Narratha's hands combed through the large basket, prying each wood block and stacking them into rows. The scent of the dampened lumber filled her nostrils, but with the snow around her, it was the only taste of the world to be had. She could feel Marco's eyes on her as she went about her tasks. As tiny as he was, his presence was overwhelming. She turned her head to the side and glanced at him, raising a brow in the process.

"What?" she asked.

Marco's cheeks reddened as he hesitated, then he finally spoke. "I've never seen such a strong woman before, or one who wasn't a lord, I mean."

Narratha's eyes narrowed slightly, though she felt a tiny surge of satisfaction at the comment. It wasn't often she got praise for anything, but if she did, it was regarding her strength. Still, she could not help but find his statement peculiar. "And why are you telling me this?"

The boy's small frame shifted ever so slightly as he sought to keep himself warm amidst the frosty wind. "My father would have had a hard time carrying that big basket," he explained, pointing at the bundle of blocks beside her. He glanced at her arms with an expression of awe, amazed that they were able to lift that kind of weight. "But you didn't struggle."

She followed his gaze down to her own arms, hidden under that long-sleeved black gown. They were neither toned nor overly muscular. Her eyes then drifted down to her wide hips and dense thighs. "Well, maybe it's all in the legs," she muttered, mostly to herself, shrugging one shoulder. She took pride in her form, though body strength had never seemed a priority after she had acquired her powers. "Besides, I've had a lifetime of practice when I was younger. I would do stuff like this often."

Marco's eyes lit up at that, and he scooted forward. "I want to be strong like you."

Narratha sighed, placing another block beside the stack, her patience once again being tested. "Kid, can you stop talking and let me concentrate? This isn't the time for silly, little ambitions."

Marco was quiet for a moment, though she could feel his eyes still lingering on her. "You said you've done this before?"

Narratha resisted the urge to demean him. "I've done labor most of my life," she replied shortly, not wanting to lead him into deeper conversation. "Does that answer your question?"

But Marco didn't seem ready to let it go. He stared at the wood pile, then down at his own small hands, and in a flash, he scrambled over to one of the larger blocks. With great effort, he managed to lift it, his face strained and arms shaking as he barely held onto the weight. It was already too much for him. Narratha's instincts kicked in just as he stumbled, the block slipping from his grasp. In one swift movement, she caught the piece of wood with one hand while the child continued to slip backward.

Marco's back hit the ground with a dull thud as she looked at him, her eyes expressionless but fixated on his next action.

Marco let out a small breath, turning to look up at her, his brown eyes round with disappointment. "Why didn't you catch me?"

Narratha tilted her head and shot him a flat look. "You could handle a little fall," she said dismissively. "You'll live."

Marco's lip quivered slightly, and he mumbled, "That's not nice." The boy clearly felt stupid for having mentioned it.

Narratha's expression didn't change at all as she moved her gaze to the large, rigid piece of chopped wood in her hand. "Neither is having this strike you in the face." She dropped the block onto the snow, allowing the loud thud it made to enter his ears. She nudged the wood with her foot, then stepped back, hands on her hips. "Would you have preferred that?"

The realization dawned on him slowly, and his shoulders dropped as he sat up and looked at her. "Thank you," he whispered.

Narratha scowled, brushing off the gratitude with a wave of her hand. "Just don't get in my way. These are heavy, and I don't want to have to bother with you getting hurt."

Marco's face fell with a damper, and he turned back to his spot on the ground, a sense of defeat as he settled beside the statue of the Maiden of War. He compared Narratha to that brave warrior. She looked like she could fit the role well. A person who stood against danger, filled with pride and purpose.

A protector.

Marco had no clue who wrong he was. But nevertheless, he wanted to be strong just like that maiden. Strong like Narratha.

The redhead returned to her work, piling the last few blocks into the designated area. As she straightened up, she noticed villagers passing by, some casting glances her way, their expressions openly disapproving. They visibly detested the presence of an outsider, whether by disgust or just pure fear.

Her muscles tensed. She'd been here for almost a week, toiling away for their benefit, yet these people seemed to consider her a nuisance, even if most of them refused to speak a word. They were suspicious of her, as though they acted on bias rather than experience.

Before she could stop herself, she let out a groan, tossing the last block a little harder than she intended, causing it to skid along the ground. She groaned again as soon as she realized that she would have to go retrieve it.

"Where are you from?" Marco asked, his voice adding to her already mounting frustration.

"Nowhere," she said quickly, not even glancing at him.

He cocked his head, genuinely curious. "Where's that?"

Narratha shot him a sharp look. "Are you serious?" Her irritation was barely concealed. Did this child truly believe that she had given him a genuine answer?

He nodded. "Yeah. I've never heard of it before. Is it a village like ours?"

Narratha rolled her eyes, though part of her softened at the boy's earnest confusion. Children could be naïve. It wasn't his fault. She let out a sigh, forcing herself to be patient. There was nothing to gain in beating him down verbally. "It doesn't matter where I'm from," she said as she stared off into the distance. "You wouldn't know it if I told you, I promise."

The boy fell silent, his eyes fixed on the muddy, snowy ground. After a little bit, he lifted his head, peering at her with the same admiration he'd had before, as though her veiled answer only made her seem more interesting.

"What's it like?" he asked after a pause.

Narratha's posture adjusted as she leaned over the blocks of wood, her hand resting on her knee. The corner of her mouth twitched as she recalled the memories of how beautiful Locwitary could be. The bright, green forests. The warm climate. The Spector Moons hovering in the air, casting their orange glow across the already-vibrant fields.

"It's..." She stopped, too many words to speak. "It's nothing like this place."

Marco's curiosity was already back. She could see it in the way he stared at her. "Is it scary?"

Narratha nodded but then shook her head in contrast. "It is, sometimes. There are some scary people there." She thought herself with that statement, knowing that she had been nothing but a beacon of ruin for the last ten years. "But it's home." She turned away, grabbing the block and tossing it onto the stack with unnecessary force. "Doesn't matter now, though. I'm here, aren't I?"

Marco watched her quietly for a moment. "Do you miss it?"

The question caught her off guard, but she wouldn't strain her emotions with the answer. "I have to learn to stop missing things I can't have," she said, her tone deliberately absent of consideration for what she regretted.

Her old world. Her old life.

Balia.

Her sister, Nackia.

Nackia… Narratha regretted what she had done to her, all in the pursuit of power. What loving sister would kill the one person who trusted them the most?

Marco's voice took her away from the past. "But you're still strong. Doesn't that mean something?"

She blinked, realizing where she was now. "Strength isn't everything, kid. It won't solve all your problems."

He thought over her words, as did she.

With a sigh, she turned back to her work again, focusing on stacking the wood blocks and getting it done.

"Hey, Narratha?" Marco spoke again. His inquiries were unending.

She clenched her fists as she halted her work. "What now?"

"Thank you," he said, his voice sincere. "For not letting me get hit in the face with the wood, and for... for talking to me."

Narratha felt a small trail of warmth spread across her freckled cheeks. Almost enough to resist the frigid air.

Finally, Marco stood up and approached one of the ledges, trying to pull himself up so he could meet her at eye level. He grunted and struggled, his small arms trembling as he attempted to lift himself, but it was a futile effort; his legs scrambled against the stone base with no progress to be made. His face scrunched up in annoyance, and he finally muttered under his breath, "Why am I so weak?"

Narratha, watching from the corner of her eye, tried to stifle her impatience as she watched him fail. With a grumbling breath, she stepped over, grabbed him around the waist, and placed him onto the statue, right beside the maiden's feet. She didn't bother looking at him, her attention already gravitating back to her work.

She could hear him as he spoke from up there, his voice defeated. It was as if this child subjected himself to a constant stream of low self-esteem. "I hate being so weak."

Narratha's expression remained unsympathetic. "You're six years old," she replied bluntly. "You've got time."

He scuffed the back of his shoe against the stone. "But I want to be strong now."

She let out a groan, picking up her basket of wood blocks. "Complaining about it won't change anything. Strong or weak, you still must work at it." She hefted the basket, and the weight settled comfortably in her arms. "Life isn't about getting what you want instantly, Marco. You've got a lot to learn."

She felt like a hypocrite for having told him that. Her entire life had been spent yearning for the same abilities that the rest of the fawns had. Abilities that never arrived until she tasted the blood of her own kind. But in the end, she understood the truth of it. Complaining never granted her powers.

With that, she began walking away, trying to ignore the creeping feeling of compassion in her chest. Behind her, she heard Marco scrambling down from the ledge. The boy followed her around like a shadow. At this point, she wished that she hadn't allowed him to accompany her.

"Wait!" he called, jogging to catch up. "Can I help?"

She barely paused. "No. It's too heavy for you."

"But how will I ever learn if I can't even try?" he asked, striking a good point. It was a principal that Narratha abided by herself.

She let out an exasperated huff, finally stopping. "You're a little brat, you know that?" she said as she glared at him. "Fine." She plucked a lighter block from the basket, something she knew he could manage, and thrust it into his hands.

A grimace befell her lips. "Don't drop it. And don't fall behind," she ordered, starting to walk once more without a moment's hesitation.

Marco's eyes widened with excitement as he cradled the wood block, gripping it with both hands. He nodded, increasing his pace so that he could keep up with her longer strides.

As they moved along, Narratha's thoughts wandered to the child's persistence and his desire to prove himself. Why did he care so much? What was there to prove to a complete stranger such as her? The kid had parents, undoubtably. Shouldn't he be at home with them?

"You're too young to worry about being strong," Narratha commented, still keeping her eyes ahead as she walked toward the fields. "Your body will naturally get stronger as you grow up."

Marco was silent for a moment, listening to her words and processing them. "I know, but I want to speed it up," he said in a low voice. "I don't want anyone to be able to hurt me... or anyone else."

Narratha's steps slowed slightly, though she didn't fully stop. They continued in silence for a few more paces, and her mind drifted to her old commune. Her entire crusade had been about helping the weak, even though she went about it in the most nightmarish fashion. When the poils entered their grounds and assaulted the fawns, children like Balia were powerless. All the surges had already been led away, which meant that there was nobody there who could effectively fight them off.

She could only imagine how weak her dearest friend felt in her final moments. "Kids... should just be able to enjoy their lives."

Castle Dimitrescu

Alcina's loud voice echoed through the room, filling every corner with her anger. Cassandra's head was bowed, her hood obscuring her face. Her mother stood tall before her, glaring down with a pummeling gaze of disappointment.

"Cassandra…" Alcina began, drawing out the pronunciation of her daughter's name as she did so. "How many times have I told you? I will not tolerate this level of sloppiness. Your messes are becoming unmanageable, and I will not allow you to disregard my instructions any longer."

"Yes, Mother," Cassandra replied, obedient under the command of the woman who created her.

"And Bela," Alcina continued, shifting her amber eyes to her eldest daughter, "you are responsible for ensuring that your sisters adhere to our standards. It seems you've failed to instill any semblance of discipline in Cassandra. Her messes are your messes too, understand?"

Bela, standing beside Cassandra, nodded quickly, her head fixed downward, just like her sister. "Yes, Mother!"

"There is no room for failure in this castle," Alcina continued. "There is a standard to be held here. If this place was nothing but a complete mess, then it would reflect poorly upon all of us, especially myself. I am a lord of this village. Mother Miranda gave me this castle. What would she think of me if it was run like this?"

Bela's lips curled as her head tilted slightly towards the brunette's direction. "Mother, I have tried, but Cassandra doesn't listen to me."

Alcina's eyes narrowed. "I do not accept excuses, Bela, only results. You are the eldest."

"Yes, Mother," Bela replied. She hated to be in this kind of predicament.

Alcina turned her gaze back to Cassandra. This was not over for her yet. "And you, Cassandra, I expect you to follow the rules set for you. You will listen to your sister. There is no debate."

"Yes, Mother," Cassandra said again.

"Let us not have this conversation again," Alcina remarked with a final, stern glare. She left the room immediately after that. The silence that followed was crushing.

Bela took a deep breath, still processing the scolding they'd both received, while Cassandra remained silent, staring blankly at the floor, likely lost in her own thoughts. After a moment, the blonde finally spoke, her voice firm. "You need to stop rebelling, Cassandra. Just listen, and we wouldn't have to go through this."

Cassandra let out a bitter laugh, trying her best to mask the hurt that she felt inside. "Oh, you know what? You can't stand getting yelled at. That's it."

Bela's mouth opened, then shut as her sister's words sank in. She wanted to deny it, but some part of her couldn't lie. She did hate getting scolded by their mother. The shame of failing to meet her expectations was too much to bear. But admitting it—especially to Cassandra—was out of the question.

"This isn't some sort of competition, Cassandra," Bela said. "I don't get any joy out of this. It's not about who gets yelled at more."

Cassandra raised an eyebrow. "Isn't it, though? It's always been a competition, Bela."

Bela felt the resentment in Cassandra's words. But instead of arguing, she took a step back, choosing not to say a single thing. She wasn't about to give in and stoke the flames of her sister's anger.

Cassandra huffed, seeing that she wasn't going to get much out of her. Without another word, she turned around and strode toward the door, leaving the blonde alone in the room.

But just as Cassandra was beginning to find solitude in the hallway, a familiar figure appeared at the end—Daniela.

"Cassandra!" Daniela greeted her. "You look like you're about to explode."

Cassandra's lips twisted in a snarl. "Shut up, Daniela," she snapped, not wanting to deal with anything that the redhead was going to talk about.

Daniela blinked, the spark of confusion setting in her eyes. "What? What did I do?"

"Just go away, alright?" Cassandra's voice rose. "I don't want to deal with you right now."

Daniela took a step back, her heel clicking on the ground in an instant. "Why are you being like this?"

"Why?" Cassandra's tone escalated, her hands clenching at her sides. "Because you never know when to stop, Daniela! Every time I turn around, there you are, babbling on about something I don't care about!"

Daniela's expression fell. "But... I was just trying to talk."

"Well, don't," Cassandra shot back. "You're always prying, always in my space. Just leave me alone, okay?"

Daniela's hands clenched as she took another step back. "Why are you acting like this to me? I didn't do anything wrong! You're just angry, and now you're making it my fault."

Cassandra's fists tightened some more, now shaking. "Maybe it is your fault! Maybe if you didn't constantly pester me, I wouldn't be so annoyed all the time."

"That's not fair!" Daniela trembled. "I'm your sister. I care about you, even when you're being impossible. You're the one who never listens to anyone! Why is it always me who is wrong?"

Cassandra's anger began to boil. Daniela had just echoed Bela's words. "Oh, for once in your life, just shut up, Daniela!"

Daniela opened her mouth to respond, but Cassandra didn't give her the chance. Within a second, the brunette's body dissolved into a swarm of flies, the angry hum filling the air as they buzzed down the corridor at lightning speed.

What did I do? I did nothing!

Her fists shook, and without thinking, she swung one of them into the face of a nearby statue, shattering its face. Pieces of marble rained down, scattering across the floor. Daniela stood there, breathing heavily. Her rage had to go somewhere.

But just as she began to recover from her outburst, a disapproving voice cut through the air. "What did you do, Daniela?"

Daniela whipped around, spotting the disapproving eyes of Bela, which were locked on the broken statue. She appeared to now be just as irritated as Cassandra was.

"Clean it up," Bela said in a voice that was lower and tenser than usual.

Daniela's anger dissolved into panic. "It was an accident, Bela! I didn't mean to—"

"I said clean it up!"

Everyone is so mad at me! Why?

Daniela's eyes sank, and her hands fell to her sides. "I'm sorry, I was just... upset, and—"

"Just leave it," Bela interrupted, her voice strained as if holding back the same kind of venom that Cassandra had spewed. "Go. Now."

Daniela wanted to plead for understanding, but the look in Bela's eyes stopped her. With a defeated nod, she turned and walked away, each step heavier than the last, her usual spark dulled from the regret of speaking.

As Daniela's footsteps faded, Bela let out a long sigh. Kneeling down, she began to gather the broken shards of marble herself. She didn't want to be scolded by her mother again. If Cassandra wouldn't clean up her messes and Daniela was too untrustworthy to remain concentrated, then she would do it. It was at times like these that she felt like she was the only one holding together the fabric of this castle's stability, but she knew that was farther from the truth.

She was more focused on earning Alcina's good comments rather than repairing the damage that was slowly dividing the three of them. She told herself that she would be there for Daniela next time, but this was that next time. And yet, here she was again, pushing her away.

The eldest daughter bore the burden. Every imaginable burden.

The Village

With Marco having left to go to his father, Narratha had finally been granted a sliver of peace as she worked. However, the young boy's words and actions would not allow themselves to be torn from her mind. She shook her head, criticizing herself for having spoken to him at all.

As she walked back to the Maiden of War statue, the call of a loud, unmistakably familiar voice stopped her mid-step. She turned, spotting the Duke's massive frame across the square. He looked perfectly at ease, seated on the back of a disproportionate carriage, his items and wares surrounding him.

"Ah, my dear Narratha! A fine day, isn't it?" His voice rang with amusement, but amusement was the last thing it brought to the redheaded fawn.

Narratha sighed, her irritation flaring up once again. "How did I not see you there?" She said. "There's no way someone your size just...appears out of thin air."

The Duke let out a hearty chuckle, patting his belly. "Maybe it is magic! But alas, no magic for sale today." He winked at her.

She shut her eyes, finding no humor in his remarks. "Then I'll be on my way. Bye, fat man."

"Ah, but I have something I think you'd be most interested in," he said, stopping her dead in her tracks.

She turned her head to look over her shoulder, more out of impatience than curiosity—until her eyes fell upon the object gleaming in his hand.

Her sword.

In an instant, she set down the basket and stormed over, stopping right in front of him with her hand extended outward. "Where did you get that?" she demanded, ready to snatch it from his grasp.

The Duke's smile only broadened. "I have my ways. I find value in all sorts of things, including that which others discard away. Perhaps it should have been discarded. This sword has done quite a few terrible things, hasn't it?"

"You don't know what you're..." she began, only to vigorously shake her head and stop her lies. "What are you? You are not from here; I know it! What is this all about?"

He chuckled, wagging his round finger. "Now, now. Asking a merchant his secrets wouldn't be good for business."

"Enough of your games," she snapped, still reaching for the sword. "Just hand it over. Now!"

He raised the blade just out of her reach. "Ah, but this sword isn't merely a trinket to be given. Imagine if the villagers saw you walking around with a weapon like this. It wouldn't bode well with Mother Miranda, now would it?"

Narratha gritted her teeth, a low growl escaping her lips. She was so close to her weapon, and yet it felt miles away. "Your loyalties lie with her, don't they?"

"Oh, my loyalties are to trade and coin, my dear. But I have my reasons, and it's precisely for those reasons," he said, his smile extending, "that I will only sell this blade to you." He paused as he leaned closer. "But you'll need coin. That is, if you're truly intent on reclaiming it."

Narratha exhaled sharply, her patience struggling to hold everything together. She wanted to kill him. "And where exactly do you expect me to get this coin? I want my damn sword."

The Duke shrugged, grinning as if the answer was obvious. "There are many ways. It just depends on what you're willing to do." He looked back down at the dried blood stains that coated the metal. "But maybe... maybe it's a good thing, hmm? Some time to think things through."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Simply that a person like you ought to consider where they're going," he replied. "A weapon is more than a blade. It's a choice. And choices are, well, something you can't undo. You know that quite well. Lucky for you, you'll get the chance to make some more choices."

Narratha knew enough to realize he wouldn't give her a straight answer. She moved away from his shop, the sight of her weapon in his hands fueling the rage simmering in her chest. "Fine. I'll get your damned coin. That sword goes nowhere in the meantime, understand?"

The Duke bowed his head. "I look forward to our future exchange, Narratha." He then looked up, his eyes meeting hers with a cryptic stare. "Until then, remember—there's always a price."

Castle Dimitrescu – January 26th, 2021

Tension was bounding across the kitchen as the pungent scent of pepper coated the air. Kyia glared at the ruined heap of meat, now topped with an enormous mountain of black pepper. It had been a simple accident in her eyes, but to those of the girls nearby, the fawn had paid no mind to the top of the container when she held it over the counter. In one tragic motion, the entirety of the spices came rushing out.

Aggravated with herself, Kyia shoved the trays away from her, splattering more pepper across the area. That was her second mistake, as it had now created an even bigger mess to clean up.

Luana, who was usually calm, gripped the edge of the table as she looked at Kyia. "Do you even know how much trouble this is going to bring us?" she said, her voice louder than Kyia had ever heard. "How many times are you going to make us suffer for your mistakes?"

Kyia scoffed, refusing to meet her eye. "It's just a bit of spice, Luana. If they want it perfect, they can make it themselves."

If it wasn't her actions that threatened to spell disaster, it was her comments that would likely seal their doom. Insulting the Dimitrescu family was a grave decision. Keen ears were abundant throughout the castle. If even a single fly overheard what had been said...

"Do you hear yourself, Kyia?" Luana's face flashed with anger as she took a step forward. "Do you have any idea what will happen if we mess up their food? You weren't the one punished last time. You didn't get this." She brought up her sleeve, revealing an assortment of dark bruises, still vivid on her pale skin. "This is what Bela did to me. For your mistake."

Kyia's expression twisted with indifference. "You think that's my fault?" she retorted. "I didn't make you stand there and get hit. That's on you."

Luana's mouth fell open, but before she could respond, a small voice broke the silence.

"You're being cruel, Kyia." Sorina's voice spoke meekly as she clutched her hands together, looking at the woman with wide, frightened eyes. Her usual silence made the words feel weighty, as if they'd taken all the courage she had. "Luana works hard."

Kyia's gaze darted toward Sorina; her eyes narrowed in irritation. "Of course you'd side with her," she sneered. "Always so feeble, aren't you?"

Sorina flinched but held her ground. "She's just trying to keep the peace. Why do you keep insulting her?"

"Keep the peace?" Kyia mocked with sarcasm hot on her tongue. "Or does she think she's better than me? You think you are, don't you, Luana?"

Luana tried to talk some sense into her. "No, Kyia. This isn't about being better. You're nasty to us, and for what? You act like we're your enemies when all we're trying to do is survive. Just admit that you're wrong and stop causing problems for everyone."

Kyia's jaw clenched as Luana's words hit her like a physical blow, but her pride refused to let her back down. "I don't owe you anything, Luana. So just shut up and let me work," she snarled, moving past her to grab another portion of meat.

But before her hands could close around it, Luana's hand shot out, gripping her wrist firmly and pulling the food away. "No. You're not allowed to touch another thing in this kitchen, not until you—"

Her sentence broke when Kyia's hand slid to the knife on the counter. Her fingers wrapped around the handle, and before anyone could process it, the blade was at Luana's throat. The sharp edge gleamed in the low kitchen light, mere inches from the blonde's skin.

Sorina let out a shriek, covering her mouth in terror immediately after. Kyia's voice came low and menacing. "I warned you to back off, didn't I?"

Luana froze, gasping as she felt the tip of the metal at her skin. Her eyes, wide with shock, met Kyia's emerald gaze. "Kyia… put the knife down," she said slowly. "This isn't you."

"Oh, isn't it?" Kyia pressed the blade closer. In the heat of the moment, she appeared to be even more psychotic than Cassandra. "Who are you to tell me who I am?" Her attention moved to Sorina. "And you, stop whimpering. Or maybe I'll have to do something about that too. I've had it with the two of you. Do you understand me?"

Sorina's eyes filled with tears, but she kept herself as quiet as she could.

Seeing Sorina's distress, Luana swallowed hard, knowing that she had to do something fast. "If you have to hurt someone, hurt me," she said with a steady voice, aware of the risk that was being placed. "But you don't have to do this."

Kyia's lips twisted into a dark smile. "Oh, but I can do whatever I want. Do you think I'm one of them?" She gestured slightly, referring to the Dimitrescu family. "I'm not. But I'm willing to cross certain lines if I must."

"This isn't the way to get what you want, Kyia," Luana spoke through her choking breath.

The fawn grinned as she stared back at her, her thin hand gripping the collar of Luana's gown. Her hold on the knife tightened, and Luana's heart skipped a beat, bracing for whatever came next. She could feel the will inside this woman to murder her.

But then, slowly, Kyia's hand loosened, her smile fading. She let the knife fall back to her side as she took a step back. "Go to the other side of the kitchen," she spat. "Both of you. And don't open your mouths again."

Luana exhaled, her own shoulders relaxing just slightly. She took Sorina's trembling hand once she made her way across the table, gently guiding her to the corner of the kitchen. While Kyia stood there in silence, Sorina's restrained sobs kicked off under the crook of Luana's neck as she held her close.

Kyia looked back at the girls as she sat the knife down on the counter and stretched out her tense back. It appeared as though she was in a state of disbelief as well, to some degree, at least. Luana couldn't measure the brunette's capacity for violence, but it was clear that it did exist—just how much so was the question that she feared would be answered one day.

But for now, all she could do was take care of her closest friend, desperately ensuring that Kyia would not get anywhere near her. "It's okay, Sorina," Luana whispered.

Sorina's hands held onto her for dear life. "I don't want to be here!"

As soon as the girl's cries were heard, Kyia suddenly erupted in an explosive fit of anger, reaching for the knife again. Her scream was so loud, so soul-shattering. The way her eyes went wide with rage horrified the pair more than any of the Dimitrescu daughters. "Shut up!"

The kitchen went quiet. Not a single sound to be heard.

It was exactly what Kyia wanted.

January 30th, 2021

Kyia sat in her corner, not making eye contact, barely moving unless it was absolutely necessary. She had taken to sitting there whenever Bela wasn't around, only shifting to make it look like she was working when her footsteps were heard nearby. It had become a silent agreement, of sorts. Luana and Sorina kept their heads down, working as quietly as they could. Neither wanted to provoke the brunette, who had already shown them exactly what she was willing to do to keep her authority.

The fawn listened to the chopping of the vegetables as she remained motionless. She knew the impact that her actions had on the other cooks, but she didn't care. She preferred the oppressive atmosphere that she created compared to the feelings of belittlement that she used to endure.

The incident from a few days ago remained imprinted in Sorina's mind, causing a sense of dread every time she glanced Kyia's way. And though Luana was trying her best to move forward, the memories of that knife at her throat kept her awake at night.

With them sharing a room with Kyia, there was no telling if she was ever going to take that knife and murder her while she slept. There was no sleep at this point. Both she and Sorina were so deathly tired, exhausted by fear.

Nevertheless, Luana and Sorina kept their eyes on their tasks as they prepared the afternoon meal. But as the kitchen work neared completion, Luana realized that she needed a specific pot that sat near Kyia. She shuddered at the thought of having to speak to her, but she couldn't avoid it.

"Kyia…" Luana's voice rattled slightly as she asked, her eyes carefully averted. "Would you hand me the large pot, please?"

Kyia's eyes displayed a silent irritation, and her fingers twitched as she reached over, slowly sliding the pot towards Luana. She didn't break eye contact; her gaze locked like a spider waiting for a fly.

Luana swallowed as her hand took hold of the pot. Before she returned to her side of the kitchen, she mumbled quietly, "Thank you."

Kyia watched them both, retreating into her thoughts only once they resumed their work. In the days since their confrontation, she'd set a plan in motion, planting seeds of doubt in Delia's mind about Luana and Sorina's loyalty, stating that she felt they were only willing to protect themselves. By the time she was done, she'd make sure that the two were painted as untrustworthy.

She had other priorities, after all; she still hadn't gotten any closer to locating the dagger.

Just as her mind wandered over strategies, the sharp sound of footsteps outside snapped her attention back. She barely had time to stand before the door swung open and Bela entered, her amber eyes immediately landing on Kyia's still figure. The fawn only realized how much her thoughts had shut her away from the world around her when it was too late.

"What exactly do you think you're doing?" Bela screamed as she saw Kyia nestled on that stool.

Kyia scrambled to find an answer, but before she could say a word, Bela was already in front of her face. "Who do you think you are?" she demanded, her voice getting louder with each word. "Sitting around while everyone else works?"

Kyia opened her mouth to drum up an excuse, only to be grabbed by the front of her apron and thrown to the ground. She hit the floor hard, gasping in pain, but Bela didn't let her catch her breath. In a matter of seconds, the blonde was on her, raining down blows that landed with a punishing storm of pain.

"You lazy, worthless servant!" Bela snarled as she struck her, pummeling her skinny back. "How dare you defy my orders! I will not have you ruin this kitchen!"

Kyia's hands shot up, trying to protect her face, but the blows kept coming, relentless and merciless. "Please—stop!" she managed to cry out. But Bela wasn't finished. With a swift movement, she pulled out her sickle and pressed the blade against Kyia's throat.

The cold edge of the metal sent a shiver of fear down Kyia's spine, signaling to her that the end of her life could occur right now. She tried to summon the magic within her, hoping for even the faintest spark, but there was nothing. Save for a breath of warmth across the tips of her fingers, she was helpless, entirely at Bela's mercy.

"I will end you right now," Bela said.

"I'm sorry," Kyia stammered, still contending with the agony in her bones. "I was…distracted. It won't happen again!"

Bela's expression remained still, but something about the way her eyes glared at Kyia made it seem like she had already gotten what she came here for. The edge of the sickle was withdrawn from Kyia's throat, but that didn't mean that this was all over. "Oh, I will make sure of that!" She stood up. "The kitchen will do just fine without you. But don't worry, your work is far from done!"

Bela grabbed her by the arm and dragged her from the kitchen, ignoring her grunts of pain as they moved throughout the castle. Once they reached a doorway above the stairs, the blonde let go of the fawn with a cold disregard. "You better stand up, right now."

Kyia shuffled to her feet as best she could, right as the doorway before her opened.

The library.

Bela shoved Kyia inside, and the brunette stumbled forward, catching herself just as she saw Daniela lounging on a plush couch, a book in her hand. She looked up with a curious smile as she saw her new 'assistant' standing there.

"Daniela, Mother has approved Kyia as your second personal maid," Bela announced, right before turning to leave. "Make sure she's kept busy."

With that, Bela was gone, leaving Kyia standing there, feeling as though the ground had shifted beneath her. She turned to find Daniela watching her with an amused look, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"So," Daniela spoke, gracing the edge of the paper with her gloved finger. "Do you enjoy books, Kyia?"

Locwitary – 512 years before Cassandra's arrival

Kyia sat with her infant daughter on her lap, the little one's tiny hands reaching out as her mother fed her. Across from two sat Renilvo as he ate in silence.

It had only been a week since the deaths of his friends and his subsequent invite to stay with the fawn. But despite Kyia's willingness to help him, there was a chill of unease among the others. Vattia and Oenella sat nearby, eyeing him with suspicion as they ate their meals. Neither had spoken much to Renilvo since his arrival, nor showed any inclination to do so now. The tension was there, and Kyia found herself making conversation partly out of kindness but also out of discomfort with the atmosphere around them.

As she gently patted Kalennia's back, she noticed Renilvo's gaze drifting toward her daughter, his eyes lingering in a way that caught her attention. She cleared her throat softly, raising an eyebrow. "Is there something you need, Renilvo?" she asked, her voice calm but cautious.

Renilvo seemed momentarily taken aback, his face coloring slightly. "Oh, no—I was only admiring your daughter. She... reminds me of my brother's little girl, Casta. She was born about a year ago," he replied with a friendly smile.

Kyia kept her guard but returned the smile with a slight nod. "Kalennia here is only a few months old," she informed him.

Renilvo's smile deepened. "She's beautiful. I always wanted to have children, but my journey across the world seemed like something I needed to do first. Some things you just have to do."

Kyia tried her best to remain kind, knowing that this man was far from home. "Kalennia certainly changed things for me. But then, I think things just happen when they are meant to. She didn't give me much of a choice," she added with a soft laugh.

Renilvo chuckled, his eyes not leaving hers. "She's lucky to have a mother like you. I would say you seem very fit for the role,'" he said.

Kyia couldn't help but feel a bit of happiness at his compliment, though she remained mindful of the watchful gazes of Vattia and Oenella, who both seemed to stiffen slightly, exchanging a peek at each other. Their distrust wasn't unfounded. There had been records of poils intermingling with fawns, even for an extended period of time. One way or the other, someone got hurt, and it was most often the women.

"Renilvo," Kyia began, cradling Kalennia gently in her arms, "why did you and your companions choose to journey here?"

Renilvo's eyes drifted across the ground as the warm wind blew across his hair. "There's so much out there we don't understand. It didn't feel right to just ignore the rest of the world. With the war still going on, I just wanted to find a safe place to raise a family."

A scoff broke out from Vattia, who couldn't resist interjecting. "Your people were safe enough in your own lands, weren't they?" she said to him, her emerald eyes gleaming with contempt. "There was no need to come invading ours."

Kyia shot her friend a sudden look. "Vattia," she murmured sharply, "stop it." She turned back to Renilvo right after. "Sorry. It's just that this war hasn't been good for any of the fawns. We don't want it. We never did."

Vattia rolled her eyes and folded her arms over her chest.

Renilvo, however, tried his best to be civil. "I've heard plenty of stories about the fawns and the war. I'm cautious, but I wanted to see the truth myself. It's better than believing what you've been told."

"Being a mother has made me cautious," Kyia confessed as she glanced down at Kalennia, brushing a hand over her baby's soft hair. "I think it's good that you're cautious too, especially if fatherhood is something you want one day."

Renilvo's eyes lingered on her. "I think that caution is what makes you a good mother, Kyia."

Kyia's smile broadened, only for her to quickly avert her eyes and close it down once she realized that it had appeared. "Thank you, Renilvo," she replied. Her attention then drifted toward Oenella and Vattia, who both appeared worried about the conversation that the two were having.

Kyia didn't know what to tell them. There was no plan for exactly when this man would leave. It was clear that both her friends were visibly unhappy during each meal they shared together. However, as selfish as it sounded, Kyia felt like she was willing to let that be.

For some reason, there was a part of her that was beginning to enjoy these conversations. It brought her a great level of concern, no doubt.

Not just concern—but curiosity.

NOTES:

Welcome back! I hope you've all enjoyed this newest chapter! Releasing this a day early because the weekend will be busy for me.

So, a lot of stuff went down here.

Narratha's past is never too far away from her. Between what made her a villain and what she did as one, the fawn knows that she did what she did. Is she still violent and willing to kill anyone who gets in her way? Yes. However, is she still the woman she used to be? Somewhat.

Marco seems to view the fawn as someone good. We'll soon learn the reasons for this and what it means for her. Unlike Kyia, Narratha has shown some redeeming qualities, I'll admit. In Fragmented Flies, we've seen how she can be when she has the upper hand, so it stands to be seen what her future choices will be like.

As for Daniela, the rift between her and Cassandra is widening, as well as her and Bela. Her journey hasn't seemed to be taking shape, but it will begin in a different way compared to the other two stories.

Kyia's actions in this chapter are proof that, power or no power, she is an unhinged individual. I think this chapter really showcased her mentality, as evidenced by how she acts towards others, only to rebound when on the other end. She is a hypocrite and completely apathetic to the suffering of others.

Yet she wasn't always like this. I'm excited about presenting her backstory. It is going to be a truly beautiful and sad experience, showing how Locwitary's most powerful fawn changed the course of universes and, in the process, fell from the grace of what she used to believe.

What will happen now that she is assigned to be Daniela's second assistant? Truthfully, nothing good... for anyone.

The next chapter should be out on the 23rd, unless there's any delays, in which case, the 30th.

I hope you are all doing well out there! Thank you so much for sticking around throughout these last two years. You have all been so amazing, and I wish you a safe and enjoyable weekend! See you soon!