Chapter 153: Chapter 153

Charlotte was stunned when Azraiel relayed the events that took place that evening. She knew she had a nightmare, but she had no idea that the said nightmare was about her.

Of course, it was!

Her wolf remarks.

Smartass!

She thought that she was a threat to everyone else, so she unknowingly cast a protection spell to contain herself within the half circle. It came as a relief that even when she wasn’t aware, she was wise enough to protect her pack. This eased her worries of becoming a danger to some extent.

At least she is not trying to be dangerous on purpose.

This incident forced her to face the truth. Her truth!

She needs to know herself really well. So well, that she is aware of every being residing inside her and its capabilities and nature. To do nothing would be a gamble on the future. She is too smart to make that mistake.

In their home, Azraiel and Charlotte quietly had dinner and went upstairs to the spare room. The damage in their room couldn’t be fixed right now so they decided to use the guest room. Once she was settle in the bed, Azraiel brought the wooden box they took from Arthur.

“Here, it’s yours.” He placed it in front of her on the bed.

“I only took some burned photographs to look for your mother.” He comes to sit beside her.

“And? Did you find her?” Charlotte’s heart hammers in her chest with hope, fear and everything in between.

Azraiel sadly looks at her, “No. The woman in the photos is someone else, Mrs. Elise Thompson. But she is wearing a moonstone necklace.” He nods towards the box.

Charlotte pushes away the tinge of disappointment and opens the wooden box. The first thing in there is the photo Azraiel is talking about.

She gently picks up the first picture and frowns. She has never seen this woman before. The other person is burnt and only one hand mid-air remains.

She picks up the second photo and sees it. The moonstone sits on the neck of Mrs. Elise. The other person in the photo is presumably her mother who is dressed in a dark burgundy sweater and a grey mid-length skirt. Her arm is at her side and there is nothing that would make her identification easy.

Charlotte’s heart aches as she takes in the body of the woman. Mother!

This is her mother!

She smiles with teary eyes. This is the first time that she has seen anything of her mother. Her smile widens. She is gonna keep this burnt photo with her. Nodding to herself, she carefully puts that photo on the bedside stand.

“So, Elise Thompson?” She gulps down the tears threatening to escape and turns to Azraiel who is watching her with a small smile on his lips.

“Yes, she is dead. We are trying to locate her family. Apparently, she worked at the same place as your mother and Arthur. She lived here for a few years after you were born but moved away with her daughter to Belgium.”

Charlotte nods. “I am going to ask Arthur about her tomorrow.” She says and starts looking in the box.

Azraiel nods but doesn’t say anything.

The next thing Charlotte pulls out of the box are a few hairpins. Some are intact while some are disfigured because of the fire. Then comes the fabric of her mother’s dress, then the letters Arthur wrote for her but never gave them to her mother. It disgusts her, to be honest. To her, he was always Uncle Arthur, a person her mother trusted enough to leave her with. A person like a brother! Yet here she is, sifting through his letters of love for her mother!

At last, Charlotte pulls out some burnt journals. According to the contents of this box, these should belong to her mother.

She gently pries open the journal, careful not to further damage the fragile pages. As she flips through them, her eyes widen in disbelief. More than half of the content is lost to the flames, the edges of each page curling inward like a withered autumn leaf. What remains is a cryptic tapestry of symbols and letters she doesn't recognize. The script dances across the page in an intricate pattern, whispering secrets long forgotten. Her pulse quickens, a mix of frustration and fascination washing over her.

Charlotte's fingers trace the delicate, alien characters. They seem almost alive, writhing beneath her touch. She closes her eyes, trying to make sense of the strange language, but it eludes her. The journals feel heavy with meaning, each page a puzzle waiting to be solved.

She turns to Azraiel, “Does this look familiar to you?” She hands him the journal and starts digging out the next one. Without waiting for him to answer she starts flipping through this journal too.

Same patterns, same language!

She sighs. Another dead end?

“I think this is the same language from the book Arthur dropped before.” Azraiel says frowning at the charred journal.

“Katya said that she might have seen it in her mother’s journals.” Charlotte remembers the conversation.

Azraiel nods at her. I’ll ask her to move things faster. She said she was going to look for the language in her mother’s journals.” Azraiel assures her.

Charlotte nods.

Azraiel puts the contents of the box inside it and puts it away. Charlotte stays sitting on the bed and ultimately picks up the photograph she put on the nightstand.

Charlotte’s thumb grazes the burnt paper where her mother is supposed to be. She’ll find out about her. If she can’t find her mother, she will definitely find everything about her!

Soon, Azraiel settles in the bed next to her. She puts the photo next to her pillow and scoots towards Azraiel.

Azraiel pulls her to him and engulfs her in the cocoon that brings her comfort, love and the sense of belonging she always craved.

The last thought on Charlotte’s mind, before she drifts off to sleep, is how much her mother would have loved to meet Azraiel.