Audrey’s Story-A Mother’s Legacy Under the Stars

“How long until midnight?”

“Hmm, about half an hour, I’d say.”

The cool wind on the rooftop brought a measure of calm to Rhine, who feigned nonchalance and continued their conversation.

Gazing down from their elevated perch, every street in Lanburg County remained brightly lit, the mundane glow eclipsing the faint shimmer of the stars.

During his time in the tower, he would surely have yearned to cast a spell of darkness, shrouding the entire county in an impenetrable gloom. Yet now, these lights, interwoven with laughter and joy, no longer seemed so jarring.

The two simply sat in silence, perched on a protruding corner of the eaves. No awkwardness of unspoken words passed between them; instead, a tacit tranquility enveloped their shared emotions.

They merely stared at the lights, perhaps gazing through them at something more distant, more ethereal.

“You once asked me why my surname is Merlin, not Cavendish.”

Audrey spoke calmly, not turning to Rhine, her tone carrying a hint of self-reflection.

“Yes, I asked that when you signed the contract,” Rhine admitted.

“Whether it’s Audrey Cavendish or Audrey Merlin, both names feel rather heavy.”

She offered a bitter smile, her gaze still fixed on the distance.

“Would you be willing to hear a story from me? Just a story.”

Rhine remained silent for a moment before finally nodding earnestly; he had always been a good listener.

“Merlin is my mother’s surname…”

****

“Philip, you are far too young, far too carried away! Running away from home without a word, then bringing back some unknown woman, and now you speak of marriage? Do you still hold the ducal estate in any regard?!”

“Father, I returned by summons only because the family faced hardship. My leaving home was my own affair, but whom I choose to love is a freedom that cannot be stripped from me! I wish for the family to grant her a proper status, as my wife, my beloved. This is something no amount of wealth can compare to, no difficulty can withstand. Otherwise, I would rather cast aside the name Cavendish and never return!”

Indeed, initially, this was a tale of a wanderer returning home, but it was merely the beginning of the story. At that time, Philip was a dashing, brilliant young man.

The unknown woman he brought back was serene and elegant, learned and knowledgeable, gentle and considerate—so perfect that she seemed utterly without flaw. Her eyes, in particular, sparkled like stars, captivating everyone who beheld them.

Later, even without a noble title, she was accepted and cherished by everyone in the ducal estate. She often glided through the gardens like a midsummer fairy, waltzing an eternal round dance with her beloved.

Largely due to his father’s disapproval, their wedding was a secret affair, held not in a grand cathedral but in their private chapel. Yet, the blessings they received were heartfelt—even Marin reluctantly served as a groomsman.

Subsequently, the fruit of their love, Audrey, was born. The ducal family’s eldest daughter, a cherished darling showered with boundless affection—how utterly delightful and endearing she was!

At this point, the story should have concluded with a happy ending. Even if the couple had simply lived out their remaining years in tranquil peace, it would still have been a romantic tale.

Until then—the Norman witch hunt began.

Merlin, ah, Merlin. Diligently and meticulously, she concealed her identity as a sorceress, only for it to be inevitably exposed through the coerced confession of a friend.

Even though her past deeds had benefited both the nation and its people, they could not mitigate the slightest bit of pity for the fabricated charges against her.

Coincidentally, the old duke had just passed away, leaving the entire Cavendish family in a chaotic state of power vacuum, utterly exhausted just by dealing with external forces—

They had no energy left to further incur the emperor’s wrath.

The lofty emperor, in a show of ‘mercy,’ issued an edict: her eyes were to be gouged out, she was to be expelled from the Cavendish family, and exiled to the Eastern Continent, thereby sparing her life.

The Cavendish family agreed to these terms, and it was Marin who handled the negotiations.

“No, Philip, you cannot come with me. You and I now have our own missions.”

“Old friends have sent me secret messages, entrusting their children to me. Even if I hadn’t been exiled, I would not stand by and watch a group of young sorcerers be slaughtered as heretics!”

“And you, my Philip, you are not just a husband, but a father now. Audrey cannot be without you. Promise me, you must stay.”

It was a simple story: Merlin vanished from public sight, leaving behind a father and daughter to rely on each other, the countless tears and hardships endured by them too numerous to recount.

What no one knew was that at the foot of the vast Mount Chione, the last person to see her was a pallbearer named Green.

****

“That’s how it was.”

Like an impartial observer of events, she laid bare everything.

“My mother’s expulsion from the Cavendish family happened shortly after I was born. Consequently, my vague impressions of her are solely based on my father’s accounts, with nothing else to guide me.”

She smoothed the wrinkles on her blue gown, her long eyelashes still shadowed with a subtle melancholy.

“Perhaps this is one reason why I feel little connection to the Cavendish surname—a cold-blooded family that would abandon its own kin for the sake of profit.”

She looked up at the scattered stars.

“For all these years, despite my father’s tireless search for my mother’s whereabouts, news of her has been as elusive as a leaf adrift upon the ocean.”

“Even now that the witch hunt has ended, she has never returned to see us. Tell me—is she simply too disappointed with this decaying family, or is she truly…”

Rhine understood Audrey’s unspoken question.

“I don’t know,” he lied, “but I do know that she has always loved you.”

Rhine snapped his fingers, and a translucent membrane miraculously enveloped their heads like a rain canopy.

The streetlights instantly receded, and the silence grew so profound that only their breathing could be heard. Above them, countless stars clearly dotted the night sky.

“Magic?”

“Indeed, a wondrous spell.”

As he spoke, Rhine made a grasping motion, and a long-barreled astronomical telescope materialized in his hand.

“It’s self-made, and while it can’t compare to the finest astronomical telescopes due to material limitations, it’s far superior to those monoculars only good for watching races.”

With a clap of his hands, a simple stand erected itself between them.

He secured the telescope to the stand and gestured for her to look. Audrey peered in with curiosity, and the hazy stars she remembered were now vividly reflected in her vision—

Stardust cast brilliant arcs of light: azure, lavender, and deep crimson, with myriad floating specks of color diffused throughout the mysterious cosmos. Each captivating fixed star was, in fact, an innumerable sun! Some were far hotter than their own sun, yet appeared more profound due to their immense distance.

These were gazes that transcended light-years, for the stars they watched were reflections of themselves from untold ages past. It was a communion that defied the barriers of time and space, and their gaze upon them would, in turn, be etched into the very musings of their souls.

Rhine then recited the words of an old friend:

‘Should you wander through the bright summer solstice night sky, count southward from the star-dipper hanging in the north, all the way to the ninety-ninth star. You will understand instantly, for it represents my fondest wishes for you, and my most enduring gaze.’

‘—My daughter.’

‘—My Audrey.’

This star, shimmering with a soft, jewel-like green, gently winked, its cerulean halo radiating an unreserved, genuine tenderness.

Audrey was weeping.

Rhine, in the night wind, quietly held up a protective shield of air.

That night, they missed the grandest city-wide fireworks display of the Consecration Festival, yet gained a treasure from beyond the stars, one far more enduringly brilliant than any fleeting pyrotechnic show.