The quiet was suffocating as I slumped against the chair, no longer caring to hold myself up lest I choke. No longer caring, feeling, thinking, about anything but the feel of greasy slick smoke scraping through my brain.
I wasn't allowed the option to let myself suffocate.
A jolt of nearly unnoticed pain stabbed into my skull as too big hands yanked my head up by my hair. I could feel as strands of hair tore themselves free of my scalp, taking some of my flesh with them.
I was forced to meet the man's beady black eyes, trails of shiny black smoke drifting from his skin as words I couldn't recognise forced themselves into my head.
My brain burns with blurs of command, and the world freezes over.
Suddenly I'm sitting in a different place, and I have to listen, have to do what I'm told. Why? I don't know, I don't know, I know I'm not allowed to ask. I have to do what I'm told, don't ask questions, just do what I'm told.
Glass clinks as people around enjoy a feast of food, great cheers of malice echo behind me as I stare at the table of food. More than enough to feed an entire village. Fancy puddings are served like cheap candy, well prepared steaks of wondrous quality eaten with great gusto. My stomach growls and I can feel the hollow scraping in the core of my being.
I don't eat, I don't speak, I don't think.
I have to do what I'm told.
Palms grab my chin, twisting my neck painfully and forcing me to look up into blank gray eyes that echo with things I don't like.
I don't speak, I don't scream, I don't resist.
Cinder bursts to life, the entire hall of laughing people consumed into ash as everything changes. A pedestal rises from the marble floors, cut from fine marble and inlaid with silver. Molten Bronze drips from nothing, melting into a brazier. Intricate designs burn with mystery and light as my mind fails to understand their meaning.
Pale flames ignite dry timber inside and I can feel the heat, but I walk towards it anyway. It burns me, infernal sunlight melting against my flesh as I get closer, and closer. My feet scraping against ice, cinder, and broken glass with every step.
A thousand shades chant around me, their voices frostbite upon my ears as they yell in a broken cadence.
"Sacrifice, Choose, Sacrifice, Choose, Sacrifice, Choose!"
The pale fire burns my eyes as I stare at the conflagration only just contained by the Brazier's near molten metal. Bloody footprints mark my path with each and every step.
Cracks cut their way through my skin like furrows in the earth, ivory fire bursting from my fragile frame. The pale flames languid, able to burst from my skin at the slightest provocation. Not contained, only just constrained by a lack of purpose.
My left hand lifts against my will the fire in my veins using me like a puppet as my hand is forced into the brazier, and I can do nothing but scream as the inferno climbs up my arm.
My throat is bloody and raw as they tear from my throat, and the world breaks apart in a clatter of green light.
My room was silent as I woke up. I didn't make a sound, I didn't twitch, I didn't gasp for breath, I didn't scramble from my bed in a panic.
I laid their quiet as I could be, forcing my shaking hands still as my brain wirred like an old computer fan. I slowly blinked the sleepy blur from my eyes and scanned what I could see without so much as twitching my head.
It was only when my eyes found dirt doodles animals on the ceiling did I let my muscles unclench and allowed myself to sit up.
My room was exactly as it had been when I fell asleep, the walls were a soft green color, the carpet showing the slight marks of my own feet. Light, nearly invisible, pencil marks on the walls made up even more animal near childish animal drawings.
Each one of them only made me relax further, there were no new doodles that I didn't remember making. No signs that anyone had so much as opened the door, the small pile of dirt I had put in front of it completely undisturbed.
My nails weren't broken and cracked, leaking blood, and the bolt on the hinge of the door was flush with the burnished brass of the hinge itself.
I didn't cry with relief, no tears fell from my eyes, but I felt it all the same as I crawled out of to soft silk sheets. I ran my hand along the wall, tracing my doodles thoughtlessly. I new what each doodle meant down to my very bones, in a way that made them ache.
The doodles said only one thing, over and over again.
'You're safe.'
I took in the sentiment, breathed it in like it was my last chance. Then I opened my dresser and started getting dressed. I don't think I'd ever been glad that it wasn't scandalous for women to wear pants in this world.
Ever since my sacrifice, I had been erratic at best, my attention jumping between thing one and thing two at a speed even I found completely baffling. The only thing I could find that allowed me to concentrate even a little was running, and even then it was just because I managed to burn off most of my energy.
It was part of the reason I had pants now, since even though it wasn't scandalous it wasn't common for a lady of my standing to own a pair, unless they were training to be a knight. Even then it wasn't particularly common since they would usually just commission dresses that didn't get in the way of fighting.
After ruining two pairs of dresses while running my Father caved and just had a tailor make me pants. Another good thing about running was that it helped find balance after any particularly bad nightmares.
Such as the one I just had.
That brought me to now, around the estate grounds. Not the entire estate of course, that would be next to impossible with how large they were, including several buildings and a ridiculously large mansion.
By the time I was done I was huffing like a workhorse As I slowed to a stop, My long hair pulled into a ponytail meaning it was completely soaked with sweat. The sun had begun to rise the sky, dawning light beaming across green trees and verdant grass.
Based on my own tiredness, and the amount of Sweat in my hair, I had probably been running for at least two hours. Likely longer in my experience, since I tend to wake annoyingly early when I have a night terror.
I would have to have a bath, then I might be able to squeeze an hour or two in the library before A tutor decides to grab me. Something I found strange, my brother had been given a tutor at my age, but he had never had so much of his time taken up.
Most of what we needed would be taught in the academy after all, so beyond manners and the very basics most Nobles found tutors superfluous. I was a little confused why the tutor was seemingly trying to get me to make a mistake in math, especially considering algebra was largely believed to be the domain of scholars.
Didn't help that the man was particularly grating either.
I had been in the Library for only about half an hour before one of my new 'Maids' found me. Not that I was hiding really, or even that they tried to take me away. No, the 'Maid' just stood behind me slightly to my right as I tried to find something interesting to read.
No, the reason I always added mental quotation marks was quite simple.
My 'Maids' weren't maids at all, no they were essentially bodyguards. Not that I was suppose to know that, at least I don't think I was supposed to know that. No I figured it out, the way they walked with stuttered grace, like a predator that didn't know how to stop hunting.
The extra muscles on their arms that didn't lend themselves to household chores, or cleaning. The many knives they had sheathed anywhere from on their thighs, to their hair, and even a couple hidden in the frills of their dresses.
I also spotted a sword sheathed on the first day they started as my maids made all the other things I noticed rather obvious.
So yes the four 'Maids' were more likely a contingent of knights, or others of martial skill set for my protection. I didn't begrudge my father that, Most of the time they did an incredible job of fading to the background.
The only thing I found annoying was that If the cloudy glass of reality, managed to clear even slightly I could feel the blood dripping across their swords. The Lives fading into doused coals at their hands.
It made concentrating annoyingly hard, when I kept smelling the phantom scent of Iron in the air.
It was just something I would have to deal with, My skill at purposefully keeping everything at the normal perception of a human growing by the day. Even if I slipped on occasion, I'd only been rendered catatonic twice since I snapped back to reality the first time six months ago.
I like to think that's progress.
Regardless I plucked a single book from the shelf that I found interesting, and left to find a place to read.
I wondered if 'Sophia and the Emerald Princess' would be any good. Admittedly the fact it had my name was most of my interest but it hopefully wouldn't be too bad.
Adeline followed her charge with quiet footsteps. The small white haired girl held a book in her arms as she seemingly marched towards her chair.
She had been assigned as both a maid, and protector of the youngest Ascart nearly six months ago, transferred over from the house guardsmen. She alongside three others were to protect Lady Sophia at all costs. Adeline was prepared for a spoiled young noble girl, perhaps more well behaved than the Claes heiress, but still arrogant and self assured.
She was not expecting the Traumatized young lady she received.
Sophia Ascart was kind in an oddly silent way, and incredibly self sufficient for a noble of her age. She hardly asked anything of Adeline or any of the other servants, she usually dressed her self and at first Adeline was happy to have such an easy job.
Then Lady Sophia had her first episode.
Adeline had heard rumors of the Ascart Youngest, how she was a curse on the land and other such nonsense. She had heard how the Slip of a girl had disappeared one day and how almost three fourths of the Staff had been fired or worse afterwards.
She hadn't even guessed that the noble child had been kidnapped, hadn't even thought to the consequences. Then she had taken her shift watching the child.
One second Lady Sophia had completely normal, walking to the library that she seemed to have made a second home in. The next the girl had drifted off, walking over to one side of the hallway her eyes locked onto a painting of something or other.
She had tried to attract her attention, everything from saying her name to nudging her shoulder as gently as she could. Nothing could gain the White haired child's attention, it was only once she had tried everything else did she physically turn the girl head did anything change.
Lady Sophia had pale skin, of a shade Adeline had never seen before but as she turned the young girls head, her face was pale to degree that made her look like a ghost.
So pale it made her Red, red eyes all the more apparent, usually glowing with life, now emptier than a hollow vase. Complete blankness in her Noble ladies eyes, eyes that usually held hint of kindness, of wariness, of just about anything you could find.
Now they were Abyssal rubies as the girl seemingly stared through Adeline, stared through her flesh, stared through her soul, stared through everything that made Adeline, Adeline.
Memories She clung to, memories she banished, all suddenly filled her head seemingly reflected in empty ruby. Call of her long dead uncle echoed in her head, the sound of her mothers voice young like it would never be again.
The sound of her own sword being drawn, the sound of blood spattering as she killed a bandit for the first time echoed in her ears even as a voice like flickering flames spoke like the softness of a shadow.
"Blood stains you."
She still shivered at the memory, unsure if she had imagined the catatonic girl's voice or if the entire event had been little more than a figment of her imagination. Lady Sophia certainly never mentioned it again, not that Lady Sophia spoke much at all.
No, the albino girl only ever spoke frequently to her Family, mostly her Brother. Adeline wasn't sure if she should be happy about that.
Regardless that day had been but the beginning, as Adeline noticed her lady always getting up in a cold sweat. Had noticed the young girl running like the hounds of the new moon nipped at her heels.
Adeline drew herself back to the present as her made a sound like a boiling tea kettle. Snapping her head towards her charge she found her lady sitting at one of the many chair spread about the library.
The child's face was redder than Adeline though possible as she blinked in confusion. A closer look showed the girl's eyes were the size of dinner plates as they ran over the words of a book like she couldn't believe what she was reading.
Another sound Adeline was sure shouldn't be coming from a human throat escaped her ladies lips as she all but slammed the book shut, steam practically blowing from her ears as she jumped to her feet, running to put the book back on it's shelf.
It was only After Adeline glimpsed the title of the book did she understand exactly what just happened. 'Sophia and the Emerald Princess' Adeline could feel a blush of her own form on her face as she remembered exactly what the book contained.
Not that she would ever admit that she had read it.
Maria didn't believe in gods.
Or to be more accurate, she didn't use to.
Ever since her teacher had given her the small red coin, Maria had found that things were easier. She still dreamed of Ruby eyes, still dreamed of pale fire incinerating all who would harm her.
Still woke to the phantom sensation of sticky blood being smeared on her cheek, but she woke after a full night's sleep, something hot in her chest. She still found herself losing time as she tried to carve a beauty she couldn't speak into paper that couldn't hold it.
Spent hours with the pale girl's voice echoing in her head like shattered stone, cracking things inside her that couldn't be fixed, that she didn't want to be fixed.
No perhaps it was better to say that Maria still had all the same problems she had before, they just became manageable.
One of her hands played with the small red token, flipping between her fingers, clenching it in her palm, tracing every line of its intricate design. Knowing it's every detail better than the broken remnants of her own mind.
Even as she inscribed the spray of ichor, burning pale light, and soft snow hands stained red with every pencil stroke.
She hadn't been able to restrain her curiosity, simply showing the red coin to the town librarian had been enough. Swift directions lead to a section of the lIbrary Maria hadn't even known existed.
The burning, scraping, dripping thing in the back of Maria's head consumed ehr even more as she read of the Twelve phases of the moon.
All of them were fascinating in a way that made the all consuming need in the back of her mind purr in contentment. But it was the avatar of the Blood Moon that made her feel like the abyss was about to swallow her whole.
The Blood Moon, the Goddess of War, Blood, Dreams, and Madness.
She didn't sound like a pleasant Goddess to worship, at first. However the more Maria looked the more it called to her like it was meant to be.
A Goddess of Madness, not of the suffering, or the terror but the artistry behind it. The Madness behind a painter's eyes, the glow of lunacy behind an actor's mask, the snap of genius's mind as they discovered things they weren't meant to know.
A Goddess of Dreams, not because she brought kind ones, but because she slaughtered Nightmares. Because she hunted the shadows in one's mind that made them tremble in terror, because she burned the light into even the deepest night.
A Goddess of Blood, because she hated to see it spilled in vain. Because she bathed in the blood of the blackheart, and the corrupted. Because all blood spilled was worth more than any could pay.
A Goddess of War, because her people called for protection in the darkest nights. Because vengeance must be had, and justice must be served. Because all Wars have to end, even if it must be at her hand.
All of them spoke to Maria Campbell, Daughter of an unjustly Shunned Woman, wielder of light magic. A genius her fellow villagers said, even as they did their best to never interact with her. A girl whose own Father doubted her blood.
What could she do but kneel? What could she do but give into the burning fervor pumping through her veins?
What could she do but Believe?
That night Maria found herself making a statue out of folded paper stained with her own blood. She could never capture the beauty that burned in her mind like snow and wildfire, so she didn't try, shaping the paper into a sword, the red token resting on top of it even as she whispered fervent nothings.
Maria could feel a strange heat behind her eyes as she let a drop of blood soak into the already stained paper. Feel it burning in her veins as she hung up countless failed sketches around her small shrine.
When she went to bed that night, she dreamed of a lake filled with red, red, blood, a small girl so beautiful as to break human minds as she sat in the lifeblood of thousands.
She dreamed of pale hands running over her cheek, smearing it with blood even as stained hands ran softly through her hair. As red lips brushed against her forehead in the shape of a smile.
She dreamed as miles away, pale flames burst to life once more.