Leona quickly wiped away her tears and tried to compose herself since she noticed sothing.
She had caught a glimpse of the next letter—the handwriting, elegant and precise, unmistakably Luna’s—and she needed to read it. She couldn’t wait another second.
She set Lulu’s letter aside with the gentlest care, treating it like a fragile treasure she would later fra and hang on her wall.
Then she reached for Luna’s envelope, her fingers shaking as she broke the seal.
The handwriting was beautiful. Perfect loops, careful strokes, the script of soone who had practiced until she could write beautifully without thinking. Leona’s heart clenched.
’Dear Forest Spirit,’
’I don’t know how to start this letter. I’ve written it so many tis in my head, but now that I’m actually putting words on paper, everything feels inadequate.’
’Thank you. That’s where I should begin. Thank you for everything you’ve done for .’
’For the tis you made treats when I was sad.’
’For the way you always seed to know when I needed encouragent and left secret notes.’
’For the morning you left that beautiful hairpin on my doorstep—the one with the silver leaves—and I wore it for weeks because it made feel special.’
’I know you’ve done more for than for most people. I don’t know why. I don’t know what I did to deserve it. But I am so, so grateful.’
Leona smiled, warmth spreading through her chest.
’But despite that, there’s sothing I need to ask you. Sothing I’ve been wanting to ask for a long ti.’
’...It’s about my mother.’
Leona’s breath caught.
’For years, I thought my mother didn’t love . I thought I was a disappointnt to her. I thought she looked at and saw soone who would never be good enough.’
’But recently, I learned the truth.’
’She does love . She loves more than anything. But sothing is holding her back—sothing my father did to her—but the love is there. I can feel it. Even when she can’t show it, I can feel it.
’I don’t know what he did. I don’t know how to fix it.’
’That is what I want to ask you. Please, I beg of you to save my mother from the situation she is in. She has been alone and carrying everything by herself for so long.’
’I don’t want her to be like that anymore. I want to talk to her. I want to hug my mother. I want to give her a kiss on the cheek. I want to tell her everything I have done and so many things I have kept inside.’
’I also want her to pat on the head and tell that she loves and that she is proud of .’
’So, please, please, I beg of you to save my mother. That is the last wish I will ever ask for!’
With all my heart,
Luna
The tears ca before Leona could stop them.
They dripped onto the page, smudging the ink, and she couldn’t bring herself to care.
Her daughter. Her precious, wonderful daughter had written this. She still cared. Even after years of coldness, of distance, of a mother who couldn’t show her love—Luna still wanted her.
Still fought for her. Still believed in her.
"My baby!" Leona sobbed, clutching the letter to her chest. "My darling Luna! She still cares about . After everything, she still cares!"
Luca gently pulled the letter from her hands, setting it aside before the tears could ruin it completely.
He dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief, and she let him, too overco to do anything but cry.
"S-She doesn’t hate !" Leona whispered. "I thought she would hate . I thought they both would. But they don’t. They still love !"
"Of course they do." Luca said softly. "You’re their mother."
Leona cried for a long ti. Not sad tears—not really. They were tears of relief, of joy, of a weight finally lifting from her chest.
This went on for a little while until Leona finally managed to calm herself down a bit. Her eyes were completely red and puffy, but she still looked beautiful in the moonlight.
Luca stroked her hair tenderly. "Are you all right now?" He asked gently, almost like a caretaker watching over her.
She took a shaky breath and smiled—a real smile, bright and beautiful despite her swollen eyes.
"I’m okay now." She said. "Actually, I’m more than okay. Now that I know my daughters don’t hate , I feel like I could fly."
She then looked back toward the basket, eyes lighting up with fresh intrigue.
"Oh! Nyx wrote a letter too." She reached for it, a teasing smile on her face. "I wonder what she said. Did she ask for weapons? A new torture device?"
Leona opened the letter with a playful smile, expecting sothing lighthearted.
But the mont she read the words inside, she scread—
"Kyaaa!"
—and threw the letter away as if it had burned her before staring at it in complete confusion and shock, face pale.
"What’s wrong, Leona? What is written there?" Luca blinked, startled.
"Don’t tell Nyx put so itching powder in there to prank the Spirit of the Forest or sothing. That sounds like sothing she would do."
Leona frantically shook her head, still looking horrified.
"No, no—just look at it yourself, Luca! Look at the frightening thing she has written!"
Luca, now genuinely believing Nyx might have threatened the spirit or demanded more favors, picked up the fallen letter and opened it.
But the mont he did—he himself was shocked beyond belief.
On the letter, written in Nyx’s bold, straightforward handwriting, were only five simple words. But the effect they had was devestating.
They read:
’I know it’s you, Leona.’
Luca didn’t know what to say. He had expected many things—threats, demands, perhaps a list of impossible favors written in Nyx’s bold, dramatic handwriting.
But not this. Not five simple words that carried the weight of a lifeti of secrets.
He could also understand why Leona was so shocked.
She had been bracing herself for teasing, for her sister’s sharp tongue aid at the forest spirit.
Instead, she got sothing far more terrifying—the undeniable truth that her sister knew.
Luca was amused. Leona, on the other hand, was hyperventilating.
"She knows..."
Leona’s voice was high and tight, her chest heaving.
"She knows! She actually knows that I’m the Spirit of the Forest!"
She looked up at Luca with wide, panicked eyes.
"How, Luca?! How did she figure it out? I was so careful! So silent! No one has witnessed for forty years! How did she—"
"I don’t know." Luca shrugged, his voice maddeningly calm. "You’d have to ask Nyx yourself."
Leona stared at him, her mouth hanging open.
"But..." He continued, tilting his head thoughtfully. "It does make sense. She’s your sister. You’ve been pushing her away for years, trying to distance yourself, but she’s done the opposite. She’s stuck to you like a leech. And if anyone would notice small slips, small inconsistencies, it would be her."
Leona stared at him, head spinning, but the explanation landed.
"Or." He added, thinking of all the possibilities. "She might not know at all. She might be guessing. Using her intuition. And right now, she’s probably watching us from sowhere, laughing her head off at your reaction."
Hearing this, Leona’s panic transford into anger—hot, righteous anger—but she couldn’t deny he was right. Nyx would absolutely do that.
Her horrible, wonderful, infuriating sister would set up this entire thing just to watch her squirm.
And now, as the initial panic faded, sothing else crept in—a warm, fond feeling that made her chest ache.
Nyx had figured her out. Her sister, who she had pushed away for so long, who she had treated coldly, who she had kept at arm’s length—had seen through it all.
She had been watching. Paying attention. Caring, even when Leona gave her every reason not to.
A small smile tugged at Leona’s lips.
"She’s always been like that." She murmured. "Stubborn. Impossible. Refusing to give up on no matter how hard I tried to make her."
She shook her head. "I don’t know how she figured it out. But I’m glad it was her."
While Leona was lost in her mories of her sister, Luca suddenly thought of sothing. A tender look appeared in his eyes as he gazed at her, almost as if he had one more wonderful surprise waiting.
"Actually, there’s one more person in the village who I think has found out your identity." He said teasingly."
Leona jerked upright, her brief warmth replaced by fresh panic.
"What?! Who?! How many of you have figured out?! This was supposed to be my greatest secret! It’s so embarrassing that everyone is starting to—"
"Don’t worry." Luca reached into his pocket. "It’s just one more person. And you’re very close to them, so I don’t think you’ll mind."
He then pulled out an envelope. It was different from the others. Older. The paper was slightly yellowed, the edges soft with age. It had been written a while ago.
Leona stared at it, her brow furrowing.
"Who is this from?"
Luca didn’t answer. He just wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer, settling her more firmly against his chest.
"Read it." He said softly. "You’ll understand."
She pouted, squirming slightly. "You don’t have to hold so tight, you know. I appreciate the support, but—"
"You’re going to need the support." He interrupted. "Trust ."
She didn’t understand what he ant, but she was too curious to argue. She opened the old envelope and pulled out the paper inside.
And the mont she unfolded it and saw the familiar handwriting—her calm expression completely disappeared.
Instead, ger eyes turned into pinpoints. Her heart raced, and she could barely breathe, taking deep, shaky breaths in and out.
Finally she turned to Luca with a look of pure disbelief on her face.
"This letter, Luca...this is from..."
He nodded gently. "Yes. It’s from her. Now go on—read it."
Leona gulped, as if this were the hardest task she had ever faced. She genuinely could not believe if this was reality or so beautiful dream.
She held the letter with both of her trembling hands and began to read, her voice cracking from the very first line.
’My darling Leona, how have you been? This is your mother here.’
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