night 0. grandfather's gift
The next evening you gather the family together in one of the parlors, grandfather's favorite. The two of you built it together back when the manor was being renovated. It had been one of your grandfather's whims to have a grand parlor created entirely by the two of you. Because of that it had taken ages to complete as his attention fluttered from one thing to the other, caught by every new interest that flit his way.
Which did explain the butterflies, you considered thoughtfully.
Your influence remains in their appearance, diamond bright wings in layered rich blue. They contrast deeply with the night black walls and their glowing constellations. The butterflies dance in the air, leaving trails of shining powder behind them. They land on the planets and moons that float leisurely around the parlor, each within their own orbit.
"Our little star," your uncle says, escorting you to one of the high-backed chairs. "It has been lovely to have you here, but we know you must leave soon. Your work is so busy, after all. It's just that — your grandfather..."
He pats your hand as he takes his own seat and sighs with deep melancholy. It is only a little bit exaggerated as there is sincerity in his eyes even as the flames flickering within them tip more towards blue than red. He coughs, dodging your amused eyes even as he continues.
You decide to spare him.
"Yes, what about grandfather?" you say kindly. "It was really too much of him to leave without a word, even to you all."
Your uncle coughs even louder, guilty, and one of your cousins comes by to put him out of his misery not missing the chance to pat his back with much more force than needed. "Aw starshine, don't worry about it. You know what the old man is like after all. In 'n out as he pleases."
"Besides," he continues, "The old man's probably living it up somewhere warm and toasty. Maybe he's bought a castle or four?"
He gives a leisurely shrug. "Anyway, by the time we found out he was long gone. We just thought you'd worry too much. You know, with everything on your plate last solstice?"
Oh. A clue! You make a mental note with the intention of doing a check of manor activities during the solstice. You might as well review the last few as well, all the way up to a decade just to be thorough. It'll turn up something for sure. You turn your attention back to your cousin and notice he hasn't missed your moment of absentmindedness, offering you a sharp-toothed smile.
You smile back and say, "I know I spend too much time in my tower but really, a letter would have sufficed." Here you pause, before continuing. You want them to understand this. "It's no disturbance if it's family after all. Who am I for, if not you all?"
Although your face is the way it is, you know they can see you mean it. Your sincerity is clear in your voice and eyes, no matter how even-toned you may sound. Those closest to you have always been able to see through you after all. Still, your words add joy to the room. The happiness is almost palpable, streaming out like ribbons of light.
The light-hearted chatter in the room increases.
"Well yes dear, we know that. We've never doubted it for a second. But you work much too hard! Must you trouble yourself this way?"
The agreement to this statement is unanimous. There are a few shifty eyes among the crowd as they get to the point.
"And we know grandfather has caused you trouble this time! It will be hard on you to track him down. Goodness knows how far he's gone and where. He did leave a letter if it helps but not in the manor."
"No?" you say, somewhat intrigued. "Where did he leave it then?"
Another burst of whispers.
"Well before that, little star we know you're quite busy, especially this time of your year. We couldn't, in good conscience, send you off on a wild goose chase with so much on your plate."
"Yes, exactly starling! But we know you'd go after him anyways so why not take some time off to do so?"
The suggestion is given by your uncle who is wringing a scarf between his hands, his eyes twinkling and bright. The scarf produces more scarves and spills a long rope of silk across the floor, each section a different color. His suggestion is echoed by the surrounding family members at once, as if they were just waiting for him to say it.
For all you know, they could have divided themselves into troops, each with a different piece of persuasion to offer. Your relatives are good at this game but you're better. But with all the effort they've put in, it would be unfair not to reward them.
"What do you suggest I do then?" you ask.
There's a smattering of conversation and a few hushed mumbles. No-one answers yet. One of your aunts comes by and deposits a nephew in your arms with a smile. Another bustles over with a cup of tea and drops a kiss onto your forehead before she retreats.
The tea is accompanied by a plate of cookies, one of which you offer to your nephew. Happy sparks bounce from his mop of curls as he beams up at you from around the cookie. A dab of melted chocolate has already made its way across his cheek. You wipe it off with gentle hands and he giggles as you dance starlight across his cheeks and it fizzes against his skin.
Your niece reappears and crawls into your lap, toffee in hand. This is open bribery and you know it well. You can't really be mad about it. Your family seems determined to continue this song and dance to their grand finale. Although playing against you makes them poor actors, with all the nervous fluttering and dodgy whispers, as expected they hold steady and finish the plot to its end.
If grandfather's letter is anywhere, it must be at his last house, someone says with a light laugh. You sigh to yourself. Even if you are gone most of the time, grandfather is still the patriarch. At this age, shouldn't he be done with running away from home? It's because you've indulged him too much, you lament. Your family restrains their laughter with great effort.
"Where is this house?" you ask.
And more importantly: "How long will it take me to get to it?"
Your cousin pounces on this question just like you knew he would, cheshire grin growing beyond the boundaries of his face.
"It's going to take a while, starshine. We think he's been bouncing between estates. Could be a while before you track him down?"
He gives you a sly smile and finally says what your family has been trying to say and tiptoeing around this whole time. "Why don't you take some time off before you look for him?"
[ ]
This is how you find yourself, four weeks later, having gone through the archives of your grandfather's office and his empty estates one by one. The worry increases with every dead end you hit until you finally end up at the seaside, glass talisman shattering as you step onto golden sand. You pass through Pelican Town like a harried ghost, black skirts swirling around you, parasol trembling faintly in your hand. Startled eyes watch you pass by like a cloud of smoke.
There is so much dead noise here it scratches under your skin. Something here is discordant, whining out of tune, and it is hurting the town. Draining the inhabitants. A parasitic being, most likely. You have no time to look into it. This is not where you need to be. They'll call someone to help the people regain themselves soon anyways. Proper battlemages, not you. You leave as quickly as you can.
This isn't what you're here for.
Starthistle Farm says the signpost. It's leaning on its side, wood splintered from direct impact.
The heat is overwhelming, spring melting into sticky summer. In front of you looms a desolate land, with whole sections of the land ravaged by destruction.
There is half a house left, perched precariously on a wobbly hill. From the southwest you can feel the odd crackle of magic spiking, hostile and wary but still within its bounds. From the northeast there a faint glimmer of green magic withering away. The old man who escorts you through the ruins of farmland you never knew Grandfather even had looks guilty.
"This used to be a wonderful place," he tells you. "Your Grand loved it here and was loved in turn. But in the end —,"
He sighs sadly and you feel a heavy lump in your throat. Your words curl up on your tongue and die. You know how deeply your grandfather loves. How much he cares. What happened here to make him give up and leave? Why did he never tell you?
There is nothing else for you to do now. This place has been so thoroughly destroyed it will take a miracle to fix it. A miracle and time. Time you do not have because your grandfather still needs to be found. Because you still have work, still have the council's requests to awkwardly juggle, still have your tower brimming over with projects that need a delicate touch, still have your family to safeguard.
But you open your mouth and you say words that you're barely aware of saying. Words that never should have been said.
"I'll take it from here."
*a/n: seirios's name hasn't actually been mentioned in-story yet but its seirios and not S̴͎̜̀T̷̨̧͇̳̃͋̂̈́́͜͝A̸͍̙͕̖̪̤̜͓͐͊̐͒̇͆̆̌͋̂͘R̷̡̫̦̣̜̱̖̝̒͘ͅͅE̸͎̗͎̦̲̗̤̤̦̫̤͍̋̏̉̆̏̊̋͆͝Á̸̧͍͔͎̺̝̱̦͉̦̫̮̤̻̃̽͘͠T̶̙̪̘̜̘̝̄̈́͂̌̇̂̾͐͐͠ͅȨ̵͔̠̪͕̟͔̖̘̋̔̒͊̾̀̊͗̑̃̉̔̈́̋͜͠ͅŔ̴̙̯̲͌̐̓͘̕ . seirios mori is what she's called. just a perfectly ordinary farmer, taking over a perfectly ordinary farm, living next to a perfectly ordinary seaside town ::)