"Belaflora, it's dinner time! I made your favourite daisy and mushroom cake." Nonna Margherita called out. I heard her from the garden, where I was watering the plants with rosemary tea. Rosemary tea is used for most rose-type flowers. Since it's spring, it's the time when most of our flowers grow. We were going to harvest for the season. She always makes daisy and mushroom cake my birthday. Now that I think about it, I was surprised that she remembered it was my birthday today, let alone what flavour of cake I liked. My grandmother lately has had a hard time with her memory of things. She has been forgetting a lot lately. It makes me feel as if she might forget me one day. I always hope she doesn't.

I never really like to talk to her about it. I don't want her to be in the pain of thinking she is losing me. Even if she can't remember most things, she has never forgotten me. So as much as I worry, I am sure she will not forget me. "I'll be right there, Nonna! Just giving the plants some water," I replied through the leaves back. I write what I want to tell her on the leaves, and she usually always gets my message.

It was weird how I could feel that the forest whispering secrets through the rustling leaves like it was talking to me. Always wanting to tell me something, I walked along the familiar path that led me home. I could feel something mystifying. I could feel the mystical wind brushing against my cheeks, carrying the scent of magic in the air. It made me feel both excited and scared every time, like the whole world was resting on my shoulders, waiting for me to uncover its secrets. My mind was filled with thoughts of the past and the mysteries that surrounded it. I couldn't help but wonder about the things that happened before, the situations that I couldn't understand. Or the problems I couldn't solve.

It felt as if it was a puzzle that I needed to solve. Like finding the missing pieces to complete a picture. Every step I took was filled with anticipation for what the future held. I knew that if I just kept moving forward, I might find the answers I was looking for. As much as it scares me. I know if I leave the past in the past, nothing is going to change.

I'll never be forgiven. I need to find forgiveness, even if it seems impossible. The answers I longed for felt so close, yet so far away. It was like they were teasing me, just beyond my reach. But I wouldn't give up, I definitely could not give up. I would keep searching, keep walking this path, because deep down, I believed that the truth was waiting for me, ready to be discovered.

Entering the quiet solitude of my nonna's house, memories envelop me like a gentle embrace. The walls whisper of laughter and tears, and of a sister lost too soon. It's strange, considering my sister never once visited this house but I can always feel her presence. I find myself glancing at the photographs adorning the hallway-a collage of frozen moments capturing the fleeting joy of a family once whole. But among all those pictures, I've never seen one of myself. It's as if I exist only in the shadows of their memories.

Fiorenza's absence is a void that lingers in every corner, an ache that refuses to be forgotten. I try my best not to tear up, but every time I think of her, tears fall uncontrollably. There is one photo of me and that is with her and me is the only memory I have of us together. It was taken on the day she left this world. The day that I left her world same well was the day that I left my whole world. As I delicately touch the photograph, tracing the outline of our bond, the hollowness inside me grows deeper. Unanswered questions threaten to consume me and just tear me apart.

I very gently and quietly head to my room trying not to disturb my grandmother from her sleep. She called me but I think she went right to bed. My thoughts turn to the mysterious notebook that has become my connection to Fiorenza's voice. It rests on my bedside table, its pages filled with the inked whispers of her soul. I cherish those words as if they were lifelines. Every letter that links her to this book, each sentence a testament to the unbreakable bond that death failed to sever. But there is still so much I don't understand. I can almost hear her words. Her voice through this book. Her calls for help. Is it possible for lost siblings to communicate in such a way, or is it just my grief playing tricks on me?

Lost in contemplation, I'm startled by the creaking sound of my bedroom door. I turn to find my grandmother standing at the threshold, struggling with her wobbly steps. Who could now barely walk at my door, so it was worrying to see her trott around like this. Although sometimes she forgets that she is unable to walk. So she does try with her walker but she still trips and almost falls. I quickly go to her aid, helping her walk to my bed. Her face shows concern, but she assures me that she's fine. Whenever I talk about my sister and if there is anything I could have done to help. Everything she says to me reminds me that I shouldn't burden myself with so much, that I'm too young to bear the weight of it all. Yet, she also reminds me that I'm not alone on this journey if I do want to do something about it. I have no idea how she is going to help or what this journey is.

"Nonna, I'm sorry I woke you up," I whispered softly, my voice filled with genuine remorse. A soft smile graced Nonna's face as she reached out to gently caress my cheek. "Oh, my sweet child, there's no need to apologise. Your presence brings me joy, even in the depths of slumber. Life is full of unexpected moments, and your arrival to this day in my dreams is a precious gift. I am always here for you, ready to listen and offer comfort whenever you need it, whether it is morning or night."

Her words have always washed over me like a comforting embrace, easing the burden of guilt that had settled within my heart. All of her words that she speaks are like warmth to my heart because of how much I admire and love her. At that moment, I realised the depth of Nonna's love and understanding. Just like the many moments I share with her. She was a beacon of support, a sanctuary in the stormy sea of my worries. I nodded, tears welling up in my eyes but also smiling, grateful for her unwavering love.

"Thank you, Nonna. I'm so lucky to have you." I said as Nonna's eyes twinkled with affection as she embraced me in a warm hug. "And I, my darling, am equally fortunate to have you in my life."

"Remember, no matter the challenges we face, we shall face them together, for our love knows no bounds. This means that our strength has no bounds as well." This resonated deep within me, igniting a spark of hope and courage. With Nonna by my side, I felt ready to confront the unknown, delve into the secrets of the past, and embrace the future with complete determination.

There are questions that even if I ask no one knows the answer to. Even my grandmother has a hard time knowing everything. She is wise beyond her years, but her confused mind makes herself to be in question everything as well. I gaze into her eyes, seeking advice in her wisdom.

"Nonna," I begin, my voice vulnerable, "do you truly believe that Fiorenza is reaching out to me through the notebook? Can lost siblings communicate in this sort of way? Could our connections be that powerful? That we can talk to each other?"

My grandmother's eyes soften, and she approaches me, placing a weathered hand on my trembling shoulder. "My dear, the world is vast and mysterious. It holds wonders beyond our comprehension. The bond between siblings is an intense force, one that transcends the barriers of life and death." I nod and she seems too exhausted to say anymore so she gets up to leave.

As she insists on going to take a nap, I offer my help, but she declines, determined to maintain her independence. I watch her slowly and unsteadily stumble away out of my room, always concerned for her but appreciating her bravery. Alone again, I sit on my bed, my mind filled with thoughts and unanswered questions. The notebook, now my diary as well, lies on the side table. My heart longs for answers, for a chance to understand the truth behind my sister's untimely demise. If it holds the key to unlocking the secrets that have haunted me for far too long.

With newfound determination, I clutch the notebook in my hands, feeling its weight and grounding me amidst the whirlwind of emotions. I'm no longer content to dwell in the shadows of uncertainty. It's time to confront the fragmented pieces of my family's shattered past, to unearth the hidden truths buried beneath layers of silence.

My gaze falls upon a family portrait that sits on my bedside table. A captured moment of a time when joy radiated from our every smile. Determination flickers in my eyes as I stare at the photograph. I will find the strength to mend the broken bonds, to heal the wounds that have festered in the depths of our family's history.

Taking a deep breath, I inhale the essence of resilience and hope. The journey ahead will be arduous, filled with obstacles and painful revelations. But I will not falter. Guided by the whispers of my sister's memory, I, Belaflora Silvestri, will step into the unknown, ready to face the mysteries that await me on the path to redemption.

Sitting alone in my room, I trace the faded pages of the shared notebook, connecting me to a world I once thought was lost forever. The weight of my sister's absence burdens my heart, and I yearn for the comfort our connection provides. Childhood remnants surround me-the tattered teddy bear on the shelf, and the colourful drawings on the walls from my past. All things that are mine, but remind me of my sister. Beneath this facade of innocence lies a world plagued by shadows, secrets, and unanswered questions that I don't know about. It's a childhood that I wanted with her a childhood that we missed.

Glancing at the clock on my bedside table, I realise it's almost midnight-the bewitching hour when the veil between the living and the departed thins. This is the time when I'm forbidden to go outside. With trembling fingers, I open the notebook and begin to write, my pen dancing across the page. "Fiorenza, my dearest sister," I ink the words, my hand quivering. "I feel your presence in the deepest recesses of my soul. It has been ten long years since you were taken from me, and the emptiness I carry is unbearable." As I pour my heart onto the paper, I can almost hear Fiorenza's gentle laughter and feel her warm presence. For these ten years, I've been writing to her, hoping for a reply. Of course, I never get one, but one can hope.

The notebook is my lifeline, a flickering flame of hope in the encroaching darkness. I confide in its pages, sharing the secrets locked within me, yearning for my sister's guidance. Exhaustion takes over, and I decide to take a nap, the sound of a nearby water stream providing a brief interruption to my thoughts. The gentle water always makes me drift off. I fall asleep in the hope of waking up in a better world.

A few hours later....

Closing the notebook and carefully stowing it away in a hidden compartment, I wiped away any traces of tears that betrayed my emotions. With a forced smile, I open my bedroom door and descend the stairs, greeted by the comforting aroma of my grandmother's homemade pasta sauce. The Silvestri household, once brimming with warmth and laughter when my sister was alive and I was with my parents. At least then, we were happy in a way. Now held together by fragile threads, consisting only of my grandmother and me.

Once I sit at the dinner table, I can't help but wonder about the hidden truths that lie beneath the surface of our family's history. I long to mend the broken bonds and heal the wounds that have festered for far too long. Taking a deep breath, I inhale the essence of resilience and hope, determined to confront the challenges that lie ahead.

Guided by the whispers of my sister's memory and my grandmother's unwavering support, I know I'm not alone on this journey. With unwavering determination, I will step into the unknown, ready to face the mysteries that await me. It won't be an easy road, but I refuse to falter. I will uncover the truth and find the redemption we so desperately need.

"Nonna, the plants are almost ready to be harvested. It's because of your hard work." I praised her.

"The plants? Oh yes, they are growing nicely, not because of me. We both worked hard. Suppose you had not come all those years ago. I do not know what I would have done without you, Bela." said Nonna, shaking her head. She obviously did not want to think about a life without me; she smiled while setting the cake on the wooden and creaking table.

I am pretty sure that our house was made decades ago. The bricks were cracking, and the floor had holes in new areas every day, but I loved it here. It was my home for the ten years I lived here. I never would want to stay anywhere else. I could barely make out where I lived the place before I lived here-the foggy memory of the home with my parents.

Nonna said that those were people who had adopted me. It was odd how I felt some sort of connection to them. Like I was related to them somehow. It was a strange feeling because I had a memory of a baby who was my sister and I saw them. How was that possible? How could I have known a memory from a part of your life you do not remember? Also, the pictures of the young girl on the walls sorta looked like my 'adoptive' mom. Although I could never remember clearly what they looked like. But I also know they left me here, as much as I love my Nonna. They left me here like I was some worthless piece of invaluable nothingness. It was like I was nothing to them. They just blamed me for something I did not do.

"There we go, all done. Fifteen candles for your fifteenth birthday." said Nonna, and then she muttered, "Hmm, we're missing something." Well, she did get my age wrong. She was close. I'm turning sixteen, but there is something else missing I thought.

"I think I know what it is." I pointed to the unlit candles, and she said, "That's right, Lightning, come here," she gestured to our pet dragon/slug.

His name was Lightning, and whenever we needed to light a candle, he would light it for us. Nonna picked him up, and he blew light jolts out of his mouth. It was kind of gross, but at least the slobber did not touch the cake. He was too cute to be called something disgusting, though. He was like a puppy. He was white with black spikes on the top of his body, and his bottom was like a slug or a snail. But he had wings like a dragon and could shoot light out of his mouth. I've heard that dragons can breathe fire and read stories of all kinds of magical beings. Lightning can't do that; he can only give out lightning bolts.

"Now that the candles are lit, you should blow them out. Make a wish when you do. Make a magnificent one." reminded Nonna Margherita.

"A magnificent wish? How do I do that?" I asked.

"Bela, my dear. Hope for something you really want. You only turn sixteen once in a lifetime. Wish for it with your whole heart. I'm confident that it will come true." Nonna said.

She did know how old I am turning or maybe just now remembered. "Once in a lifetime, yeah. I guess." I agreed, and there is one thing that I want-more than anything. I want to know why my sister died, how she died so suddenly and unexpectedly. So I wished for a clue about it. I wished that maybe I could fix my past, and I blew on the candles.

The lights went out, and the whole room became dark. Then my mind was filled with memories and events that were not my own. There was so much scrambling in my brain. This happened when I came here with memories in my head. The day my sister died. The day that everything in my life changed. I had to focus on a memory that would be helpful, so I tried to pinpoint one thing. When I did, it was a voice that I recognized the instant I heard it.

"Sorella, help me!" Only for a moment, I heard my sister's voice. From concentrating on that one thing, my grandma's voice broke my concentration, and it was gone. I gasped because I had never heard my sister's voice before. That clearly even.

"So what did you wish for?" asked Nonna Margherita, intrigued to know what she did wish for. She looked worried. My brain gets back from being fuzzy, "My child, what happened? You look terrible. Your face has gone pale." said Nonna Margherita while studying the state I was in.

"Thank you for telling me I look terrible Nonna. I'm sorry, it's nothing, just a spell. I've got a small headache from being outside for so long. It's made me exhausted," I mumbled. Nonna Margherita looked at the cake that got smushed and then at me and said, "Don't worry, you don't have to eat this right now. How about you get some rest, then I'll make a fresh one."

"No, Nonna, you made this with so much love that I wouldn't want it to go to waste. I'm so happy about this and glad that you worked hard. It's not every day that you eat dessert for dinner," I grinned as I told her in a voice that comforted her. That said to her that she had a granddaughter who would be there with her throughout anything and eat a cake that didn't look appetizing anymore. "No, no, you deserve happiness. If eating this cake makes you happy, so be it. I will make it until the day I leave this world. Also, I made you some tomato leaf soup pasta, and I forgot the other thing you like. So I made you this."

"Nonna, you've gotta be easy on yourself. Even if it's my birthday, I would rather that you...." I started to say, but then Nonna interrupted me by wheeling herself in her wheelchair towards me and hugging me. Then she put her thin, wrinkly fingers around the sides of my face, then she pulled my head down and kissed my forehead. "Happy birthday, my sweet child, and may all of your wishes come true, it's no trouble truly," Nonna said.

After a second of both of us not speaking a word, I cut the cake and got a piece for my grandmother and myself. Lightning was eyeing the cake, so, of course, I had to give him a slice of it. The daisy, flowery cream icing was so silky smooth, and the white mushroom cake flavour was delicious even if looked not good. It tasted damn delicious. On every birthday and year, it was a simple life for me. With my favourite cake and my favourite person and creature. My Nonna Margherita and Lightning, but then there was one thing missing. Every year, something was missing, and I did not know what it was. But this year, I got a clue. I knew where to look for it and what it was. Whatever it was that I was missing, I knew that I had to find it. This had to be done or else our whole world would go down in flames. The world could be destroyed and I had to find out how to stop it from happening.