Chapter 428
It was a normal day when Lorelei did not wake up again.
Alira watched as a piece of her mother left with her. As they cremated her body, the flames rose high and the smoke curled into the sky. The ashes scattered on the wind, and with every grain that blew away, it took pieces of joy with her.
It was now that Alira could see why they called her mother the Devil.
Her mother became detached from the world. She did not cry. She did not speak. She did not eat. She simply painted. Day and night, she painted Lorelei—over and over and over. Her face. Her hands. Her smile. The way she looked at the sea.
Alira tried to reach her.
"Mum," she said.
Her mother did not respond.
"Daphne."
Nothing.
Alira reached for her hand. Her mother did not squeeze back.
The days that followed were hollow. Alira would occasionally receive acknowledgment from her mother, but it was not often. Most of the time, Daphne stared at her canvas, her brush moving in slow, mechanical strokes.
