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Journey to Happiness

Journey to Happiness

rose saniel

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In a world divided by class and privilege, two girls from starkly different backgrounds are intertwined by ambition and circumstance. Zazriel, a kind-hearted orphan with dreams of a better life, discovers a wounded knight named Troi, whose true identity as Commander Drake remains a secret. As Zazriel cares for him, she is drawn into a world of nobility and sacrifice, yearning to help her orphanage while finding her own path.Meanwhile, Elza, once an orphan like Zazriel, has transformed into Lady Elza Bloise after being adopted by a wealthy count and countess. With her sights set on becoming the center of high society, Elza navigates the treacherous waters of noble life, mastering etiquette and forging alliances while concealing her ruthless ambition. As their journeys unfold, Zazriel and Elza's paths may converge in unexpected ways, testing their strength, morals, and the true meaning of friendship, love and power in a world where nothing is as it seems. Will they uplift each other or become rivals in a quest for identity, love and success?

Chapter 1 The Given name

In the dim light of dawn, the small village of Ellsmere lay silent, cloaked in fog. Outside the gates of St. Haven's Orphanage, a bundle rested against the iron bars. Sister Miriam, shuffling through her morning rounds, stopped dead in her tracks when she spotted it.

"A baby..." she whispered to herself, bending down. Carefully, she lifted the bundle and unwrapped a bit of the soft cloth. There, nestled within, was a tiny girl with the biggest, brightest eyes she had ever seen. But her gaze wasn't one of fear. It was as if she knew this was where she was meant to be.

"What a precious little thing," came the soft voice of Sister Anne, who had come to see what the commotion was about.

"I wonder who left her here," Sister Miriam murmured. "No note, no name. Just... her." She cradled the baby close, and the little one stirred, one hand reaching up as if grasping for something in a dream.

"We must call her something. We can't just have her grow up as 'the foundling'," Sister Anne mused thoughtfully, her brow creasing.

Sister Miriam's eyes drifted to the delicate purple flower tucked into the baby's blanket-small and unassuming, yet vibrant and full of life.

"Do you remember this flower?" she asked, brushing her fingertips over the bloom's petals. "An old soul, like an echo from another time... I think it's called a Zazriel. A forgotten bloom, like her."

"Zazriel." Sister Anne tried the name on her tongue, and the two women shared a glance. It was as if the name itself had been waiting to be spoken. The baby seemed to sense it, her little fingers curling and her eyelids fluttering.

"Then she shall be Zazriel," Sister Miriam said, smiling. "A rare, precious bloom. Even if the world has forgotten her, she is here now. And we'll remember."

And with that, Zazriel was welcomed into her new world, though neither Sister Miriam nor Sister Anne could have known the path that lay before her.

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