Mealtimes at Artemisa Volnero's estate were never ordinary affairs. But tonight, the lavish dining hall had been subtly softened, its usual grandeur dialed back. The lights, typically casting their pristine, ethereal glow, were dimmed to a warm amber, creating an almost intimate atmosphere.
Loana suspected it was a deliberate choice to make Vynara feel less like she was under constant scrutiny. Even the servants had been given the night off—a rare gesture in this sprawling villa that would never have happened under normal circumstances.
Artemisa had chosen something simpler as she typically was draped in elaborate gowns woven with intricate nanotech designs and shimmering with soft energy pulses. She wore a sleek tunic in shades of violet, a subtle homage to Vynara's trademark streak of color in her hair. The tunic, though sophisticated, was restrained by Kryptonian standards. It was woven with delicate circuitry that glowed faintly at her pulse points, adding an understated elegance.
Loana, too, had opted for simplicity. She wore an outfit made from soft, flowing fabrics that shimmered faintly at the seams but was far more relaxed than her usual attire. Normally, she would have chosen something more polished, but tonight felt different. They tried to ease Vynara into a world that never felt like home.
Dinners at Villa Montmirail were usually elaborate, with each dish a masterpiece. But tonight, the table was set more simply. There were just a few dishes—familiar but not ostentatious. The main course was a humble vegetable plate, accompanied by traditional bread loaves and fragrant teas, a quiet offering intended to make Vynara feel less like a guest under observation.
Despite their efforts, Vynara still shifted uncomfortably in her chair, clearly out of place in the grand room. Though thirty-four, her expression betrayed a discomfort that made her seem far younger—still like a fourteen-year-old caught in a space that didn't quite fit. The tension hung in the air and remained heavy.
Her fingers tapped nervously against the crystallized glass before her, the sound stopping abruptly when she caught Loana's eye. But she couldn't hide the slight tremor in her hand as she lifted her fork. It was subtle, but Loana noticed. Years as a reporter had sharpened her ability to read people in ways most wouldn't notice. She'd seen these signs in Vynara before, last year, during a report on Krypton's rising addiction epidemic.
For now, Loana kept her silence. She wouldn't bring it up until they were alone, away from their mother's watchful eye.
Suddenly, Artemisa cleared her throat, her voice softer than usual. "I had the villa redesigned a little since you were last here, Vynara," she said, her tone gentle, almost tentative. "I wanted it to be… welcoming."
Vynara's eyes flicked around the room, noticing the subtle new additions: a touch-screen panel embedded in the wall, offering an immersive view of the evening stars and the option for weather simulations. It was sophisticated but subtly so—technological but not gaudy.
"It's… nice," Vynara muttered, her gaze flickering away from her mother's searching eyes. She took a bite of food, but it tasted off, unsettling her stomach. It wasn't the food but something deeper—a hollow feeling that had nothing to do with hunger. She swallowed hard, trying to suppress the nausea that crept up, thankful the meal was light.
Loana broke the silence, her voice warm as she smiled. "Valara designed the new pattern work on the living room panels. She insisted you'd appreciate the colors."
Vynara nodded absently, her voice soft with pride and discomfort. "Valara's growing up. Her designs are… beautiful. What about Van? What's he like? I haven't really paid attention to either of them."
Loana's smile widened. "Van's talented too. He inherited Grandpa Jor-El's intelligence but also his father's humility. His best friend, Estrid Corill, is genderfluid—and it doesn't bother us."
Artemisa nodded, her lips curving into a faint smile. "Both have unique gifts and are special in their own ways. But even if they weren't gifted, I'd still be just as proud of them—for being themselves."
Vynara almost dropped her fork at her mother's words. It was a revelation to hear Artemisa say she loved her grandchildren regardless of their talents. Was her mother telling her that being gifted wasn't necessary for love? That she hadn't needed to prove herself?
Vynara glanced at her mother again, the weight of the realization sinking in. Had she been wrong about her mother all these years? Loana had once told her that their mother wore a mask of strength and elegance when she was in public and let it drop when she was with family. Was she just Artemisa? A mother who loved her daughters and was as flawed as any other Kryptonian? Had Vynara been too blind to see that?
"I know this is… a lot," Loana said softly, breaking the momentary silence. "We didn't expect you to feel right at home instantly. But maybe this could be a step forward."
Vynara nodded absently, reaching for her drink. Her hand trembled as she lifted the glass, though she tried to steady it. She barely tasted the water before setting it down again, her heart beating faster, skin prickling with that familiar sense of unease she'd tried to ignore.
She wasn't really listening to her mother or sister anymore. Her mind had spiraled back to the last twenty years. What had she done? What had she become?
But she wasn't ready to share any of it, not yet. She wasn't prepared for them to know the truth—that she'd been addicted to more than just the thrill of her self-imposed exile. She wasn't ready to confess how she'd done illegal work to get by, nor how she'd drowned herself in bed with both men and women to please them while high so she wouldn't remember the next day.
After a few minutes, it became clear the conversation had reached its limit. Artemisa and Loana exchanged looks, knowing that further attempts to talk tonight would only cause more strain. They escorted Vynara to her old room, which had remained untouched by time, a silent testament to the girl she once was.
"You can come talk to us when ready," they said gently. "For now, just get some rest."
Vynara nodded absently, too drained to protest. The door swished shut behind her, and she collapsed onto the bed, letting the weight of everything she had avoided pull her into a deep, restless sleep.