-One Thousand and Twelve Years Ago-

"There you are, my girl!"

"Papa!"

Elodie leapt forward and embraced her father, a bright smile tugging at her face. His arms wrapped around her small figure and held her tight—he smelled of the sea and vanilla and cotton, none of which were any surprise. He'd likely spent the last two weeks or so sailing upon the ocean; and her father had never been a stranger to personal pride and hygiene.

For a moment the two remained this way, simply glad to see one another after Tobias Lancaster had been a long time away. But before Elodie could ask anything regarding his journey, her mother's voice exclaimed, "Out of the way, Elodie."

The young woman pouted, but did as she was bade. Her mother took her place in her father's arms.

"Lysandra," murmured her father, kissing her softly upon the cheek.

"Any news?" Lysandra whispered, her silver eyes wide.

Elodie's father paused for only the briefest of moments before shaking his head. His voice was grave as he answered, "No joy, my love."

Elodie slumped slightly, as did her mother. She knew that her father had been sailing abroad, looking for someone that could tell him why his body was failing. All of the healers, all of the doctors, were stumped. There was no reason for why he was dying; and so there was no medicine to save him.

But Tobias, despite this quandary, remained cheerful and loving. He claimed there was no use worrying about something that couldn't be changed—that all he could do, and all he would worry about, was how to spend the remaining time that was given to him.

His mindset revealed itself once again as, with a wry smile, he pulled Elodie close to him and promised, "There is still plenty of time to search and to spend with my lovely family. Not to mention, my Lady Lancaster, that I am not going to be going anywhere without a fight."

Elodie smiled somewhat at this. Her father always knew what to say to make someone smile or feel better.

Her mother, however, did not seem as comforted. With a furrow in her brow, Lysandra quietly asked, "You won't give up, Tobias? You will continue to sail, to search for answers?"

"Given time," answered Tobias. His dark eyes regarded his wife—Elodie knew that he was choosing his words very carefully. "I wish to be here with you for another few weeks. Lucien seems more than happy to accompany me back out to sea in a month or so."

"So soon?" asked Elodie, feeling a weight once again pressing upon her shoulders. She had missed her father dearly: without him, the house was near unbearable.

As a young woman of a noble family, Elodie had an astounding number of responsibilities on her shoulders. She needed to learn the customs and politics of the aristocrats, as well as marry well—in other words, for money and not love—attend all the events of the higher-class…

And perhaps worst of all, all of it was done under the immense scrutiny of her mother, whose standards were so exact that Elodie felt she would need nothing short of a miracle in order to be the daughter she was expected to be.

But her father didn't care about any of that… he never had.

"Yes, cupcake, that soon," said Tobias, shadows lining his face. "But that's why I'm staying with you until the season changes. If I were to leave too soon, I would regret not being home longer. If I leave too late, I might miss if Lucien and I find answers. Like I always tell you—"

"If you regret nothing, you lived your life well," Elodie finished. If she had a silver piece for every time her father had said that, she'd be richer than even her mother.

Tobias chuckled and kissed the top of her head—his beard was very long, and it scratched her forehead. She spluttered somewhat and bat the bushiness away from her, which only prompted him to waggle it in her face even more.

"Papa," she scolded somewhat, trying not to laugh.

He looked at her evenly for only a moment; Elodie's stern countenance broke, but still she added, "I'm sixteen now. You did that a lot when I was a child, but…"

Elodie's father was quiet for only the briefest moment in time. "You'll always be my girl, Elodie. No matter what."

His words made her smile, but for some reason, they also made her sad…

Dinner that night was a wonderful affair; the entire palace was in high spirits with the return of their lord. Tobias ended up inviting many of their close friends and workers to dine with them—Joseph, Yolanda, Dimitri, Fargas. There was a beautifully seasoned roast duck for their entrée, and a new cinnamon pudding for dessert. Even though Elodie wasn't particularly fond of asparagus, she made sure to eat all of it to please her parents.

It was later, when the crickets and cicadas had long since begun chirping their nightly songs, that Elodie realized why she was still uneasy despite the happy supper.

This marked the second anniversary of the day her father's body began failing. The doctors he had first visited gave him three or four years at most at the time.

Even though it was well past time for Elodie to fall asleep, she no longer could. Her mind was swirling much too fast, to the point where she was almost getting a headache. Instead of attempting to suffer into sleep, she slid out of bed and headed back towards the lounge, where she knew her father would be sitting with a glass of warm cider in hand.

She was right: sitting in one of the armchairs close to the fire, a book in his hand and the predetermined glass in the other, was Tobias Lancaster. Elodie did not sneak into the room, as she knew her father wouldn't scold her for being out of bed so late.

Tobias smiled when he saw his daughter. "Elodie. You look troubled."

"Papa… maybe you should set sail sooner than a month from now."

"Why?"

Elodie wrung her hands and shuffled another step closer. Her voice small, she said, "Because none of us know how much time is left… If it means having you for longer than the next few years, I'm all right with not seeing you as much now."

Her father's eyes were dark; a rich brown that her mother Lysandra liked to equate with her favorite chocolate cakes. Those eyes were just as warm as he replied, "Perhaps you may be, but I'm not. There is no guarantee that there's a cure for my affliction out there, just waiting to be discovered. If that is the case, I will not push away the two people I love most in the whole world, making promises to stay alive that I have no power to keep."

A burning filled the corners of Elodie's eyes; she blinked away the tears before they could be revealed and show weakness. Ladies did not cry if they could help it. "But what if there is a cure?"

"Then maybe I will find it, or maybe I will not," said Tobias, and he eyed her quite seriously over the top of his book. "You are focusing very much on the loss you will one day be dealt, Elodie. Whether by this disease or the slow decay of time, I will one day leave you. What will you do then? Will you remember me as I was: your father who loves you and only ever wishes for your peace and happiness? Or will you dwell on your grief and uncertainty, bemoaning the possibilities that did not come to pass?"

Before Elodie could clear her tightened throat to respond, Tobias rose from his chair. His arms were extended, and with only a few steps and a kneel upon the plush carpet, she had been swept into his embrace again.

"I know what it is I would wish for you," he said, but his voice was no longer so strong. Now, there was a hope and desperation in it, so present that Elodie could almost reach out and touch it. "You are strong and intelligent; you could battle your pain and win against it, to focus on the beauty that is a fragile yet heartfelt memory. I would wish for you to smile when you remember me. You have a beautiful smile, my girl, and if it were in my power, I would always see you wear it."

They sat by the crackling fire for a long while. Tobias's words were sinking into Elodie's head: slow but sure, like molasses. She knew that one day, her father would leave her, and that it would be beyond her power. But…

"Why don't you and your mother come sailing with me the next time Lucien and I leave? You used to say how badly you wanted to see the ocean."

This idea was a joyous one, and Elodie's countenance immediately brightened after hearing it. "I'd love that! Would Mother want to come? She doesn't seem to like sailing the way you do…"

Tobias chuckled, the hint of a smile appearing from behind his beard. "I think I can convince her. She'll want for nothing on the ship—and neither will you."

The remainder of the hour was spent with the two of them sitting together by the hearth, with the Lord of the Hallowed City telling his daughter many stories about the trip he had just returned from. Twenty minutes into his tale, his wife entered the room—but much to Elodie's relief and delight, Lysandra did not bid her return to her room. Instead, she too sat in front of the fireplace and began braiding Elodie's hair: such peace with her parents Elodie had not known for what felt like many years.

But of course it could not last. Before the month was up, Tobias's condition caught up with him. He had difficulty walking, moving his limbs, and then talking. He needed to be assisted with many tasks like dressing, eating… the trip across the ocean was postponed indefinitely, and while Elodie wanted to believe that they would fulfill that promise one day, that promise to go sailing together, she had a sinking feeling that it would never happen.

She sat by her father's side for many hours of each day, reading aloud their favorite books and hoping for any sign of life from him. Each sunrise saw him more fatigued than the last.

Tobias was not the only one wasting away, a shadow of his former self… Lysandra was, too. She grew dark and depressed with her husband's failing heart and life-force; she ordered everything to be done, if at all possible.

Doctors came from all over the world. Herbs and new mixtures were tested and used. Prayers. Olden forms of medicine.

Nothing worked—and then, one day, Elodie remembered how cold the palace had become. There was no good reason for it, but it had happened; and as she searched the hallways looking for its source, she suddenly realized that the shadows that had corrupted her home were appearing from her mother's study.

Demonology. Blood magic and sacrifice.

"Mother!" Elodie had cried, on more than one occasion. She tugged at her mother's sleeves, sobbing, praying that she would listen. "You cannot do this! Father wouldn't want it!"

"Because of this illness, your father is unable to tell us what he wants," had been the curt reply. "I am trying to make it so that he can speak to us once again… so that he can be with us again."

Elodie knew even then that this was not the way to proceed. She was young, only seventeen years of age, but she knew the price of such dark magic was always far too great. Little by little, she lost her mother: they had never been as close as Elodie had been with her father, but still she noticed the little things that were missing.

Lysandra's rationality; the kindness towards the castle's workers; her hope that her daughter would grow up to become a kind, intelligent, and powerful woman.

Before long, all that was left was a husk of her former self: the quality of determination taken so far to the extreme, that it was little more than obsession.

And despite these drastic measures and all of the sacrifices that Lysandra and Elodie both had been uncertain to take—one day, he was just… gone.

You have a beautiful smile, my girl, and if it were in my power, I would always see you wear it.

Elodie's heart was in pain, but she remembered well these words.

They may never have gotten to have their trip together; there were promises now that could never be kept. But Elodie could keep her father's words close to heart, could try and save his wife for him, could live in a way that he would be proud of. Even if it hurt.