It wasn't long before Daniela found herself searching for her sister, excitement shining in her eyes as she combed through the halls. While the meeting between the Lords had taken place, she had spent her time reading in the library, and the urge to share her thoughts with Cassandra could not be ignored.

Daniela eventually found the brunette sharpening her sickle within the corner of the armory, her expression unreadable as she ran the blade along a whetstone. She must have been dreaming about running it across one of the maid's throats, as usual. Nothing else besides violence ever seemed to be on that woman's mind. Daniela hesitated for a moment, debating whether or not this was the wrong time, then put on her usual, cheerful smile. She had made her decision.

I can't wait to talk to her!

"Cassandra!" Daniela called across the room. "I just found this fascinating book in the library—it's about two hunters lost in the woods. Why don't you come with me? We can read it together!"

Cassandra did not look up from her work. She continued sharpening the sickle with the same steady rhythm as the silence between them grew heavier. But Daniela, undeterred, tried again. This had happened before, after all.

"Come on, Cassandra, it'll be fun! I found some other books too. They're all on things you like—wildlife, hunting, tracking—"

Cassandra's hand stilled, her grip tightening on the handle of the sickle. Still, she said nothing.

"Or we could pick a different book. Anything you'd like!" Daniela's voice had grown almost pleading, her eyes alight with enthusiasm. At the same time, they carried the glimmer of a fleeting sense of hope. If her sister didn't respond now, would she ever do so?

Suddenly, Cassandra stood up, her face twisted with annoyance as she glared at her younger sister. "Will you just quit pestering me already?" she snapped. "I don't care about whatever you found in the library, Daniela. I'm not interested."

Daniela blinked, taken aback by the harshness in Cassandra's tone. She opened her mouth, ready to defend herself, but the words caught in her throat. Her shoulders fell slightly, but she didn't let it dampen her spirit entirely.

She must be in a bad mood. What else is new? Maybe if I explain these books some more, she'll come around. I mean, I didn't even get to describe them. Wait! Even better!

"Okay, well… then maybe we can do something else," Daniela said, shifting her weight uneasily as she attempted to brew up some more confidence within herself. "We haven't gone on a hunt together in ages. Remember how much fun we used to have? We could go out just like we used to."

Cassandra's expression soured further, and she gave a humorless laugh. "A hunt? Really? And what are we supposed to hunt, Daniela? Deer? I've hunted enough of those." She shook her head, crossing her arms. "You're just looking for something to talk about, aren't you?"

Daniela clenched her fists, her gaze dropping to the floor for a moment before she looked up, hurt flashing across her face. "I just thought it would be nice to spend some time together. We hardly do anything as sisters anymore, and it feels like you don't even care."

"That's because I'm fine with that," Cassandra shot back, her words seasoned with irritation. "Honestly, why do you care so much about what I'm doing? It's like you can't go a single day without needing my attention. Maybe I just don't want to waste my time on stupid books and pointless chatter."

Daniela felt the sting of her sister's words like a slap. She had always idolized Cassandra in a way, seeing her as fierce and brave, someone to look up to. The way that woman could track an animal was unparalleled. It was almost as if her eyes could tap into the creature's, glimpsing its every move as she drew closer.

But lately, it seemed like every time someone tried to be close to her, they were met with a wall of cold indifference. Something inside her had been steadily changing over the years. There was no mistake about it.

"I just thought we could still have something like we used to, but I guess you don't care about any of that, do you?"

Cassandra sneered. "Oh, so now you're going to whine about it? Don't be so pathetic, Daniela."

At her sister's taunt, Daniela's temper flared hotter than before. Without thinking, she raised her voice, the resentment overtaking her thinking.

"I'm not pathetic! You're the one who's been hiding away, acting like no one can ever get close to me!" she screamed. "I just wanted to be with my sister! Is that so bad?"

"You'll just forget this conversation in five minutes like you always do," Cassandra said with a laugh that followed. She wanted to drive Daniela away with the insult.

But the redhead did not fulfill that goal. Instead, she stood her ground and offered another comment that would strike the brunette at her heart. "You're the one who has forgotten this family!"

Cassandra's face contorted with rage, and in a sudden, violent burst, she reached for the delicate vase on the stand beside her. Without a second thought, she hurled it at the floor. The vase shattered into dozens of pieces, scattering glass shards everywhere. The room fell into a tense lull, the middle child breathing heavily as she glared viciously at her sibling.

What is the matter with her?!

Just as the threat of more shouting was about to come to life, a third voice rang through the room, authoritative as usual.

"What is going on here?" Bela stood at the doorway, displeased as she took in the scene before her—Cassandra's clenched fists, Daniela's flushed cheeks, and the shattered glass littering the floor. Her eyes narrowed as she looked between them.

Cassandra's anger didn't dissipate the slightest. She folded her arms, looking off to the side defiantly, as if to say she hadn't done anything wrong. Daniela, meanwhile, bit her lip, her fury already starting to fade into shame under her older sister's gaze. This was not what she wanted, but it was what she got.

"Do you two realize what a mess you've made?" Bela continued. "Honestly, do you have any idea how loud you both are? I heard all that screaming from the hallway outside."

Neither of them answered, and Bela's patience grew even thinner. She walked over to the broken vase, inspecting it with a disappointed shake of her head.

"Look, I don't care what this was about," Bela said, fixing them both with a stern look. "But you need to clean this up. Both of you. Now."

Cassandra scoffed and glanced at Daniela, muttering under her breath, "This is your fault, you know."

"What?" Daniela whispered. "If you hadn't thrown the vase—"

"Oh, don't play innocent, Daniela," Cassandra countered. "You're always pushing, always needing something from everyone around you. It's exhausting. You really are the baby of the three of us."

Daniela swallowed her hurt, but she couldn't help but remember the countless times she had tried to bridge the distance between them, only to be met with Cassandra's relentless hostility. She wondered if things would ever go back to the way they were or if this bitterness would linger inside her sister's soul forever.

What did we do? Was this our fault? She was never like this. I remember Cassandra being so happy back when we were... Oh! Back when we were born! We were never kids.

Bela's gaze finally landed on Cassandra, who continued to stand with her arms defiantly crossed. There was no doubt in her mind that the brunette was the one who had destroyed the vase. Her sister was the pinnacle of messiness, and it drove the blonde crazy.

"Cassandra," Bela said, "clean this up. Right now."

Cassandra scoffed once more, rolling her eyes. "Why should I?"

"Because you're the one who threw it. We can't leave this castle in total disarray, even if it is your room," Bela replied, her patience thinning with each passing second. She knew what kind of conversation was about to happen, and she wanted to have no part of it.

As expected, Cassandra seemed unfazed. She raised a brow and smirked, challenging Bela with a look that dared her to push harder. "You want the castle spotless, perfect little Bela? Then go ahead and clean it up yourself."

Bela's face tightened, and she took a deep breath, trying to keep her composure. Here it was. "This isn't about me. You made a mess, Cassandra. I'm asking you to take responsibility for it."

Cassandra's smirk vanished, replaced by a cold, hard glare. "I don't have to do anything. If you're so desperate to be Mother's favorite daughter, then this is your job, not mine. Maybe you should listen to what I have to say, since you're so obedient." Her words were laced with venom, each one delivered with a weight meant to sting where it needed to.

And before Bela could respond, Cassandra's form dissolved into a swarm of flies, her fiery amber orbs the last thing visible before she disappeared out the door, leaving a wave of animosity colder than the outside wind in her wake.

Daniela watched her sister leave, her hands clenching at her sides, caught somewhere between sadness and frustration. She felt the aftermath of Cassandra's insults as if they'd been aimed at her, too, and the tension in the room was suffocating. She cast an uneasy glance at Bela, hoping to bridge the gap somehow. It would only make sense if the eldest of the trio was just as angry at her as well.

"Bela..." she started softly, uncertain of what kind of response she was going to get now.

But Bela's expression was one of raging fury, her jaw clenched tightly as she stared at the mess on the floor, lips pressed into a thin line. Maybe it was her only way of shielding herself from the way she truly felt about that remark. Without looking at the redhead, she snapped, "What is it, Daniela?"

Daniela hesitated, faltering under the edge of Bela's tone. She just wanted a moment of understanding, a chance to talk things out, and maybe even find some comfort. But the anger in Bela's voice told her to tread carefully. She could only afford to be at odds with one of her sisters right now—not both.

"I was just... thinking maybe I could help clean up," Daniela helpfully offered. "It might go faster if I just—"

"No." Bela cut her off. She finally looked at Daniela, her eyes narrowing in clear distrust. "I don't need you making a bigger mess than there already is."

The rejection hit Daniela harder than she'd expected, a reminder of just how far apart they all were. Still, she forced herself to remain calm and nodded, taking a step back, though it felt like her chest was caving in. All she'd wanted was to help, to prove she wasn't as useless as Cassandra seemed to think she was, to show that she could be just as dependable as Bela.

Why doesn't she think I can do it? How many times have I disappointed her before?

Bela's gaze turned to the doorway, her keen senses picking up the faint rustle of movement from just outside the room. "I'll be right back. Stay there." Without sparing another look at Daniela, she marched out of the room to go towards whatever it was that she had picked up on.

Left alone in the silence, Daniela stood still, her fixation shifting from the broken glass to the door through which Bela had disappeared. She hugged her arms around herself, feeling the cold air settle uncomfortably on her skin as the warmth of her sisters' presence faded, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

This is all my fault.

As the seconds passed, Daniela's thoughts began to spiral, picking at each wound that her sisters had left in her heart over the past few years. When had it all started to fall apart? When had the three of them—bound by blood—started to drift in such different directions?

Cassandra's unending temper and the way she lashed out at anything that didn't fit her liking had been on the rise. But lately, it felt as though her sister's rage was directed solely at her and Bela, each remark worse than the last. The sister who used to laugh with her over pranks now looked at her with something closer to disdain, as though she were nothing more than a nuisance.

It brought a wave of fear across Daniela's heart, as she wondered if there would eventually come a day when that anger would spill over into something greater. She shuddered to think of what could happen, as it hurt just as much to even imagine that sort of thing. They were sisters, after all.

And then there was Bela. The one who had always held them together with her calm nature. In their earliest years, she did everything that she could to ensure that they got to spend time together. She was always available to play. In fact, she loved it.

But that sense of happiness had grown more distant, as if Bela was now more interested in preserving her own order and perfection than connecting with her sisters. She was always watching them, judging them, as though every mistake was a strike against her sense of control. The blonde sought their mother's praise just as much as they did, but she took it to a whole different level.

Did she care about that more than she cared about them?

Daniela tried to recall happier memories. Times when they would sneak around at night, telling stories or playing harmless tricks on the maids, laughing until their sides ached. Times when they were more than just daughters of Lady Dimitrescu—times when they were friends.

And yet, those moments felt like an old story. Faded dreams that no longer fit the reality they lived in. Daniela sighed, lowering her head, the chill of the room pressing in around her, gnawing at her skin. She was weak against the cold, of course—they all were. But this chill was different—an emptiness that seemed to seep into her very being.

Abandonment.

Her mind wandered to the fight she'd had with Cassandra just now, the anger that had bubbled up in both of them. She couldn't understand why Cassandra had turned so wrathful and why every attempt she made to connect was met with mockery. What had she done to deserve being pushed away?

And Bela... she knew Bela was overburdened with the responsibilities that she had been given. But it felt like every time she reached out, it was the same kind of result that Cassandra would give—minus the insults. Nevertheless, an unloving approach, as if the redhead was just not good enough for her at that moment.

Her eyes lingered on the shards of the broken vase, and a sudden, bitter thought crept into her mind. Maybe, in some twisted way, the shattered glass was a perfect reflection of their sisterhood—once whole and beautiful, now lying in scattered fragments, each sharp piece a reminder of how far they'd fallen from each other.

This isn't a vase anymore, is it? It really is us.

As her thoughts darkened, she heard the soft click of footsteps approaching. Bela had returned, her face stern as she directed Kyia into the room, gesturing toward the broken vase. "Pick it up, now!" The brunette nodded quickly and knelt to start collecting the pieces.

Daniela kept her eyes trained on Bela, hoping for some acknowledgment and a chance to explain herself or even apologize if she had to. But Bela's gaze was fixed on the maid, her shoulders tense as though any moment she might snap.

I know Bela doesn't like Kyia, so maybe she's just mad at her.

"Bela, I didn't mean to—"

"Not now, Daniela," Bela stopped her. "I've had enough of this for one day."

Daniela swallowed, knowing that anything she said would only worsen the situation. She looked away, trying to hide the hurt in her eyes. What was the point? This was going nowhere.

Kyia worked silently as she picked up each shard of glass, placing them into a dustpan she'd been instructed to bring with her. The room was filled with the quiet, almost rhythmic sound of glass being gathered. There was no dialogue between any of the two noblewomen.

Bela crossed her arms, her gaze still fixed on Kyia, as if watching her work could somehow erase the chaos of the past five minutes.

As Kyia continued to work on gathering up the glass, she let her mind wander. Each shard glinted in the candlelight, like tiny slivers of power begging to escape them. Her thoughts drifted to the Dagger of Death's Flowers, the blade that had brought her across the realms. She remembered the fragments of the blade back in Serpenmoor, each one a key to unlocking the strength she'd needed to escape that nightmare. Those pieces had felt like an extension of herself, each jagged edge holding a concentration of fawn power.

Gather enough of them, and they could reignite what had been taken. She had done it before—and that was with a shattered variant. If the flicker theory was real, which she now believed it to be, then the creation of timelines meant the replication of items and people. An intact version of the blade would likely yield such substantial power.

Power that was reserved for only the most powerful fawn to have ever existed—herself.

In a brief, satisfying fantasy, Kyia imagined her hands setting this entire castle ablaze, reducing it to nothing but ash. But her revenge would have to wait. She just wished that she had murdered the version of Bela she met back in that wretched world.

At least then she would know what the sound of her screaming in agony was like.

The distinct voices of Bela and Daniela nearby broke her concentration, drawing her back to the cold present. They were talking again. Kyia couldn't help but subtly listen in once more. She had already collected an earful on her way to the kitchen just before Bela scooped her up.

"Was there something I could've done better?" Daniela asked, her anxiety demanding a clear answer.

Bela sighed. "Maybe stop talking to Cassandra if this is what it always comes to."

But why?

"Why can't things just be the way they used to be?" Daniela pleaded, hoping that it would somehow spark a change of heart in her older sibling. She wanted someone to be on her side for once. The very fabric of their sisterhood was slowly fraying, and she knew it would take all three of them to keep it together.

Kyia glanced up for a moment, her eyes taking in the sadness of Daniela's expression. But Bela had no answer, her silence as damning as a verbal rebuke. The fawn recognized such turmoil. The roots of discontent manifesting into a lethal rot. It would only be a matter of time at this rate, and things would likely not get better.

Daniela's eyes glimmered as she asked another question. "Why is Cassandra so angry all the time?"

Bela shook her head as she simplified it. "That's just how she is. You know that."

"But it wasn't always like this!" Daniela's voice rose with desperation. "There was a time when we all got along—"

Bela interrupted, her tone final. This conversation was over. "I don't have time for this, Daniela. There are things that need my attention. We can talk later."

But Daniela's frustration only grew in response to the second round of carelessness. "No, Bela. There's no later. Let's talk now."

Bela turned to leave. "We'll speak about it later," she repeated firmly before she walked out of the room, leaving Daniela alone by herself. The redhead didn't get to see the way that she closed her eyes as she left. She wouldn't know about how much her older sister wanted to kick herself over the choice she made.

But something deep inside Bela forced her to do so. Maybe it was her fragmented fears of having to own up to how much she alienated her siblings because of the responsibilities she never wanted. Maybe later, she could return to Daniela and talk about it, like she had said. But Bela knew that there would be no talk. Only more chores that needed to be done.

Chores that temporarily took her mind away from how much she agreed with what she was seeing. This family was dying slowly. Day by day, over an eternal life.

Kyia didn't raise her eyes, but she could feel the heartbreak radiating from Daniela. She continued to gather the shards, concealing her own thoughts about the tense exchange she'd just witnessed. She had never witnessed the three sisters argue in such a manner. Did they do this often?

Daniela watched Bela disappear down the hall as she let out an exasperated sigh. Her eyes landed on Kyia, her brow furrowing as soon as the brunette came into view. "Can't you move any faster?"

Kyia kept herself calm. In such a broken state, Daniela had every reason to act on her anger. Who was to say that she wouldn't slit her throat with one of those sharp pieces? "Yes, Miss Daniela."

As much as she wished to slaughter this abusive woman, Kyia reminded herself that patience was a weapon too.

For a moment, Daniela simply watched her work, her gaze wandering ever-so-slightly as the glass piled up beside the slender maid. Then, her tone softened unexpectedly. "Do you have any sisters?"

Kyia blinked, momentarily surprised by the question. She hadn't expected Daniela to shift so quickly, but what did she know? Out of all three, the redhead was the one who seemed to be the most unhinged. "No," she replied with a rare truth.

Daniela's eyes moved away. "Sometimes," she murmured, "it feels like I'm an only child too."

And with that, the noblewoman turned and left the room, on her way to somewhere else. Somewhere peaceful and free from the harsh reality of her crumbling life.

Once the door shut behind Daniela, Kyia let out a quiet breath as she placed the last few bits into her hands. She held them, their edges pressing into her palms.

The fawn considered the possibility that if this rift was as deep as it appeared, perhaps it was something she could use to her advantage. These three sisters, fractured by resentment, could possibly be turned against one another. And in the resulting chaos, she could find the freedom she'd been seeking, the opportunity to regain what she had lost, and escape from this castle.

And if not, then at least they could hurt each other.

The glass glinted in her hands as she turned the glass over slowly. Each piece reminded her of the fragments that had been gathered to resurrect her powers in Serpenmoor. And just as she had done then, she would wait, bide her time, and seize the perfect opportunity when it presented itself.

She knew that there was no way to go at this alone. Alliances had to be made, along with a few enemies. Weeding out those who would offer no valuable help, she would cling to those who could. An uprising of the maids was the worst idea. That revolution would be crushed in an instant. Kyia couldn't be seen as a leader. That would highlight her amongst the rest.

It wasn't just the daughters who she would have to manipulate. The staff had to be at odds with one another too. Break the foundation, and the entire house will crumble.

She needed another Ethan—someone who would sacrifice for her.

Another Bela—someone who she could blame when things went south.

Kyia then concluded that she may have already had those vital components.

Setting the shards aside, she rose to her feet, brushing off her skirt as she grabbed the dustpan and pushed them onto it. Her ears remained open, waiting for the next round of arguments that the sisters would likely go through. Oh, how fortunate she was, she thought, to have been able to be here for this incident.

Piece by piece, her plan was slowly coming together.

The Village

Narratha's breaths were slow and controlled as she pressed her shovel down. Her emerald glare was still set on the boy, awaiting the next thing that he would tell her. It had been a dozen seconds since he had tapped on her leg, and she was growing impatient.

"What do you want?" Her voice growled as she watched him fidget around momentarily.

The child took a small step back, swallowing his nerves as he looked up at her. "I, uh… I'm sorry," he mumbled, "for hitting you with a snowball yesterday."

Narratha blinked. "Snow… ball?" She glanced down at the white expanse below her feet, a frown settling on her face. The child's meaning clicked a second later, and she sighed, her brows furrowing. "Fine," she replied with a groan of anger. "Don't do it again. Now go away."

Satisfied she'd dealt with him, she turned back to her work, but the boy lingered, watching her. She didn't have to look to sense his presence; there had not been the sound of a single footstep crunching on the blanketed ground. Without turning, she sighed in exasperation and growled, "Why are you still here?"

The boy was hesitant to speak at first, but something inside him compelled him to ignore his worries. "None of the other kids want to play with me," he said finally, hoping she would address his dilemma.

Narratha's mouth twisted as she fixated on her work. "Not my problem."

The boy was silent, but when she peeked over her shoulder, she saw him glancing over at a distant group of children, their muffled laughter drifting through the air. He shuffled his feet and looked back at her. "Are you from around here?" he asked.

Her grip tightened on the shovel. With a low huff, she drove it into the snow, another breath of annoyance escaping her lips. "No."

He looked down, but undeterred, he asked, "Where did you come from?"

She turned, casting a hard stare at him. Narratha had had enough of this. "No more questions. Don't think for a second that I won't hurt you."

The boy's eyes widened as he took a cautious step back. The look of fear was already rife across his face, but the way he reacted seemed to be born from instinct. The kid knew danger when it presented itself.

She exhaled slowly, allowing herself to turn away from him, but the child still had one more thing to say once he was at a safe distance.

"Why are adults always so angry?"

The question made her pause. Narratha wasn't sure if she was even meant to hear it at all. She glanced over her shoulder again, her eyes fixating on the boy, who was now beginning to leave. "What?"

He stopped as soon as he heard her voice. Turning back to her, the kid shrugged his shoulders in a display of innocence. He was too young to formulate a complex plan. Children often spoke so directly. He had nothing else but to say other than the truth, or at least, his perception of it. "They always look... angry. Nothing is ever good. No smiles or anything. Is that what happens when people get older?"

Narratha closed her eyes briefly, and with a low breath, she let her words fall from her lips, peeling back the armor of heartlessness that she adorned her body with for so many years. A glimpse at the woman she used to be. A woman who was still drowning in the blood. "I was a child once too, you know."

The boy seemed almost surprised by the way she spoke to him. It was almost as if the vicious-looking redhead would be okay with talking for a bit. He took another step forward, his voice eager for an explanation. "How did you see the world?"

Narratha's fingers wrapped tighter around the shovel, her gaze going somewhere far beyond the snow to a place that she believed she would never see again. "I saw it the way it should have been," she replied, as though speaking to herself.

A world without violence. One where people could be happy and enjoy their lives. No concept of hatred. Building, not breaking. Believing that the future was something to look forward to. Reflecting on the past without the concern of heartache.

Everything that she sold her soul for, believing that her violence will stop everyone else's. She never put much thought into her plan, only her acquired rage.

The boy's face brightened with interest as he took another hopeful step closer. "I have no one to play with," he said. "Could you... could you play with me for a bit?"

Narratha turned around, her hands relinquishing their grip on the shovel. "No."

His brow creased in disappointment, but he seemed determined, as if this was his last chance to make a friend. "Why not?"

"Because I'm not your friend," she replied immediately. She shook her head as if to clear her mind and jammed the shovel back into the snow, ready to resume her work. "You shouldn't speak to strangers. You do not know who they are."

The Library

Kyia dusted the bookshelves as her attention split between her work and the lighthearted chatter coming from Delia. The girl sat cross-legged on the floor, a small plate balanced on her lap, nibbling on her food as she looked back at the brunette.

"You know, when I was younger," Delia began, recalling some of her fondest memories, "my mother and father used to take me down to the creek that ran by our home. It was small, but the water was clear. We'd go in the springtime, and we'd try to catch fish with our hands."

Kyia glanced back at her, watching as Delia bit into her bread, pausing only to smile at her story. Was it a genuine grin? Delia thought so.

"Father always said we'd never catch anything, not with our hands anyway. But one day," Delia continued, her eyes lighting up, "I actually caught one! It was so slippery, and it wriggled around so much, I thought I was going to drop it. But I held on tight, and when I showed them, they were both so surprised." She laughed. "Then, I asked my father what I should do with it, and he just smiled and told me to let it go."

Kyia couldn't quite keep the dryness out of her tone as she dusted a particularly tall shelf. "So, all that work…for nothing?"

Delia looked surprised for a moment, then she smiled, a gentle look on her soft face. "I didn't catch it to keep it, you know. The joy was in the trying. In spending time with them. That fish didn't belong to me, and it wasn't my place to take its life." She shrugged lightly. "So, I just let it go."

Kyia paused, her eyes lingering on the faint smile tugging at Delia's lips, and nodded slowly. "I see. Not all things are meant to be killed. How noble of you to wield such power over something, yet choose to spare it."

"Me? Power?" Delia chuckled and reached for another small bite. Kyia continued dusting, but she found herself mulling over the girl's words. She was so naïve. So willing to trust anyone.

Kyia moved to dust the nearby shelves, finally breaking the silence. "Delia, have you ever heard of something called the Dagger of Death's Flowers?"

Delia's face pinched slightly in thought, but then she shrugged again. "Not really… I think I remember one of the other maids saying something about it months ago. But she didn't go into much detail. Just mentioned it in passing, I think."

Kyia felt a twinge of excitement as she edged closer, trying to keep her curiosity concealed. "Oh? And what did she say about it?"

Delia laughed as she shook her head. "Well, nothing much. She didn't know exactly what it was either. The Dimitrescu family has so many old artifacts in this castle, so it could be anywhere, honestly. Sofia mentioned it while we were organizing some of the storerooms. She said she read a note about it. There are so many knives in this castle, anyway."

The maid then mumbled under her breath as she went to take her next bite, "Far too many knives."

Kyia's fingers tightened slightly around her dusting cloth, and she forced herself to keep her face neutral. So, there was someone else who knew of the dagger. If Sofia had even the slightest idea of where it might be, Kyia had to find out. Unfortunately, besides a select few, she did not know the names of any of the other maids.

She turned to Delia, changing the subject once more. "Sofia, you say? What does she look like?"

Delia's eyes swung like a pendulum as she recalled the maid's appearance. "She has light brown hair like me, usually tied up in a braid that goes down her back. Quite pretty, actually. She's usually working around the various hallways, straightening up pictures and whatnot."

Kyia nodded, feeling a sense of satisfaction as her newest lead came into focus. Delia's innocent rambling had proved useful. She now had a description and a new thread to pull.

Delia hummed as she polished off the last bite of her bread, her focus drifting over to Kyia. She brushed the crumbs from her fingers, hesitating before she finally asked, "Kyia, did your parents ever take you fishing? Or... do anything like that together?"

The question barely registered in Kyia's mind as she considered how to go about this new lead. It wasn't until a minute after that she noticed Delia staring down at the ground, the regretful stare already present in her eyes.

The fawn realized that her silence had left Delia uncomfortable. She needed to keep this girl happy, as happiness brought forth more useful conversation. Not wanting to spin another false tale just now, she sighed, shaking her head gently. "I'd rather not think about them, Delia. Not right now, anyway."

But after seeing the guilt on Delia's face fail to wash away, Kyia softened her brow, taking a few steps closer. "It's alright," she said gently. "Truly. I just… I have other things on my mind right now, that's all. Besides, I hope you enjoyed your meal. It was well-deserved."

Delia's shoulders lifted in a weak shrug. "I suppose. My parents were always very good to me. I sometimes forget not everyone had a happy family like mine." She paused, then added with a sigh, "I guess it's easy to take that for granted."

Kyia offered her a reassuring smile. "We cannot choose the lives we're born into. Some of us are simply dealt a better hand than others."

"That's why," Delia said, "I want to become a parent someday. I want to make sure that at least one person in the world doesn't have to suffer from a cruel or unloving parent." She looked up at Kyia, her eyes warm with sincerity. "I want to give them a real home."

"That's... admirable," Kyia replied, forcing a small smile. She saw how truthful this girl was being. If the brunette wasn't so focused on getting out of here, part of her would have considered just how similar she was to Delia at one point in her life. "Not everyone has that kind of ambition. Most people would rather not think about the plight of others at all."

Delia tilted her head. "Do you think you'd like to be a mother someday?"

But that was when a ripple of discomfort crossed Kyia's face, which she quickly tried to hide, though Delia had already caught the subtle shift. "No. I don't think I would ever be."

Delia nodded, knowing better than to press the matter further. "I understand. Being a mother is hard."

"But you're not a mother, are you?" Kyia asked.

"No," Delia answered.

"Unless someone was a mother, I do not think anyone can understand what it is like."

Locwitary – 512 years before Cassandra's arrival

Kyia cradled her infant daughter in her arms, gently humming a tune as the baby stirred around. Vattia and Oenella were sitting nearby, leaning against a smooth, mossy log as they skimmed through worn pages of an old collection of books to study. The small fire nearby crackled as the evening began to make its presence known. The Spector Moons had taken the first step toward setting. In about an hour, the sky would go dark.

"Dinner last night was not too bad," Vattia remarked, breaking her focus from the written knowledge in front of her. "There was barely a handful of nertefs between us. Do you think we could find more tomorrow?"

Oenella let out a low chuckle, shaking her head. "Maybe if someone didn't insist on devouring every fruit that she could reach, there'd be some left for the rest of us."

Vattia raised a brow, pretending offense. "Oh, excuse me," she scoffed, nudging Oenella with her elbow. "Besides, who was it that took the last piece of Penolp? Hmm?"

Oenella laughed. "That's different! You know I love those. You can have the rest of the fruit if you at least save those for me."

Kyia smirked at her friends' banter, her focus on Kalennia but enjoying the lightness of the conversation. She bounced the girl gently, her daughter's wide eyes reflecting the dimming light above. These afternoons gave the brunette a small reminder of the peace she longed to secure for her child. If there was no war going on, then her confidence in the future would have been settled.

She shifted Kalennia slightly, glancing at her friends. "You know," she said, amused, "we could maybe start eating other things besides just fruits. I can cook us soups or eggs. There are many options."

"That'd be wonderful, Kyia," Vattia grinned. "Only, where can we find eggs?"

"More likely the animals would beat us to them," Oenella teased, shrugging. "But we'd better do something about food soon. Maybe venture further next time."

As their conversation went on, Kyia's gaze lingered on Kalennia, a sting of unease crawling down her spine. It was faint at first—almost nothing, like a tiny breeze. But as it grew, it became a warning in her mind.

She inhaled sharply, scanning the surrounding forest. It was quiet—too quiet. She clutched her daughter tighter as her powers pulsated across the field, searching for any sign of life that it could pick up. She knew that there was someone there. No mistaking it.

"Vattia, Oenella," she said quietly yet firmly, holding Kalennia out to them. "Take her. Now."

Her friends exchanged glances, worry flashing in their eyes, but they obeyed without question. Kyia was the strongest of the three, unmatched in her immense power. If there was a threat, she could handle it, even though she willfully avoided murder.

Vattia gently took the child while Oenella stood by. "What is wrong?" The former asked.

"Someone is here," Kyia murmured, her emerald eyes scanning the edges of the clearing. "Just go. I'll meet up with you later."

Oenella hesitated, her hand briefly resting on Kyia's shoulder, as if to offer a last reassurance. "We'll keep her safe, Kyia," she promised. With a swift nod, Oenella took Vattia's hand, and in a flash of sparkling blue light, they were gone—somewhere safer than here.

Kyia exhaled slowly, steeling herself. She felt the energy in her body coursing. Whoever was near, they were getting closer, and she was ready.

The figure emerged from the shadowed trees, his silhouette outlined by the remaining light. Kyia recognized him immediately—Renilvo, the poil she'd encountered once before. He looked tired, the lines of his face etched with exhaustion and stress, his clothes dirt-stained and worn. But she couldn't afford to let her guard down.

"You again," Kyia called out to him. "I thought I made it clear you not to return."

Renilvo raised his hands slowly, palms outward. "Kyia," he answered. "I… I need help."

Kyia's hand instinctively rose as she wove her energy through the air. A flash of flames flickered at her fingertips. Before Renilvo could react, her power gripped him, forcing him to the ground with a sharp, resounding thud. She floated above him before he realized that she was off the ground. The fawn's green eyes were blazing as they set upon him.

"You need help?" She spoke with bitterness. "How am I supposed to believe you? I've heard of what poils do. Prey upon our kindness, and when we reach out to lend a hand, you cut it off!"

Renilvo strained against the invisible force holding him down, his gaze steady despite his discomfort. "Because I know you can help me, and you're the only one who can. I did not come here to trick you, I swear!"

Kyia tightened her invisible grip as she hovered just above him. She didn't trust this man—she didn't trust any poil who came here. Now that they had found her encampment, why wouldn't more show up again?

"Give me one reason," she spat, "why I shouldn't crush you into the dirt." It was a false threat. She did not want to kill him. She wouldn't kill him. The brunette hoped that he would believe her words and run away.

But Renilvo had another piece of information to share. "Because two of my companions are dead," he shouted. "We were attacked by a dhin in the forest just now. The other one is barely clinging to life! Please, just listen!"

Her eyes narrowed, searching for lies in his story. "A dhin attacked you?"

"Yes!" he agreed, his voice barely a murmur. "But please, I've never hurt anyone! I don't think you have either. You can still save him!"

Kyia's expression remained still. She wasn't sure what to do. If he was lying, then she was setting herself up for additional conflict. But if he was telling the truth, then there was someone who was still alive that only her powers could potentially save.

"I believe in what the fawns stand for," he cried out. "Your people are supposed to help those in need. I need a fawn right now, Kyia!"

The words cut through her anger, causing regret and guilt to stir deep inside her. She released her hold on him at that very second, lowering herself to the ground as she walked closer toward him.

Renilvo pushed himself up, his face etched with discomfort as he regained his balance. "I... I don't want to cause you any harm, Kyia." His voice cracked, his eyes searching hers. "I'm only trying to protect my last friend, the same way you would protect yours."

Kyia's gaze hardened. "Fine," she finally agreed. "I'll help you." She stopped and pointed to him right before she took hold of his hand. "If you are trying to deceive me, I promise that you will not enjoy what follows."

Acknowledging her sentiment, Renilvo nodded and extended his hand for the fawn to grasp onto. Once their skin touched, he knew that she would be able to channel both their bodies toward the location of the attack, using him as a means to find the location. He could only hope that they would make it there in time.

...

Kyia pressed her glowing hands against the flailed chest of the dying man. At her side, Renilvo clung onto the bloodied garments of his friend, pleading with him to not die. The fawn focused as intensely as she could, using every fiber of her energy to reconstruct his flesh and stop the bleeding. It quickly became apparent that there was more damage done to him than she had initially thought.

The dhin had torn a path of ruin across his abdomen, slicing entrails into bits. Whatever blood had not exited his body had collected itself within, displaced from his arteries. With each pulsation, she studied the beating of his heart as it grew weaker. He was paler than the whites of her eyes. Ismond, as he was known, was at the throes of death.

Kyia fought to do everything that she could, watching as his skin rejoined and his shattered bones mended together. But it wasn't fast enough. There was no way to save him. As soon as his heart gave way and the warmth departed from his being, she checked for any other means to salvage his life, but there were none.

He was dead, and there was nothing that she could do about it.

When her hands removed themselves from his body and her eyes shut, Renilvo realized that this was it. He broke out into tears at that very moment, clutching onto the last friend that he had. Kyia could only listen to his genuine sorrow as she berated herself for not having acted sooner. Her emerald eyes turned toward the scattered remains of the other two that the dhin had tossed across the woods before it fled at her presence.

She was surrounded by death, despite how much she had tried to avoid it. The curse of the healer.

"I am sorry, Renilvo," she said, shaking her head as a tear formed along her eyelid. But amidst his endless flow, the man hugged her without a second thought.

"Thank you," he wailed. "I wouldn't have been able to be here for him if it wasn't for you."

Her tear released itself down her cheek, and the brunette sniffled as she wrapped her slender arm across his back. She didn't have many words to say. There was nothing that she could do to repair this sort of damage. The best course of action would be to rescue the bodies and bury them somewhere with dignity.

Renilvo's hold on her was tight. She sensed his immense gratitude through his sobbing voice, even though she couldn't save Ismond. "You did what you could."

In the wake of her regret, Kyia sought to rectify her mistakes with the only act of kindness that she could provide now. "Renilvo, we will bury your friends. They will not be left in these woods, I promise. When we are done, I do not want you to go back here. Too many lives have already been lost."

He wasn't able to get much else out besides a strained grunt as his eyes laid downcast on his slaughtered friend, but her words had reached him.

Kyia sealed both their fates with her following statement. "You are welcome to stay with us."

NOTES:

Hope you all enjoyed this latest chapter!

So, it looks like things aren't going too well between the three sisters. Daniela always knew things were heading in this direction, and she feels like there is nothing that she can do. Cassandra feels like she doesn't belong and is singled out, while Bela feels like she has made too many mistakes and is running from them.

Where does this leave Daniela? Well, probably in a very fragile place.

Moving onto Narratha, she's still being confronted with her past decisions and her past overall. There are some big developments coming for her—and sooner than you think.

Kyia, on the other hand, is getting the pieces on her chess board set, and she will be making her next move shortly. She has a new lead on where to go, but what other obstacles will she face? What other new avenues of approach can she undertake?

And again, her past is not her redemption. It is only a reminder of where she came from and why she is the way she is now. Kyia is this story's main villain.

I hope you all have been doing well and are enjoying your weekend! The next chapter will be out in exactly two weeks, so I'll see you on the 16th! Thanks again for supporting my work and inspiring this series. I wish you all well and look forward to the next time we meet!

Stay safe!