Hazel - Post Chapter Twelve (Patreon)

The three tiered fountain was set aglow. It was the furthest Hazel could bring herself to walk in a world that was now plagued by darkness. But she had made this area, at the very least, a small beacon.  Fat, waxy candles were perched across the rims of the fountain, their flames flickering from the falling water but not burning out. Hazel had carves enchantments into their wicks.  She sat there now, a box of unlit ones, watching over the small memorial she had made.  A burning ember in the dark, dedicated to someone that had been taken from them along with the lights.

Hazel wiped furiously at her eyes, looking at the fountain. The moss that had always grown around the edges was browning and dead now, covered in thick layers of wax and crystallized water.  Hazel had played at the fountain as a girl, always liking the lights that were strung up in this little courtyard.  They were dead now, and the different paths that had woven outwards to reach the rest of the market, were lost as they continued to try and arrange themselves into something that made sense.  The screams that echoed through the market were starting to die.

That’s what happened when people lost hope.

Malcolm had held her after that first night.  He had left in the beginning and had come back, covered in rain, taking her in his arms and holding her through the night. If she hadn’t been watching out the window, she never would have believed it. But she saw him. She saw Milo press his hand to their chest and the way the light budded from their skin.  She had screamed. Right in the middle of the ball she had screamed loud and long, prompting Gabriel and Belladonna to attack.  For people to start running in fear. For the ones that both Gabriel and Bella had put in place for if anything did go wrong, to move quickly. Nothing mattered but getting to that courtyard.  And all the while, Hazel watched. She watched as they slid to the ground. As Milo knelt there for a moment, staring at them as if they were now a mirage that was fading from sight.  Hazel had felt a part of her die that night.  Briefly she wondered how much heartache she could take.

Leaning forward, she replaced the candles that were about to gutter out. She wasn’t sure what else she was supposed to be doing.  She had told Gabriel that she could provide everyone with tonics. Help if anyone had become stuck within a moved wall or crushed by the chaos. But he hadn’t gotten back to her. So she had wandered out here and lit the fountain, hoping it offered someone, somewhere comfort. Maybe if she could make it bright enough, it could light the tearing sky.  And someone, somewhere, could find peace.

“Oh, my dear girl.”

Hazel startled at the voice, nearly knocking the candles over. She hadn’t heard the footsteps, but the sound of the voice was loud and clear. It caused her to freeze as a familiar sense of responsibility and anxiousness began to course through her.

Slowly, she turned. “Mother,” Hazel swallowed. “I didn’t know if you would be showing up.”

Lucinda Albright was a tall woman. Statuesque and filled with a presence that demanded attention and submission.  Her long black hair fell down past her shoulders to her mid-back while her green eyes burned brightly against her dusky skin and high set cheekbones.

“I wanted to stay away for a bit,” she said.  “I was worried my presence wouldn’t be a welcomed one.  But after hearing you cry for the last week, why, how was I supposed to stay away?”

“You heard me cry?”

Lucinda looked at Hazel with a mixture of compassion and condescending nature.  “Of course, my child. You are my baby. A mother always knows when their child is in pain.” When a tear tracked down Hazel’s cheek, Lucinda sighed stepping forward and gathering Hazel close. She began sobbing in earnest then, pressed against her mother's chest as Lucinda stroked her hair making soothing noises. “Oh, my darling girl. What has happened?”

“You don’t know?” Hazel sobbed.

“I know why the lanterns are out.  That the Night Market persona was sacrificed but I’m afraid I do not understand entirely what it has to do with you. You have barely left the apothecary these last years.”

Hazel felt her heart crack. She had stayed a recluse. Had let the world come to her. Maybe if she had been braver, she would have been able to see this. Stop it before it got too far. She should have known that Milo had not changed. She should have been able to see the signs. He was a terrible liar and she had simply chosen to fall beneath his spell. Maybe if she had been a better person, she would have been able to save them.

“I loved them,” she said simply.

“Who?”

“The Night Market.”  She dissolved into a series of tears then, unable to even say their name. Because it hurt too much. There was a grave out there with their name etched upon it.  Being watched over my strangers, buried in a sea of the dead.

“Oh, my darling girl.  You have finally reached for what you deserve,” Lucinda said softly.

“And lost it.”

“Nothing is ever truly lost, Hazel,” Lucinda admonished. “They are just simply not quite as they seem.”

“You think they’ll come back?”

“I think that we are all still traversing this world so they are not dead like you are grieving them to be.”

Looking up at her mother with a tear stained face, Hazel only dared to hope.  Maybe they would come back. Not the Night Market in general, but Hazel’s Night Market. The one she loved.  But her heart fell. Because the clock on the headstone was not working. They had no indication that they ever would come back.  And even if they did, would they have wanted to?

And then there was Milo…

“Don’t think of him,” Lucinda said, reading the look on her daughter's face.

“He was my best friend,” Hazel rasped. “I defended him.”

“And you were wrong to do so,” she said coldly.  “What have I always told you, Hazel. Milo Next is a parasite. He will do nothing but bring you down in this world.  And I think he had proven himself quite nicely at this point to be exactly the kind of man his mother and father intended him to be.  They tossed him to the market for a reason, Hazel.  Not even they loved him.”

It sat wrong.  It all did. But Hazel couldn’t shake what she saw. Couldn’t shake the fact that he had lied for so long.  Had kept her in the dark because he knew that she could stop him.  Closing her eyes, Hazel took a deep breath.  It hurt lately to do so. It hurt to even get out of bed. She wondered when that would go away.

When Lucinda gathered her close again, she waved her hand, lighting the candles brighter and sending up a soft glow around the courtyard.  “I am home now, Hazel. We have time to work through all this. I am not leaving you again, my darling girl.”

Hazel rested against her mothers' chest, eyes becoming wide and unseeing as she faced the reality that was ahead of her.  The Night Market was dying. Her love was dead and buried. They didn’t know where Milo was and Hazel was unable to help anyone.  With her ear pressed against the newfound beat of her mother's heart, she clung to the sound.

Maybe, with Lucinda back, with Malcolm back, they could tackle this together. Maybe they could be the family they were never able to be.  Hazel closed her eyes.  Family.  Maybe she had been focusing on the wrong kind. Maybe with the lanterns going out, it was a sign to start new.

“Don’t worry, Hazel. Mommy is here.”

Closing her eyes, Hazel let herself hope.