, the heavy curtains drawn to keep out the harsh sunlight that seemed to mock her suffering.
"I've sent word for the physician, milady," Ellyn whispered, her voice thick with worry. "He'll be here soon."
Rosella barely nodded, her eyes drifting toward the doorway as if expecting to see the short frame of her betrothed, Baron Albert. But it remained empty. Cold.
"He hasn't come," she murmured, her voice cracked and small. "Not once."
Ellyn paused, wringing out the cloth. "He's been informed. Perhaps he's… busy."
Rosella gave a weak, bitter smile. "He is always busy. Even when I am unwell, even when I—" she stopped herself, closing her eyes.
In that silence, the only sound was the wind tapping softly at the window, like a reminder that the world moved on whether Albert cared or not.
Rosella turned her face to the pillow, a single tear slipping free.
Even sickness could not summon his affection.