The orphanage was a place where light struggled to reach, not only through its narrow, grime-covered windows but also in the hearts of the children who called it home. The building itself was old and weary, with creaking wooden floors that seemed to groan under the weight of years of neglect. The walls were a dull, sickly shade of gray, peeling in places where moisture had seeped in from the outside, leaving dark, moldy streaks that made the air thick and musty. The few pieces of furniture scattered about were worn and mismatched, offering little comfort to those who needed it most. The place seemed to repel joy, as though the years of misery had seeped into its very foundation.
In one of the smaller rooms, tucked away in a forgotten corner of the orphanage, a young girl sat alone on a bed that had seen better days. Seraphina Everheart was her name, though the other children rarely used it. To them, she was simply "the quirkless one," an unfortunate label in a world where nearly everyone had some special ability. She was small for her age, with chestnut brown hair that fell limply around her pale face, the strands unkempt and dull from neglect. Her hazel eyes, though filled with a quiet strength, often looked downcast, as if avoiding the harsh reality around her.
Seraphina had been at the orphanage for as long as she could remember. She had no memories of her parents or any family. The staff told her she had been found as a baby, abandoned on the steps of the orphanage in the dead of night. From the very beginning, she had been an outsider, different from the other children, who viewed her lack of a quirk as a mark of inferiority.
The other children were cruel in their treatment of Seraphina. They teased her relentlessly, calling her "useless" and "broken." In a world where a quirk defined one's place in society, being quirkless was a curse. The other orphans, eager to assert their own worth, found an easy target in Seraphina. They pushed her, both figuratively and literally, into the shadows of the orphanage.
At mealtimes, Seraphina was always left to eat alone. A small plate of unappetizing food—often cold and stale—was clutched in her trembling hands. The dining hall was filled with the sounds of chatter and laughter, but Seraphina was not a part of it. She was always seated at the far end of the table, where the dim light barely reached. The others made sure to keep their distance, as if her lack of a quirk was something contagious. Each mealtime was a reminder of her isolation.
When it came to chores, Seraphina was given the tasks no one else wanted. Scrubbing the floors, washing the dirty dishes, and cleaning the bathrooms became her daily routine. The staff, perhaps sensing the other children's disdain, did little to protect her. They saw her as a means to an end, someone who could take on the more tedious duties while they focused on the more "normal" children. Seraphina accepted her lot without complaint. It was easier that way—easier to avoid drawing attention, easier to stay out of trouble.
But despite the relentless bullying and the cold indifference of the staff, Seraphina harbored a small, flickering hope deep within her heart. It was this hope that sustained her through the long, lonely nights when the orphanage seemed even more oppressive than usual. She dreamt of a day when she might find a place where she belonged, where she could be seen not for what she lacked, but for who she was.
--
The days at the orphanage were long and monotonous, each one bleeding into the next with little to differentiate them. The children woke early, roused from their sleep by the sharp clang of a bell that echoed through the cold, narrow halls. The mornings were the worst for Seraphina. The other children seemed to relish the opportunity to pick on her when the staff weren't looking, shoving her aside as they jostled for the bathroom or snatching the meager breakfast from her tray before she could even take a bite.
Breakfast was always the same—cold porridge that stuck to the bottom of the bowl, a stale piece of bread, and a small glass of milk that was often more water than anything else. Seraphina would sit at her usual spot at the end of the table, carefully spooning the porridge into her mouth as she listened to the other children chatter excitedly about their quirks. Even the youngest among them had something to boast about—a minor talent with fire, the ability to make small objects float, a voice that could be heard over great distances.
Seraphina had none of these things. Her plate was empty long before the others had finished, but she remained at the table, staring at the chipped surface of the wooden tabletop. She could feel their eyes on her, the whispers and snickers barely concealed. She had learned long ago not to react, not to give them the satisfaction of knowing they had gotten to her. Each bite of the tasteless food felt like a ritual—a way to ground herself, to remind herself that she was still here, still surviving, despite everything.
Once breakfast was over, the children were assigned their chores. Seraphina always received the same list—sweeping the hallways, scrubbing the floors, and washing the dishes left over from breakfast. The other children would run off to their more enjoyable tasks, like tending the small garden out back or helping with the laundry, which offered the chance to chat and play while they worked. Seraphina was left alone to complete her chores in silence.
She took her time with the sweeping, carefully guiding the old, bristled broom over the cracked tiles of the orphanage floor. The work was mind-numbing, but it gave her a sense of purpose, however small. As she worked, she allowed her mind to wander, dreaming of a life beyond the orphanage. Perhaps one day, she thought, someone would come for her—someone who didn't care that she was quirkless, someone who would see her for who she really was.
After the sweeping came the scrubbing. The floors were old and stained, and no amount of scrubbing seemed to make a difference. Still, Seraphina persisted, her small hands growing raw as she worked the coarse brush over the tiles. The orphanage was large, and it took hours to clean even a fraction of the floors. By the time she finished, her arms ached, and she was drenched in sweat.
The final task was washing the dishes. Seraphina made her way to the kitchen, where the sink was piled high with dirty plates and utensils. She set to work, methodically scrubbing each dish clean before rinsing it in the lukewarm water. The kitchen was quiet, save for the sound of running water and the occasional clink of dishes being placed on the drying rack. The silence was a strange comfort to her—it was the only time she could hear herself think, the only time she could imagine a world where things were different.
It was during these quiet moments that Seraphina allowed herself to indulge in her daydreams. She imagined a world where she had a quirk—a powerful, awe-inspiring ability that would make the other children envy her instead of mock her. She imagined flying through the skies, casting spells with a wave of her hand, or commanding the elements with a mere thought. But these dreams were fleeting, dissipating like mist the moment she allowed herself to fully embrace them.
As the day wore on, the other children would return from their chores, flushed with excitement and ready for playtime. Seraphina was often left out of their games, her presence ignored or met with scorn. On rare occasions, one of the younger children would approach her, offering a tentative smile or a few kind words. But these moments were few and far between, and Seraphina knew better than to get her hopes up. She had learned that kindness was often followed by cruelty, and it was safer to keep her distance.
The evenings were the loneliest time of all. After dinner, the children were free to do as they pleased until bedtime. Some would gather in the common room to watch television, others would play board games or read books from the small library. Seraphina would retreat to her room, a small, sparsely furnished space that she shared with three other girls. The other girls would often gossip or discuss their quirks, but Seraphina kept to herself, pretending to be engrossed in a book or sketching quietly in her notebook. It was her way of disappearing, of making herself as small and unobtrusive as possible.
Sleep was her only refuge. As she lay in bed, the sounds of the orphanage fading into the background, Seraphina would close her eyes and imagine a better life—a life where she was wanted, where she belonged. And as she drifted off to sleep, the flicker of hope in her heart grew ever so slightly brighter.
--
Despite the overwhelming bleakness of her existence, Seraphina found small glimmers of hope in the unlikeliest of places. There was one staff member, a kind older woman named Miss Clara, who occasionally took pity on her. Miss Clara was in charge of the orphanage's meager infirmary, where she treated the children's scrapes and bruises with a gentle touch. She had noticed Seraphina's isolation and tried, in her own quiet way, to offer comfort.
One evening, as Seraphina was finishing her chores, Miss Clara called her into the infirmary. The room was small and sterile, but it was one of the few places in the orphanage that felt somewhat welcoming. The smell of antiseptic lingered in the air, but it was mixed with the faint, comforting scent of lavender from a small bundle of dried flowers Miss Clara kept on the windowsill. The infirmary had a few old cots lined up against the walls, covered with threadbare blankets that had seen better days. Cabinets filled with bandages, ointments, and other medical supplies stood along one wall, meticulously organized despite the age of the building.
Miss Clara sat at a small table in the corner of the room, a delicate porcelain teapot and two mismatched cups placed in front of her. She looked up as Seraphina entered, her weathered face breaking into a warm smile.
"Seraphina, dear," Miss Clara said softly, her voice warm and soothing. "Why don't you take a break and have a cup of tea with me?"
Seraphina hesitated at the door, her small frame barely visible in the dim light. She was unused to such kindness and wasn't sure if this was some kind of trick. The other children had often played cruel jokes on her, pretending to befriend her only to humiliate her later. But Miss Clara had always been different, treating her with a gentleness that made Seraphina yearn for more.
Seeing her hesitation, Miss Clara beckoned her closer, her smile never faltering. "It's alright, dear. I just thought you could use a little break. You've been working so hard all day."
Seraphina nodded slowly, still wary but not wanting to appear ungrateful. She walked over to the table, her footsteps barely making a sound on the worn wooden floor. She took a seat opposite Miss Clara, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. The room was quiet, save for the soft ticking of a clock on the wall, and Seraphina found herself relaxing slightly in the calm atmosphere.
Miss Clara poured the tea with practiced ease, the warm liquid filling the air with a fragrant aroma. She handed Seraphina a cup, the chipped porcelain warm against her cold fingers. Seraphina cradled the cup in her hands, letting the warmth seep into her skin, soothing the constant chill that seemed to follow her everywhere.
"Thank you," Seraphina murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. She hadn't spoken much all day, and her voice felt rusty, as if it had forgotten how to form words.
"You're very welcome, Seraphina," Miss Clara replied, her eyes soft with understanding. "I know things aren't easy for you here. But I want you to know that you're not alone."
Seraphina looked up from her tea, meeting Miss Clara's gaze. There was no pity in the older woman's eyes, only genuine concern. It was something Seraphina wasn't used to—someone seeing her as more than just "the quirkless one."
"I…" Seraphina began, struggling to find the right words. "I don't know why they all hate me. I try to stay out of their way, but…"
Miss Clara reached across the table, placing a comforting hand over Seraphina's. Her touch was warm and steady, a small anchor in the turbulent sea of Seraphina's life. "It's not your fault, dear. Children can be cruel, especially when they don't understand something—or someone—different. But their cruelty doesn't define who you are."
Seraphina nodded, though she wasn't entirely convinced. The words were kind, but they didn't erase the reality of her situation. Still, there was something in Miss Clara's tone that made her want to believe, to cling to that small bit of hope.
"Do you ever think things will change?" Seraphina asked, her voice small, as if she were afraid of the answer.
Miss Clara smiled sadly, her eyes filled with a quiet wisdom that came from years of seeing both the best and worst in people. "Life has a way of surprising us when we least expect it. You have a kind heart, Seraphina, and that's something more valuable than any quirk. Don't lose sight of that. One day, you'll find your place in this world."
Seraphina felt a lump form in her throat, a mix of emotions swirling within her—gratitude, hope, and a lingering doubt that things would ever truly get better. But for now, she let herself believe in Miss Clara's words, if only for a moment.
They sat in silence for a while, sipping their tea. The warmth of the cup and the quiet companionship were a comfort Seraphina hadn't realized she needed. For the first time in what felt like forever, she didn't feel entirely alone.
After they finished their tea, Miss Clara stood and walked over to the small cabinet in the corner. She rummaged through it for a moment before returning with a small, worn book in her hands.
"I have something for you," Miss Clara said, handing the book to Seraphina. "I found this in one of the donation boxes. It's a bit old, but I thought you might like it."
Seraphina took the book, her fingers tracing the faded cover. It was a simple storybook, the kind meant for younger children, but it was something she had never had before—something that was hers.
"Thank you," Seraphina said again, her voice trembling slightly.
"You're welcome, dear. Whenever you feel lonely, just remember that you're stronger than you know. And if you ever need someone to talk to, my door is always open."
Seraphina nodded, clutching the book to her chest as if it were a lifeline. "I will," she whispered, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
Miss Clara smiled back, and for the first time in a long while, Seraphina felt a spark of warmth in her heart. It wasn't much, but it was enough to keep the darkness at bay for another night.
As she made her way back to her room, the book still held close, Seraphina felt a flicker of hope take root. Perhaps things wouldn't always be like this. Perhaps, one day, she would find a place where she truly belonged.
--
That night, as Seraphina lay in bed, the small storybook tucked under her pillow, she found herself unable to sleep. The words Miss Clara had spoken echoed in her mind, mingling with the distant sounds of the other children settling down for the night.
She reached under her pillow and pulled out the book, opening it to the first page. The story was simple, about a small bird who couldn't fly like the others. It was a tale of perseverance and hope, and as Seraphina read, she felt a strange connection to the little bird.
But just as she began to lose herself in the story, a loud crash shattered the quiet of the night.
Seraphina sat up, her heart pounding in her chest. The noise had come from outside, followed by the sounds of panicked voices and hurried footsteps. She could hear the other children stirring in their beds, whispering in frightened tones.
Another crash echoed through the orphanage, this time closer, and Seraphina felt a chill run down her spine. Something was wrong—terribly wrong.
Without thinking, she climbed out of bed and crept to the window. The night outside was dark, but she could make out the flickering glow of flames in the distance. The town was on fire.
Her breath caught in her throat as she realized the orphanage was in danger. The villain attacks she had heard about on the news—she never thought they would come so close to home.
Panic surged through her, but it was quickly replaced by a determination she hadn't felt before. The other children were in danger, and she had to do something—anything—to help.
She grabbed the small book and tucked it into the pocket of her nightgown before rushing out of the room. The hallways were chaotic, filled with the frightened cries of children and the shouts of the orphanage staff trying to maintain order.
Seraphina fought her way through the crowd, her heart racing as she searched for Miss Clara. The older woman was nowhere to be seen, and fear gnawed at Seraphina's insides. Where was she? Was she safe?
As Seraphina reached the front entrance of the orphanage, she found herself frozen in place. The door had been blown off its hinges, and outside, the night was filled with the terrifying sight of fire and destruction. The town was under attack, and the villain responsible was moving closer.
The sky was painted in hues of red and orange, the flames licking at the night air as if trying to consume everything in their path. The heat was oppressive, almost suffocating, and Seraphina could feel the sweat bead on her forehead as she took in the scene before her. The distant sound of explosions echoed through the town, a constant reminder of the chaos that was unfolding.
In the distance, Seraphina could make out the shadowy figure of the villain responsible for the destruction. He was a towering figure, his body wreathed in flames that danced around him like a living entity. The fire didn't seem to harm him—instead, it obeyed his every command, spreading through the town with frightening speed. The villain's power was overwhelming, a force of nature that left devastation in its wake.
The staff were desperately trying to usher the children out of the building, guiding them towards the back of the orphanage where it was safer, but Seraphina knew they didn't have much time. The villain was getting closer, and soon there would be nowhere left to run.
She could hear the panicked voices of the other children, their cries of fear and confusion filling the air. Some of the younger ones were clinging to the older kids, tears streaming down their faces as they struggled to understand what was happening. The staff, despite their best efforts, were clearly overwhelmed. They were trying to maintain order, but the sheer chaos made it nearly impossible. In the midst of all this, Seraphina felt a strange calm settle over her. Fear still gnawed at the edges of her mind, but there was something else too—something stronger. A sense of resolve that had taken root deep within her.
I can't just stand here* she thought, her eyes fixed on the approaching flames. *I have to do something.*
Without fully understanding why, Seraphina stepped forward, out into the night. The heat from the flames was intense, almost unbearable, but she ignored it, her focus locked on the advancing villain. Her heart pounded in her chest, but she could feel something stirring inside her—a strange, unfamiliar sensation, like a dormant power awakening for the first time.
As the villain drew closer, she could make out more of his features. His skin was charred and cracked, as if it had been burned repeatedly and never healed properly. His eyes glowed with a fierce, malevolent light, and his mouth twisted into a cruel sneer as he surveyed the destruction he had wrought. He was tall, impossibly tall, and every step he took seemed to shake the ground beneath him. The fire surrounding him wasn't just ordinary fire—it was alive, pulsing with energy, reacting to his emotions. It was a reflection of the chaos and destruction that consumed him.
Seraphina's hands trembled as she watched him approach, but she stood her ground. She didn't have a quirk, she knew that. She had nothing that could stand against someone like him. But even so, she couldn't bring herself to run. She couldn't let him hurt the others. Not after everything they had already been through.
The villain's gaze finally landed on Seraphina, and for a moment, he seemed almost surprised. A small, quirkless girl standing in his path, defying him with nothing but sheer willpower. His surprise quickly turned to amusement, and he let out a low, mocking laugh.
"Well, well," the villain sneered, his voice rough and gravelly. "What do we have here? A little hero wannabe, are you? Think you can stop me, girl?"
Seraphina didn't respond. She couldn't find the words, but her eyes never wavered from his. She could feel the fear bubbling up inside her, threatening to consume her, but she pushed it down. This was not the time for fear.
The villain chuckled darkly, raising one hand. Flames danced around his fingers, forming into a massive fireball that hovered above his palm. The heat from it was intense, and Seraphina could feel the air around her growing hotter, suffocatingly so. The villain grinned wickedly, his eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure.
"Let's see how long that bravery lasts," he snarled, and with a flick of his wrist, he hurled the fireball directly at Seraphina.
Time seemed to slow down as the fireball hurtled toward her. Seraphina's instincts screamed at her to move, to dodge, but her feet felt rooted to the spot. Her mind raced, trying to find a way out, but there was no escape. The fire was too fast, too powerful.
And then, something extraordinary happened.
As the fireball closed in, a blinding light erupted from within Seraphina. It wasn't a light she had ever seen before—pure and radiant, like the very essence of hope itself. The light surged outward, forming a protective barrier around her, and the fireball collided with it, shattering into harmless sparks that dissipated into the night air.
The villain recoiled in shock, his eyes widening as he stared at the glowing figure before him. The light surrounding Seraphina was almost blinding, and it seemed to be growing stronger with each passing second. It wasn't just a defensive shield—it was something far more powerful.
Seraphina stood at the center of the light, her body moving on instinct. She didn't understand what was happening, but the energy flowing through her was undeniable. It filled her with a sense of peace and purpose, as if she had finally found something she had been searching for her entire life.
The villain snarled in frustration, his amusement quickly turning to anger. He unleashed a torrent of flames, each one more powerful than the last, but the light around Seraphina held firm. The flames licked at the barrier, but they couldn't penetrate it. The villain's attacks grew more frenzied, more desperate, but the light only grew stronger in response.
Seraphina's mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, but at the center of it all was a single, unshakable truth: *I have to protect them.* It didn't matter that she was quirkless. It didn't matter that she had been told all her life that she was powerless. In this moment, she knew that she had the strength to protect those she cared about.
The villain let out a roar of rage, summoning all his power into a single, massive wave of fire that he hurled at Seraphina with all his might. The flames surged toward her, an unstoppable force of destruction, but Seraphina didn't flinch. She raised her hands, and the light responded to her will, forming a solid wall of energy that met the flames head-on.
The impact was immense. The ground shook, and the air was filled with the deafening roar of fire and light clashing in a battle of wills. Seraphina could feel the strain on her body, the energy coursing through her threatening to overwhelm her, but she refused to back down. She held the light steady, pouring every ounce of her strength into maintaining the barrier.
For a moment, it seemed as though the fire might win. The heat was unbearable, and the force of the flames pushed against the light with relentless fury. But Seraphina grit her teeth, drawing on reserves of strength she didn't know she had. *I can do this* she told herself. *I have to do this.*
Slowly, inch by inch, the light began to push back against the flames. The villain's expression twisted into one of disbelief as his firestorm was gradually repelled, his power faltering in the face of Seraphina's unyielding resolve.
With a final surge of energy, Seraphina pushed the flames back entirely, sending them crashing into the villain with a force that knocked him off his feet. The fire that had once surrounded him flickered and died, leaving him vulnerable and exposed.
Seraphina's vision blurred, her body trembling from the effort, but she knew she couldn't stop now. She had to finish this.
Drawing on the last of her strength, Seraphina stepped forward, the light still glowing faintly around her. The villain struggled to rise, but the impact of his own flames had weakened him, and he stumbled as he tried to regain his footing.
Seraphina clenched her fists, her hands shaking from exhaustion, but she kept moving. She reached the villain, who glared at her with a mix of hatred and fear. He raised a hand, as if to strike her down, but Seraphina acted first.
With a swift motion, she placed her hand against his chest, and the light surged from her once more. It wasn't as bright as before—her energy was nearly spent—but it was enough. The villain let out a gasp as the light pierced through him, banishing the darkness that fueled his power.
For a moment, everything was still. The fire, the destruction, the chaos—it all seemed to fade away, replaced by a profound silence. Seraphina could feel the villain's power dissipating, his strength leaving him as the light cleansed him of his malevolent energy.
The villain collapsed to the ground, unconscious and defeated. The flames that had consumed the town flickered out, leaving only the charred remains of buildings and the smell of smoke in the air.
Seraphina stood over him, her vision swimming and her legs threatening to give out. The light around her dimmed, then faded entirely, leaving her feeling hollow and drained. She swayed on her feet, the world spinning around her, but she forced herself to stay upright. She had to make sure the children were safe.
But her strength was gone. As the adrenaline that had carried her through the fight began to fade, Seraphina felt the full weight of her exhaustion crash down on her. Her legs buckled, and she fell to the ground, darkness creeping in at the edges of her vision.
"Seraphina!" A familiar voice called out to her, filled with panic and concern. It was Miss Clara.
Seraphina tried to focus on the sound, tried to stay awake, but it was too much. The darkness was pulling her under, and she couldn't fight it any longer.
As she lost consciousness, the last thing she saw was Miss Clara's tear-streaked face hovering above her, her expression one of fear and sorrow. And then, everything went black.
--
Seraphina awoke in a haze of pain and confusion. Her body felt heavy, and every movement sent sharp jolts of agony through her muscles. She blinked against the harsh light, trying to make sense of her surroundings. She was back in the infirmary, lying on one of the cots. The room was quiet, save for the faint sounds of footsteps outside the door.
Miss Clara was sitting beside her, her face etched with worry. When she saw Seraphina stir, her eyes filled with relief, and she reached out to gently brush a stray lock of hair from Seraphina's forehead.
"Thank goodness you're awake," Miss Clara whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. "You gave us quite a scare, Seraphina."
Seraphina blinked slowly, her mind still foggy from the exhaustion. She could barely move, every muscle in her body aching from the effort she had exerted the night before. Her throat was dry, and when she tried to speak, it came out as a raspy whisper. "What... happened? Is everyone... okay?"
Miss Clara gently squeezed her hand, her touch warm and reassuring. "Everyone is safe, thanks to you. You... you saved them, Seraphina. You saved us all."
Seraphina's hazel eyes widened in disbelief. The memories of the night before were blurry, but fragments began to piece themselves together—the fire, the villain, and the blinding light that had come from within her. She could hardly believe it, but the evidence was there. She had done something... extraordinary.
"I... I don't understand," Seraphina murmured, her voice barely audible. "How did I...?"
Miss Clara's eyes softened, and she gently stroked Seraphina's hair. "I don't know, dear. But whatever happened, it was miraculous. You've always been special, Seraphina—special in ways that go beyond quirks."
Seraphina tried to process Miss Clara's words, but her mind was still reeling. She had lived her entire life believing she was quirkless, powerless in a world where power defined everything. But now... now she wasn't so sure. The light, the power that had surged through her—it had felt so natural, so right, like a part of her that had always been there, waiting to be awakened.
But even as the realization dawned on her, a wave of doubt followed. What did this mean for her now? What would happen when the other children, the staff, learned what she had done? Would they still see her as the quirkless outcast, or would things change? And what about the power itself? Was it something she could control, or had it been a one-time occurrence, born out of desperation?
Miss Clara seemed to sense her inner turmoil and gently shushed her, as if calming a frightened child. "Don't think about it too much right now, Seraphina. You need to rest. Your body has been through so much. Whatever questions you have, we'll figure them out together."
Seraphina nodded weakly, grateful for Miss Clara's comforting presence. She closed her eyes, letting the exhaustion pull her back into a fitful sleep. But even as she drifted off, her thoughts lingered on the light—the warmth and strength it had given her, the way it had protected those she cared about. For the first time in her life, she felt a glimmer of something new... something that might, just might, be hope.
--
Days passed as Seraphina recovered in the infirmary. Miss Clara kept a close watch over her, tending to her needs with a kindness that made Seraphina feel cared for in a way she hadn't experienced before. The other children, too, seemed to regard her differently. Gone were the cruel whispers and mocking glances. Instead, they looked at her with a mixture of awe and curiosity, though they kept their distance, unsure of how to approach her.
The staff whispered among themselves, unsure of how to explain what had happened. The story of Seraphina's miraculous actions had spread throughout the town, but no one could quite understand how it had come to pass. After all, Seraphina had always been quirkless—or so they thought.
As Seraphina regained her strength, she found herself grappling with more questions than answers. She spent long hours staring out the infirmary window, watching the slow process of rebuilding in the town below. The fires had caused significant damage, but the people were resilient. They worked together to repair what had been lost, just as they had always done in the face of adversity.
Miss Clara encouraged Seraphina to take things one step at a time, but Seraphina couldn't shake the feeling that something within her had fundamentally changed. She could still feel the faint remnants of the light, a warmth deep in her chest that hadn't been there before. It was as if a door had been opened, and now there was no way to close it again.
One evening, after the sun had dipped below the horizon and the orphanage had fallen into a hushed stillness, Seraphina finally gathered the courage to speak to Miss Clara about her fears.
"Miss Clara," she began hesitantly, sitting up in her cot as the older woman busied herself with folding linens. "Do you think... do you think that light will come back? The one that saved everyone?"
Miss Clara paused, setting the linens aside before turning to face Seraphina. There was a contemplative look in her eyes, as if she had been expecting this question. She walked over to Seraphina's bedside, sitting down on the edge of the cot.
"I don't know for sure, Seraphina," Miss Clara admitted, her voice gentle. "But I believe that power, whatever it was, is a part of you. It came from within you, and I don't think it will just disappear. Whether it returns or not... well, that's something only time will tell."
Seraphina nodded slowly, processing her words. "But what if I can't control it? What if it hurts someone? Or... or what if it never comes back, and I'm just the same as I was before?"
Miss Clara reached out, placing a comforting hand on Seraphina's shoulder. "You're not the same as you were before, dear. None of us are. You've grown, and you've shown incredible strength. You saved lives, Seraphina. That's something no one can ever take away from you."
Seraphina looked down at her hands, hands that had once felt so small and powerless. "But I don't know what to do next. How can I be... different, after everything?"
Miss Clara smiled softly. "You don't have to have all the answers right now. Life is about learning and growing, and that's a journey we all take, no matter how old we are. Just remember that you're not alone, Seraphina. Whatever happens, you have people who care about you."
Seraphina felt a swell of emotion at Miss Clara's words. It wasn't often that she had heard such kindness, such reassurance. "Thank you, Miss Clara. I... I'll try to remember that."
Miss Clara gave her a warm smile, and for a moment, they sat in comfortable silence. The weight of uncertainty still hung over Seraphina, but for the first time, she felt like she didn't have to carry it alone.
--
In the days that followed, Seraphina gradually returned to her routine. The orphanage still bore the scars of the attack—broken windows, charred walls—but life continued on. The children resumed their chores and their games, though there was a new air of caution and awareness among them. The world outside the orphanage walls had become a little more dangerous, and they all felt it.
But for Seraphina, things were different now. She couldn't slip back into the shadows as easily as before. The other children no longer taunted her or pushed her aside. They watched her with curious eyes, as if they were seeing her for the first time. Some even attempted to speak to her, their words awkward and halting, unsure of how to bridge the gap that had always separated them.
Seraphina responded with quiet politeness, though she kept her distance. She didn't know how to handle this new attention, and part of her still feared that it could all be taken away at any moment. But the change in their behavior was undeniable, and slowly, Seraphina began to believe that maybe, just maybe, things could be different.
She spent her free time in the small garden behind the orphanage, a quiet place where she could think. The garden had always been her refuge, a place where the noise of the world faded away, leaving only the soft rustling of leaves and the gentle hum of insects. She would sit on the worn stone bench beneath the old oak tree, the branches casting dappled shadows over her as she pondered the future.
One afternoon, as she sat in the garden, lost in thought, she felt a presence beside her. She looked up to see one of the younger children—a little girl named Emily—standing nearby, her small hands clutching the edge of her worn dress.
"Seraphina?" Emily's voice was hesitant, as if she wasn't sure if she should be there. "Can I sit with you?"
Seraphina blinked in surprise but nodded. "Of course."
Emily carefully climbed onto the bench, her feet dangling off the edge. She swung them back and forth nervously before speaking again. "I... I just wanted to say thank you. For... for what you did."
Seraphina smiled faintly. "You don't have to thank me, Emily. I just did what I could."
Emily looked up at her, her wide eyes filled with a mix of awe and admiration. "But you were so brave. I wish I could be brave like you."
Seraphina's heart softened at the little girl's words. She didn't feel particularly brave, but hearing it from Emily made her realize that maybe bravery wasn't about feeling fearless—it was about doing what needed to be done, even when you were scared.
"You are brave, Emily," Seraphina said gently. "Just by being here, you're showing strength. And whenever you need help, you can always ask. We're all in this together."
Emily's face lit up with a shy smile, and she nodded, comforted by Seraphina's words. The little girl's expression softened as she seemed to relax, and she continued to sit beside Seraphina in peaceful silence. For a while, neither of them spoke. They simply sat together, enjoying the quiet sanctuary of the garden.
As they sat there, Seraphina couldn't help but reflect on how much had changed in such a short time. Before the attack, she had been isolated, her world defined by loneliness and the constant struggle to survive. Now, she was beginning to see glimpses of something more—connections, however small, that could make life bearable. Perhaps even meaningful.
Emily eventually broke the silence, her voice barely more than a whisper. "Do you think... things will ever go back to the way they were before the fire?"
Seraphina glanced down at the girl, seeing the worry etched in her small features. It was a question that weighed on everyone, whether spoken or unspoken. The fire and the attack had changed the town and the orphanage. Even if the physical damage could be repaired, the scars left behind would linger for a long time.
"I don't know," Seraphina replied honestly, her voice thoughtful. "But I think... maybe that's okay. Sometimes, things change, and we can't go back to the way they were. But that doesn't mean we can't move forward. We can make things better, even if they're different."
Emily seemed to ponder this, her small brow furrowed in concentration. After a moment, she looked up at Seraphina with a hopeful glimmer in her eyes. "So... it'll be okay, even if it's different?"
Seraphina smiled gently, nodding. "Yes, Emily. It'll be okay."
The little girl seemed satisfied with this answer and leaned back against the bench, her shoulders relaxing as she let out a small sigh of relief. Seraphina felt a sense of warmth fill her chest, a quiet joy that came from knowing she had eased someone else's fears, even if just for a moment.
The days continued to pass, and slowly but surely, the orphanage began to return to a semblance of normalcy. The rebuilding efforts in the town progressed, and life, as it often does, found a way to carry on. The children resumed their routines, and the laughter that had once been absent began to fill the halls again. Yet, there was an undeniable shift in the way they treated Seraphina. She was no longer just "the quirkless one." The fear and awe that had initially surrounded her actions began to fade, replaced by a growing respect.
Seraphina found herself more included in activities, even if she didn't always participate fully. The other children, once so eager to exclude her, now invited her to join their games or asked her to sit with them at meals. She appreciated the gestures, even if it took her time to fully adjust to the newfound attention.
One evening, as Seraphina was returning to her room after completing her chores, she was approached by one of the older boys, Thomas. He had always been one of the more distant figures in the orphanage, not particularly cruel, but not kind either. He was tall for his age, with unruly dark hair and sharp blue eyes that often seemed to be assessing the world around him.
Thomas cleared his throat awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot as if unsure how to begin. Seraphina looked up at him, waiting patiently. She had become used to people struggling to find the right words around her since the incident.
"Hey, Seraphina," Thomas finally said, his voice gruff but not unkind. "I, uh... I just wanted to say sorry. For, you know, everything. The way we... treated you before. It wasn't right."
Seraphina blinked in surprise, not expecting such a direct apology. She had seen the changes in behavior from the other children, but this was the first time anyone had openly acknowledged what had happened before the attack.
She paused for a moment, searching for the right response. "Thank you, Thomas," she said quietly, her voice sincere. "I appreciate that."
Thomas nodded, looking relieved that she hadn't dismissed his apology. "I guess we just... didn't understand. About you, I mean. We were wrong. You're a lot stronger than any of us thought."
Seraphina felt a faint smile tug at her lips. "It's okay. I didn't really understand myself, either."
There was a brief silence between them, but it wasn't uncomfortable. It was a moment of mutual acknowledgment, a bridge between the past and the present.
After a moment, Thomas gave a small, awkward grin. "Well, if you ever want to hang out with us... you know, outside of chores and stuff... you're welcome to. Just thought you should know."
Seraphina nodded, touched by the offer. "I'll keep that in mind. Thanks, Thomas."
With that, Thomas gave a quick nod and headed off down the hallway, leaving Seraphina standing there, a mix of emotions swirling in her chest. It was a small gesture, but it meant more to her than she could express. She was starting to believe that maybe, just maybe, she was no longer alone.
--
One night, about a week after the attack, Seraphina was sitting on her bed, the small storybook Miss Clara had given her resting on her lap. She had read through it several times by now, finding comfort in its simple tale of perseverance. But tonight, her thoughts kept drifting back to the light—the power that had awakened within her during the attack.
She still didn't fully understand what had happened, and the uncertainty weighed on her. The memory of the light was vivid, but she hadn't felt anything like it since that night. Had it been a one-time occurrence? Or was it something she could tap into again if she needed to? The questions circled endlessly in her mind, keeping her from sleep.
With a soft sigh, Seraphina set the book aside and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. She slipped on her worn shoes and quietly left the room, careful not to wake the others. She made her way through the darkened halls of the orphanage, her steps light and sure as she headed for the garden. It had become her place of solace, a place where she could think without interruption.
The night air was cool and crisp as Seraphina stepped outside, the stars twinkling faintly above her. The garden was peaceful, the gentle rustle of leaves and the soft chirping of crickets the only sounds that accompanied her. She found her usual spot beneath the old oak tree and sat down, drawing her knees to her chest as she gazed up at the sky.
For a long time, she sat in silence, letting the quiet of the night soothe her restless thoughts. But eventually, she closed her eyes and allowed herself to focus inward, searching for that faint warmth she had felt before—the warmth that had saved them all.
At first, there was nothing. Just the steady rhythm of her breathing and the cool breeze brushing against her skin. But she didn't give up. She concentrated, reaching deep within herself, trying to find that spark of light that had once felt so natural.
And then, just as she was beginning to think it might be hopeless, she felt it. A faint flicker of warmth, barely noticeable, but undeniably there. It was like a small ember buried deep within her, waiting to be kindled into a flame.
Seraphina's heart quickened, but she remained calm, focusing on that tiny spark. She concentrated on nurturing it, coaxing it to grow. Slowly, she felt the warmth spread, radiating from her chest and filling her with a sense of peace and purpose.
As the warmth grew, she opened her eyes, and to her amazement, she saw a soft, gentle light glowing around her hands. It wasn't as intense as it had been during the attack, but it was real, and it was hers.
A mixture of awe and relief washed over her as she watched the light dance across her skin. She still didn't fully understand what this power was or why it had awakened within her, but she knew one thing for certain: it was a part of her now, and she would learn to control it.
For the first time in her life, Seraphina felt truly powerful—not because of the light itself, but because she had found something within herself that she could rely on. Something that no one could take away from her.
She stayed in the garden for a long time that night, practicing with the light, letting it flow through her, and feeling it respond to her will. It was exhausting, but also exhilarating. Every time she called upon the light, it came more easily, more naturally, until it felt like an extension of herself.
When she finally returned to the orphanage, slipping quietly back into her bed, she felt a sense of peace she hadn't known before. The uncertainty was still there, the questions still lingered, but they no longer felt overwhelming.
Seraphina knew she had a long journey ahead of her—one filled with challenges and unknowns. But for the first time, she felt ready to face it. She wasn't just the quirkless girl anymore. She was Seraphina Everheart, and she had found her light.
And no matter what the future held, she would never let it go.
--
The following morning, as Seraphina woke to the sound of the familiar bell echoing through the orphanage halls, she felt a renewed sense of purpose. Today was just another day, filled with chores and routines, but it was also the first day of something new. A new beginning for herself, and perhaps for those around her.
She got dressed quickly, her movements light and unburdened by the weight of doubt that had plagued her before. The familiar aches in her muscles from the chores didn't bother her as much as they used to. There was a newfound energy in her steps, one that came from the quiet confidence that had taken root within her. She knew she was different now—not just because of the light she had discovered, but because she was no longer afraid to embrace it.
As she walked through the orphanage's halls, the other children greeted her with smiles and nods—small gestures, but ones that meant the world to Seraphina. She no longer felt the harsh gazes of judgment or the whispers of mockery that used to follow her. Instead, there was a sense of cautious respect, and perhaps even a touch of admiration.
When she reached the dining hall, she found that her usual seat at the far end of the table was no longer isolated. Several of the younger children, including Emily, had taken up spots near her, offering shy smiles as they quietly ate their breakfast. Seraphina hesitated for a moment, surprised by the change, but then she slid into her seat with a small smile of her own. It was a small thing, but it made her heart feel lighter.
Breakfast proceeded quietly, with the usual chatter and clatter of utensils filling the air. But even in the midst of the ordinary routine, Seraphina felt the subtle shift in how the other children treated her. She noticed small acts of kindness—a piece of bread pushed toward her when the loaf ran low, a cup of milk filled without her asking. These gestures were almost imperceptible, but to Seraphina, they were monumental.
After breakfast, it was time for chores. Seraphina returned to her usual tasks—sweeping the hallways, scrubbing the floors, and washing the dishes left over from breakfast. But now, there was a quiet contentment that accompanied her work. The monotonous tasks that had once weighed her down now felt more like a rhythm she could move through, a steady beat that allowed her mind to wander and reflect.
As she swept the hallways, she caught glimpses of the children going about their day. Some were playing, others were helping with the lighter chores, and for once, Seraphina didn't feel the sharp sting of exclusion. She was a part of this place now—not as an outsider, but as someone who belonged.
The morning passed in a peaceful blur, and by midday, the sun had reached its peak, casting a warm light through the orphanage's grime-covered windows. Seraphina found herself drawn to the garden once again during her break. She wanted to reconnect with the light she had felt the night before, to see if it was still there, waiting for her.
When she reached the garden, she was greeted by the familiar sight of the old oak tree standing tall amidst the overgrown grass and wildflowers. The tree had always been a comforting presence, its thick branches offering shelter and shade. Seraphina approached it, her heart beating steadily with a mixture of anticipation and calm.
She sat down beneath the oak tree, closing her eyes as she let the sounds of the garden surround her—the gentle rustling of leaves, the distant hum of insects, and the soft breeze that brushed against her skin. She focused inward, seeking that spark of warmth that she had felt the night before.
At first, there was nothing but the quiet rhythm of her breath. But she didn't let doubt creep in. She knew it was there, waiting for her. She concentrated, feeling the steady pulse of her heart, and slowly, she felt it again—the faint flicker of light within her chest, like a tiny flame waiting to be kindled.
This time, the light came more easily, as if responding to her call. It spread through her, filling her with that familiar warmth and peace. She opened her eyes and watched as the soft glow appeared around her hands once more. The sight of it filled her with a quiet joy, a reassurance that this power was indeed a part of her.
Seraphina spent the next few minutes practicing, letting the light flow through her in gentle waves. She focused on controlling it, shaping it with her will. It wasn't easy—each time she tried to push the light beyond its gentle glow, she felt a strain on her energy, a reminder that she was still learning. But she didn't let that discourage her. This was only the beginning, and she had time to grow.
As she sat there, lost in her practice, she didn't notice the quiet footsteps approaching until a voice interrupted her thoughts.
"Seraphina... is that you?"
Seraphina looked up, startled, to see Emily standing a few feet away, her wide eyes filled with awe as she stared at the glowing light around Seraphina's hands. The little girl's mouth hung open in amazement, and for a moment, she seemed too stunned to speak.
Seraphina quickly let the light fade, feeling a pang of worry. She hadn't meant for anyone to see her practicing, especially not one of the younger children. But the expression on Emily's face wasn't one of fear—it was pure, unfiltered wonder.
"I... I didn't mean to scare you," Seraphina said softly, her voice uncertain.
Emily shook her head quickly, her curls bouncing with the motion. "You didn't scare me! That was... that was amazing! How did you do that?"
Seraphina hesitated, unsure of how to explain. She still didn't fully understand it herself. But Emily's excitement was contagious, and for the first time, Seraphina felt a surge of pride in what she could do.
"I'm not sure," Seraphina admitted with a small smile. "It just... happens when I focus. It's something I'm still learning to control."
Emily nodded eagerly, her eyes shining with admiration. "Can you teach me? I want to learn how to do that too!"
Seraphina's heart softened at the little girl's enthusiasm. She wished she could say yes, but she knew that this light was something unique to her—a power that had awakened in a moment of crisis. But even if she couldn't teach Emily to harness the light, she could still share the joy of discovering something new.
"Maybe one day," Seraphina said gently. "But for now, I'm still learning too. How about you keep me company while I practice?"
Emily's face lit up with a bright smile, and she eagerly nodded. "Okay!"
The two of them spent the next hour in the garden, with Seraphina quietly practicing her light while Emily watched in fascination. They talked about small things—flowers, stories, and dreams for the future. Emily's presence was a comfort to Seraphina, a reminder that she wasn't alone on this journey.
As the sun began to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the garden, Seraphina finally let the light fade, feeling pleasantly tired from the practice. Emily looked up at her with a wide grin, her excitement still bubbling over.
"Thank you, Seraphina," Emily said earnestly. "For letting me see your light. It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."
Seraphina smiled, her heart swelling with affection for the little girl. "Thank you, Emily. I'm glad you were here with me."
They stood up together, and Seraphina reached down to take Emily's hand as they made their way back to the orphanage. The path ahead was still uncertain, and there were many challenges yet to come, but for the first time, Seraphina felt ready to face them.
With her light by her side, and the support of those who believed in her, Seraphina knew that she could find her place in the world. She wasn't the same girl she had been before the fire. She was stronger now, and she would continue to grow—step by step, day by day.
As they approached the orphanage, Miss Clara was already waiting for them on the steps. Her face, usually so composed, carried a trace of worry that she tried to mask with a smile when she saw Seraphina. Emily, unaware of the undercurrents between the adults, ran ahead and into Miss Clara's arms.
"Did you have fun in the garden, Emily?" Miss Clara asked, her voice gentle as she patted the girl's head.
"Yes!" Emily chirped, her face lighting up. "Seraphina showed me her light! It was amazing!"
Miss Clara's gaze shifted to Seraphina, her eyes searching for something—perhaps reassurance, perhaps confirmation of what she suspected. Seraphina met her eyes, nodding slightly as if to say, *Yes, it's real. I've accepted it.*
Miss Clara nodded back, her expression softening with a touch of pride and concern. She sent Emily inside with a gentle push and then turned her full attention to Seraphina.
"How are you feeling?" Miss Clara asked, her voice low as she reached out to brush a stray lock of hair behind Seraphina's ear.
"I'm… alright," Seraphina replied, though the word felt too simple for the storm of emotions churning inside her. She hesitated, then added, "I'm still trying to make sense of it all."
Miss Clara sighed softly, her eyes filled with understanding. "It's a lot to take in, I know. But you've handled everything with such grace, Seraphina. More than most would."
Seraphina looked down at her hands, still half-expecting them to light up again. "It doesn't feel real sometimes. Like it's happening to someone else. But… I'm trying to accept it. Trying to understand what I'm supposed to do now."
Miss Clara placed a comforting hand on Seraphina's shoulder. "You're doing the best you can, and that's all anyone can ask of you. But you don't have to figure this out alone."
Seraphina frowned slightly, sensing something in Miss Clara's tone. "What do you mean?"
Miss Clara hesitated, her hand slipping from Seraphina's shoulder. "There are some people here to see you. They arrived earlier today."
Seraphina felt a jolt of anxiety in her chest. "Who? Why would anyone come to see me?"
"They're from the Vatican, Seraphina," Miss Clara explained gently. "They heard about what happened and… they believe your quirk is special. They want to talk to you about what comes next."
Seraphina's mind raced at the mention of the Vatican. She knew of them—an organization revered for their knowledge and influence over those with extraordinary abilities, especially those linked to the divine. But she had never imagined they would take an interest in her.
"Why would they come all this way for me?" Seraphina asked quietly, doubt lacing her voice. "I've only just discovered this… power. I barely know how to control it."
Miss Clara gave her a reassuring smile. "That's exactly why they're here, dear. They can help you understand it, help you learn to control it. They've seen abilities like yours before."
Seraphina swallowed hard, a mix of fear and curiosity swirling within her. The thought of leaving the orphanage—her only home—terrified her. But the thought of staying, of not understanding what was happening to her, scared her even more.
"Do I have to talk to them now?" Seraphina asked, her voice small.
Miss Clara shook her head gently. "No, not if you're not ready. But they're patient. They'll wait for you."
Seraphina nodded, grateful for Miss Clara's understanding. "Can… can you stay with me? When I talk to them?"
"Of course," Miss Clara replied, her smile warm and reassuring. "I'll be right there with you."
Seraphina took a deep breath, steadying herself. She wasn't ready, not really. But she knew she couldn't avoid this forever. She needed answers, and maybe, just maybe, the Vatican could provide them.
--
Inside the orphanage, the atmosphere was quieter than usual. The children, usually so noisy and carefree, seemed to sense the tension in the air. They watched Seraphina and Miss Clara with wide eyes as they made their way to the office where the Vatican representatives were waiting.
When they reached the door, Miss Clara paused, giving Seraphina a look that was both encouraging and protective. "Remember, Seraphina, you are in control of this. If you feel overwhelmed, just say the word, and we can take a break."
Seraphina nodded, drawing strength from Miss Clara's presence. Together, they stepped into the room.
The two men inside were a stark contrast to the worn, homely surroundings of the orphanage office. Dressed in crisp, dark suits, they stood as if they carried the weight of authority with them, but their expressions were calm, almost serene. The older man, who introduced himself as Father Sebastian, had sharp features and piercing blue eyes that seemed to take in everything at once. His companion, Father Michael, had a softer demeanor, his eyes kind and understanding.
"Miss Everheart," Father Sebastian began, inclining his head respectfully. "Thank you for agreeing to meet with us. We understand that this is a difficult time for you, and we appreciate your courage in facing it."
Seraphina sat down carefully, feeling small under their gazes. Miss Clara settled beside her, her presence a quiet comfort. "Thank you for coming," Seraphina replied, her voice steady despite the nervous fluttering in her chest. "Miss Clara told me you might be able to help me… understand what's happening."
Father Michael nodded, his eyes full of compassion. "Indeed, Seraphina. The light you wield, the power you've shown—it's a rare gift. One that few possess. We've seen abilities like yours before, connected to something greater than ourselves. Something divine."
The word "divine" hung in the air between them, and Seraphina felt a chill run down her spine. She had felt the power inside her, had seen what it could do, but to hear it described in such terms made it all the more overwhelming.
"Divine?" Seraphina echoed, struggling to grasp the concept. "You think this power… my quirk… comes from something divine?"
Father Sebastian smiled gently. "In many ways, yes. We believe that your gift is meant to bring light into the world, to heal and protect. But such power must be understood and controlled. That's why we're here, Seraphina. To help you learn to use your gift wisely."
Seraphina looked down at her hands, the memory of the light fresh in her mind. "I've only just started to figure it out," she admitted. "I don't know if I'm ready for… all of this."
Father Michael leaned forward slightly, his tone reassuring. "It's okay to feel uncertain, Seraphina. No one expects you to have all the answers right away. That's why we offer guidance, to help you find your path."
Miss Clara squeezed Seraphina's hand gently. "You don't have to decide anything right now, dear. Take your time. Listen to what they have to say, and then make the choice that feels right for you."
Seraphina nodded, feeling a bit more grounded with Miss Clara's words. She turned back to the priests, her voice firmer this time. "What would happen if I go with you?"
Father Sebastian exchanged a glance with Father Michael before responding. "You would be taken to a place where you can study and train. You would learn to control your power, to understand its origins, and to use it for good. You would also receive an education that goes beyond your abilities, preparing you for the responsibilities that come with such a gift."
"Responsibilities?" Seraphina asked, her brow furrowing.
Father Michael smiled softly. "A power like yours has the potential to change lives, Seraphina. To bring hope where there is none. But with that power comes the responsibility to use it wisely, to ensure it helps rather than harms."
The weight of those words settled heavily on Seraphina's shoulders. She had wanted to be something more, to find her place in the world. But this… this was far beyond what she had imagined.
Miss Clara leaned in closer, her presence a steadying force as Seraphina grappled with the enormity of what the priests were saying. "You've always been strong, Seraphina," Miss Clara said softly. "Even when you didn't see it in yourself. I know this is a lot to take in, but you don't have to decide everything at once. Just take it one step at a time."
Seraphina nodded, taking a deep breath. "One step at a time," she repeated, more to herself than anyone else. She looked up at Father Sebastian and Father Michael, determination settling into her features. "I want to understand this power, but… I'm scared. What if I can't control it? What if I hurt someone?"
Father Sebastian's expression softened. "Your fear is natural, Seraphina. It shows that you understand the gravity of what you've been given. But that's why we're here—to guide you, to help you learn control. You won't be alone in this journey."
Father Michael added, "We've seen others with abilities like yours, and many of them felt the same fears you do now. But with time, patience, and the right guidance, they found their way. And we believe you will, too."
Seraphina absorbed their words, her mind turning over everything they had said. The idea of leaving the orphanage, the only home she had ever known, was daunting. But the thought of staying—of ignoring this power and pretending it didn't exist—felt even more terrifying.
"I've always wanted to find my place," Seraphina said quietly, almost to herself. "I've always wanted to be more than just… invisible. But now that I have this chance, I don't know if I'm ready for it."
Miss Clara placed a hand on Seraphina's back, her touch warm and comforting. "You don't have to be ready for everything right now, dear. Just be ready for the next step. The rest will come in time."
Seraphina looked up at Miss Clara, then at the two priests. Their expressions were kind, patient. They weren't rushing her, weren't forcing her into a decision. They were giving her the time she needed to come to terms with everything.
"I'll go with you," Seraphina said finally, her voice steady but laced with uncertainty. "I want to learn. I want to understand this power and… use it for good. But I'm going to need help. A lot of help."
Father Sebastian smiled, a small but genuine expression. "You have made a wise choice, Seraphina. And you will not be alone in this. We will guide you every step of the way."
Father Michael nodded, his eyes filled with warmth. "You're already stronger than you realize, Seraphina. You've faced so much and come through it with grace and courage. That strength will carry you far."
Miss Clara squeezed Seraphina's hand, pride and sadness mingling in her eyes. "You've grown so much, Seraphina. I'm so proud of you."
Seraphina felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them back. There was no turning back now. She had made her decision, and though the path ahead was uncertain, she felt a new resolve within her.
"When do we leave?" she asked, her voice firm.
Father Sebastian inclined his head. "In a few days, once you've had time to rest and prepare. There's no rush."
Miss Clara smiled softly. "I'll help you pack, dear. And remember, no matter where you go, you'll always have a home here."
Seraphina nodded, her heart swelling with gratitude. "Thank you, Miss Clara. For everything."
As the priests stepped back to give her space, Miss Clara stayed by her side, offering quiet support. The future was still a vast unknown, but for the first time, Seraphina felt ready to face it.
--
The next few days passed in a blur as Seraphina prepared for her departure. The Vatican representatives remained at the orphanage, keeping a respectful distance but always available if she had questions. They were patient, never pressuring her, allowing her to come to terms with the changes at her own pace.Word of Seraphina's decision spread quickly through the orphanage, and soon the other children were whispering about her—saddened about her decision to go with their growing friendship just started blooming.
The same children who had accompanied her after the attack, now unsure of how to approach her, Emily who was devastated after hearing she was leaving soon, cried all day for her to stay, Seraphina ever the kind girl she was, reassured her they will see each other again in the future, which she promised.Seraphina noticed the shift in her behavior of acceptance, albeit reluctantly.
She spent most of her time with Miss Clara and Emily, packing her few belongings and savoring their last moments together. The bond they had formed over the past few weeks had been one of the few constants in her life, and the thought of leaving Miss Clara and Emily behind was bittersweet.
On the day of her departure, the atmosphere in the orphanage was solemn. The children, usually so noisy and full of energy, seemed subdued as they watched Seraphina prepare to leave. Miss Clara helped her carry her small suitcase to the front of the building, where Father Sebastian and Father Michael were waiting with a sleek black car.
Emily, who was now crying once again of her departure, hugged her so tight for a few minutes that she thought she would die from the lack of air she is getting. Still, she savored the moment of the little girl who smiled and talked to her occasionally before the incident, after the embrace, Miss Clara pulled Seraphina into a tight embrace, her voice thick with emotion. "You're going to do great things, Seraphina. I know it."
Seraphina clung to Miss Clara, her heart aching at the thought of saying goodbye. "I'll miss you," she whispered, her voice trembling.
Miss Clara brushed a tear from Seraphina's cheek, her smile warm and reassuring. "And I'll miss you, too. But this is your chance to find your place in the world. Don't be afraid to embrace it."
Seraphina nodded, taking a deep breath to steady herself. "I'll do my best."
With one last hug, Miss Clara let her go, stepping back as Father Sebastian and Father Michael approached. They exchanged polite nods with Miss Clara before guiding Seraphina toward the waiting car.
As Seraphina climbed into the car, she cast one last look at the orphanage—the place that had been her home for so long. The building, once a source of pain and isolation, now seemed smaller, a chapter in her life that she was ready to close.
As the car pulled away, Seraphina felt a mix of emotions—fear, excitement, sadness, and hope. The road ahead was uncertain, but it was hers to travel.
And with that, Seraphina, the girl who had once been quirkless, who had been abandoned and overlooked, began her journey toward a future she could never have imagined.
