« Plus doucement. » (More gently.) Marcelle said.
She placed her hand over Nimue's, her warm, calloused fingers guiding the fork through the thick egg yolks.
Nimue slowed down until the mixture stopped splashing against the chipped porcelain rim of the bowl. Marcelle gave an approving nod, took the bowl from her, and poured the eggs into a heavy iron pan where the butter was already hissing and bubbling.
« Tu vois? Il ne faut pas les brûler. Doucement. » (You see? You must not burn them. Gently.)
Nimue watched as the eggs gradually turned into something soft and yellow. Her stomach rumbled loudly.
Marcelle chuckled, the corners of her eyes crinkling.
« Tu as faim. Alors, va t'asseoir. C'est bientôt prêt. » (You are hungry. Go sit down, then. It will be ready soon.)
Nimue climbed down from the stool. Cinder followed her to the table and settled at her feet, his amber eyes fixed expectantly on the floor.
The rest of the family was already there.
Jane was pouring coffee, its rich aroma spreading through the room, while Jack read the front page of a newspaper someone had left on the table. His black hair, marked by its distinctive white streak, was still slightly messy from sleep. Saoirse rested her chin on one hand, her eyes half-closed with lingering drowsiness.
Étienne came in from the yard, his heavy boots sounding loudly against the stone floor. He was carrying several warm loaves from the village bakery. The rich smell of freshly baked bread filled the kitchen almost immediately.
« Il y a du monde qui arrive. J'ai vu la cheminée verte. » (We have visitors arriving. I saw the green flames in the fireplace.)
Jane looked up from her coffee, her green eyes sharpening.
« Déjà? » (Already?)
The Floo hearth was in the sitting room at the front of the house. Nimue had noticed its wide stone opening and heavy copper hood the previous evening, but it had been dark and cold then.
Now she heard a sudden rush of sound, low and deep, like wind blowing through a stone tunnel. She slipped off her chair and hurried toward it, her socks sliding slightly across the polished floor.
The flames were still settling when she reached the doorway. Green sparks scattered across the stone before fading into ash.
Lucien stepped out first, brushing a stray speck of soot from his sleeve. He wore a thick gray wool coat and dark trousers rather than wizarding robes. His hair was a little longer than Nimue remembered.
« Bonjour, petite. » He smiled and crouched to her height.
Nimue went straight to him. He opened his arms and drew her into a warm embrace, holding her for a moment.
« Tu as grandi. » (You have grown.) His voice had a melodic rhythm to it, almost as though his words carried a tune of their own.
« Je sais. »
He laughed softly, the sound just as melodic as his voice.
Celestine emerged from the flames next, wearing an indigo coat with its collar turned up against the draft. Her hair was pinned back neatly, not a single strand out of place. The moment she saw Nimue, her expression softened.
« Ma chérie. » She reached out and gently touched Nimue's cheek with her cool hand. « Tu as bonne mine. » (You look well.)
Raphaël and Luelle came through together. Luelle's red coat stood out brightly against the gray stone, while Raphaël wore a blue jumper with the sleeves pushed up.
« On a apporté du pain. » (We brought bread.) Luelle held up a grease-spotted paper bag. « De la boulangerie près du château. Les meilleurs croissants. » (From the bakery near the château. The best croissants.)
Marcelle appeared in the kitchen doorway, still holding a spatula.
« Vous tombez bien. Le petit déjeuner est prêt. » (You have perfect timing. Breakfast is ready.)
The table soon became crowded with people. Chairs scraped against the floor, silverware clinked, and conversations overlapped as everyone found a place.
Lucien sat beside Jane, with Celestine across from him next to Jack. Raphaël and Luelle squeezed into the spaces between Saoirse and Étienne.
Chloé passed the bread basket around, while Margot poured cider from a large ceramic pitcher. Nimue sat between her mother and Marcelle, with Cinder waiting patiently beneath her chair.
Lucien broke off a piece of bread and turned toward Nimue.
« On m'a dit que les phénix avaient répondu. Les deux. » (I was told the phoenixes responded. Both of them.)
Jane nodded.
« Glacial et Vide. Elles ont trouvé leur place. Elles ne se battent pas. » (Glacial and Void. They have found their place. They aren't fighting.)
« Et ton corps? » (And your body?) Celestine asked, keeping her gaze on her granddaughter. « Tu te sens bien? » (Do you feel well?) `
Nimue chewed her bread and swallowed before answering.
« Oui. Le froid est là. Mais il ne fait pas mal. » (Yes. The cold is there. But it doesn't hurt.)
Luelle reached across the table and gently touched Nimue's hand.
« Tu es courageuse, ma puce. » (You are brave.)
Nimue shrugged. She didn't feel particularly brave. She was simply hungry.
She reached for the eggs.
Meanwhile, Raphaël asked Jack about their journey and the road conditions. Jack answered in slow, careful French while Lucien listened with his chin resting on one hand.
« Elle a dormi pendant deux jours, mais après ça, elle courait partout. » (She slept for two days, but after that, she was running everywhere.) Jane added with a smile, glancing at her daughter.
Lucien nodded and looked toward Nimue, who was currently busy slipping a piece of bread crust to Cinder beneath the table.
« Elle a de la chance. » (She is lucky.) He said it in his usual melodic voice.
« Ce n'est pas de la chance. C'est sa nature. » (It isn't luck. It's her nature.) Celestine replied.
Luelle reached over and took a small piece of bread from Nimue's plate, watching her with an affectionate smile.
« Tu as vraiment grandi. L'année dernière, tu avais la moitié de cette taille. » (You have really grown. Last year, you were half this size.)
« Je vais bientôt être plus grande que toi. » (I will soon be taller than you.) Nimue declared.
Luelle laughed.
« Pas si vite. » (Not so fast.)
Celestine watched Nimue eat for a moment, her green eyes thoughtful.
« Tu as vu Fleur, à Paris. » (You saw Fleur in Paris.)
Nimue stopped chewing immediately.
« Oui. »
« Elle est gentille? » (Is she kind?)
« Oui. Elle est belle. » (Yes. She is beautiful.)
Celestine smiled.
« Comme sa mère. » (Like her mother.)
After breakfast, Marcelle shooed everyone out of the kitchen so she could wash the dishes. Nimue went outside with her grandparents. The winter air was crisp and clean, and Cinder immediately raced ahead through the bare vineyards, his tail held high.
The vineyards stretched down the slope in long, orderly rows. Their leafless vines looked dark and twisted against the pale sky. Cinder ran ahead, circled back with his tail wagging, then darted forward again. Her grandparents walked beside her, their coats buttoned up to their chins.
« Tu aimes la campagne? » (Do you like the countryside?) Lucien asked.
« Oui. C'est calme. » (Yes. It's quiet.)
« Pas comme Paris. » (Not like Paris.)
« Paris est bruyant. Mais j'ai bien aimé Paris. » (Paris is noisy. But I liked Paris.)
Lucien didn't ask her why. He simply continued walking beside her in silence, his footsteps crunching against the cold earth.
« La mer te manque? » (Do you miss the sea?) Celestine asked.
Nimue thought about Normandy, the boats rocking in the harbor, and the gulls calling endlessly above the water.
« Un peu. »
They stopped at the edge of the vineyard, where the vines grew low and twisted. A bird perched on a wooden post at the end of one row.
« Les raisins poussent quand? » (When do the grapes grow?) Nimue asked.
« Au printemps. Dans quelques mois. Tu verras les premières feuilles. » (In the spring. In a few months. You will see the first leaves.)
« Je ne serai pas là au printemps. » (I won't be here in the spring.)
« Tu reviendras. Un jour. » (You will come back. One day.)
Nimue looked at the vines. They appeared dead and brittle, but she knew they were only waiting for warmer weather.
After a little while, they turned back toward the house.
. . .
Lunch consisted of thick soup, crusty bread, and sharp cheese. Luelle told a funny story about a stray cat that had climbed into her car and refused to leave. Raphaël interrupted to correct a detail, so Luelle playfully threw a piece of bread at him. It hit his chest and fell onto the table.
Marcelle shook her head at their antics, although she was clearly amused.
After the meal, Celestine stood and adjusted her coat.
« Il faut qu'on parte. On a des choses à faire au château. » (We have to leave. We have things to take care of at the château.)
Lucien gently placed a hand on Nimue's head.
« On se reverra bientôt, petite. » (We will see each other soon.)
« Quand? »
« Au printemps. Pour ton anniversaire. » (In the spring. For your birthday.)
Nimue nodded.
They went into the sitting room, where the fire in the Floo hearth was already burning brightly. Celestine stepped into the fireplace first. The flames turned brilliant green and swallowed her from sight. Lucien followed, then Luelle.
Raphaël paused before entering and looked back at Nimue.
« Tu écris à Fleur? » (Are you writing to Fleur?)
« Oui. »
« Bien. Elle va être contente. » (Good. She will be happy.)
He stepped into the flames and disappeared.
The emerald fire gradually settled, and the room fell quiet again. Nimue stood there for a moment, looking at the empty hearth, before returning to the kitchen.
Jane was still sitting at the table with a half-finished cup of tea.
"Maman."
Jane looked up. "Yes?"
"I want to write to Big Sister."
Jane put down her cup and opened a drawer near the window. She took out a sheet of thick paper and an envelope. The paper was cream-colored, while the envelope had a soft blue lining.
She sat back down, and Nimue climbed onto the chair beside her.
"What would you like to say?" Jane asked, uncapping her pen.
Nimue thought for a moment, looking through the window at the gray, dormant vineyards.
"Tell her we arrived at Clairval."
Jane began writing in her neat, even handwriting. The nib scratched softly against the paper.
"Tell her there are vineyards. Lots of vineyards. And it's cold."
Jane continued writing.
"Tell her Marcelle makes hot chocolate."
Jane glanced up, her green eyes softening.
"And then?"
Nimue pressed her lips together. She thought about the glittering market lights in Paris and the warmth of Fleur's hand in hers.
"Tell her I'm thinking of her."
Jane's pen paused briefly before moving again.
"Tell her that..." Nimue stopped, her gaze settling on her mother's hand. "I miss her. I want her to miss me, too."
Jane looked at her, the pen hovering above the cream-colored paper.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
Jane wrote the final words. Her expression remained composed, though something shifted behind her eyes.
Nimue watched the pen closely until Jane finished the last stroke.
"Can you read it?"
Jane cleared her throat and began reading aloud.
« Chère Grande sœur,
Nous sommes arrivées à Clairval. Il y a beaucoup de vignes et il fait froid. La grand-tante de maman, Marcelle, fait du chocolat chaud. Je pense à toi. Tu me manques. Tu me manques aussi, d'accord? »
(Dear Big Sister,
We have arrived at Clairval. There are many vineyards, and it's cold. Mama's great-aunt, Marcelle, makes hot chocolate. I'm thinking of you. I miss you. You should miss me too, okay?)
Jane paused at the final sentence. Her voice hadn't changed, but her eyes remained on the paper a little longer than necessary.
Nimue didn't notice.
"It's good," she said. "I will sign it."
Jane handed her the pen. Nimue held it carefully in her small hand, her knuckles turning white as she tried to form the letters.
They came out large and crooked.
Nimue
She looked at her name with satisfaction.
"Good."
Jane folded the letter and slipped it into the envelope. She sealed it with a drop of plain red wax.
"Do you want to send it now?"
"Yes."
. . .
The yard was cold, and the wind had picked up, pushing heavy gray clouds across the sky. Nimue held the stiff envelope in both hands.
A post owl was perched on the roof of the barn, watching her with bright yellow eyes as it slowly turned its head. Marcelle had told her that it came every afternoon to collect letters and carry them to their destinations.
Jane stood behind Nimue with her hands tucked into her pockets.
"Tie it on, then put the letter in the pouch," she instructed.
Nimue walked toward the owl. The bird remained still, its sharp claws gripping the wooden post. She reached up and carefully slipped the envelope into the leather pouch attached to its leg.
The owl turned its head, its beak catching the dull winter light.
Nimue stepped back.
"It will leave when it's ready," Jane said.
Nimue watched the bird. It blinked once, spread its wings, and lifted into the air. The wind caught it, pushing it sideways before it found its balance. It flew low over the twisted vineyards, then gradually climbed higher into the sky.
Nimue watched until it became a tiny speck and finally disappeared.
"Will she receive it?" she asked.
Jane placed a hand on her daughter's shoulder.
"Oui. In a few days." (Yes.)
Nimue looked up at the sky, where the clouds were moving quickly overhead.
"I want her to write back."
"She will."
Nimue nodded and turned toward the house. The cold air felt sharp in her lungs. Cinder ran ahead, his tail raised and his ears twitching in the wind.
She kept her eyes on the path, already imagining the moment Fleur's reply would arrive.
===
There's images below,
Plus bonus Char Sheet for cinder in the comment section
---
I want to share something exciting to you guys.
I've been doing some fine tuning about the events for next year. The "flags" and their consequences will span almost a whole year. I was so excited that ideas kept pouring into my mind. I kept writing, writing, writing until it turned into a huge wall of text. I was too manic to untangle it myself, so I actually asked Claude to sort it out and make bullet points for me. LOL.
So yeah, this arc is going to be grand in a certain sense. I keep re-reading it again and again, and I still let out some silly laughs thinking about how good my brain hole was (lol).
But now, after calming down a little, I'm kind of nervous. I'm scared that I won't be able to bring these ideas to life as excellently as they appear in my mind. I mean, this arc is the most important one. It's the first "anchor," the "foundation" of this entire story. And honestly, I feel scared and nervous about it, but also this strange sense of anticipation to finally be able to present it to you guys.
We will also get a new character appearing in this arc: Nicholas Flamel!
I already added his image in the "Pictures" section, so you can visit it and look for him. Please remember that in my story, Evans and Flamel are the same bloodline — both of them are the LeFay, the brother side and the sister side. And LeFay is a matriarchal family. Plus, LeFay ages more slowly compared to other olde ones. That's why in my story, Nicholas will appear like he's in his late 50s and still radiant. He will be another key character in this arc.
Oh, I also added two more images! Aldric and his wife Seraphina (Jack's parents). What I added is their 3D version — the human version. You can check those out too.
I hope this news hypes you up just as much as I'm hyped for the next arc!