1705. Luck had never been on Eleanora Finley's side. After her father died in a tragic fire, she was left at the mercy of her domineering and abusive mother, being deprived of all love and affection.
Truly, who would have thought that the simple red...
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1715, Isles of Vitale, Ravaeryn
Three years later...
A young woman sat quietly at a table outside the inn, staring off into the distance, watching the sun set over the distant hills. The sky above her was slowly turning into brilliant shades of orange and purple, as the day finally drew to a close. It was the moment that she had been waiting for, to capture the beauty of the setting sun on canvas.
In the past three years, Eleanora, along with her adoptive parents, Master and Madame Lovett, had travelled through Ravaeryn, visiting all the places where Eleanora had wanted to go to. They stayed in the finest inns, ate the tastiest food that the locals had to offer, and feasted their eyes on the most scenic of views. She had finally seen the ocean with her own two eyes, to witness the vivid emerald waters, and to feel the waves crashing underneath her feet. She had seen the sprawling mountains of Levere, where the winds whipped and tore at her, and the mountains themselves looked as though they could collapse at any moment, crumbling down onto the rocky shoreline below.
And she had immortalised them, these beautiful sights, in her paintings. Her greatest wish came true, she thought. She was free from those who attempted to use her to their own benefit, and she could spend her days painting to her heart's content.
The waves crashed in the distance as the sun disappeared into the horizon, giving way to the darkness of night. Eleanora sighed as she dropped her paintbrush into the jar of water.
Although this was a life that many would envy, it somehow felt lacklustre to her. And that confused her. Was this not what she had always wanted? They would remain in a town for a month at most, before Master Lovett would ask her where she would like to go next, and soon, they would be on the road. At first, it was exhilarating, but eventually, the initial excitement faded, and Eleanora felt fatigued instead. She felt like a nomad, always on the run, without a place to return to, without a place she belonged to.
"What a lovely painting, Nora dearest," said an amused voice behind her. Turning around, she smiled brightly as she saw the familiar face of Madame Lovett, who had just returned to the inn, holding a large basket filled with baked pastries. "What are you going to call it?"
"Peractio," Eleanora replied softly. "The sunset marks the end of the day, and all the pains and woes that you culminated in the day will fade away in the darkness of the night. Peractio, the end, the completion."
Madame Lovett raised an eyebrow sceptically. "That is quite different from what you usually name them. What is with the sudden change?"
Eleanora chuckled quietly, and then turned back toward the view of the sea in the distance. "It signifies the completion of an era, mother. After this trip, let us return home. To Raevigny."
