Castle Dimitrescu - February 1st, 2021

As Daniela shifted through the pages of her book, the only thing her mind could focus on was how she and her siblings had been at odds with one another over these last few days. She still couldn't pinpoint when it all began. There never seemed to be a single cause that started this rift. Cassandra was always so moody, and Bela was constantly occupied with her role as the big sister. It left the redhead in an odd place; a space where she felt like she simply existed in.

As she shut the cover of her favorite book and laid her hand upon it, her amber eyes gazed upwards at the skylight, wondering what life would be like when the summer finally returned. Cassandra would surely be out of the castle, soaking up every hour that she could before their mother mandated their inevitable return.

I really hope Cassandra changes her mind and lets me hunt with her. I think if she's in a place where she can be happy, then maybe she'll ease up. Ugh, I just don't get it. When did all this happen? We were doing so well, and now, now it just feels like we're slowly drifting apart. I almost don't even want to try anymore because I feel like I'm just going to get hurt, but I still have to try!

She sighed as she bowed her head, only for her eyes to reopen once Kyia approached her with that glass of wine in her hand. Daniela had forgotten that it was what she had asked for.

"Your wine, Miss Daniela," the brunette said, her face as neutral as could be.

Daniela didn't offer a single word as she reached out to take it, her gaze lingering on Kyia for a bit before she sent the maid away with a nod. As the slender woman returned to fixing the stacks of books that littered the floors, the redhead could not stop staring at her.

What an odd woman she is. Delia always looks so worried, but this one acts like there is nothing on her mind at all. Hmm… strange. I guess I just haven't gotten used to her yet.

Bringing the rim of the glass to her mouth, Daniela enjoyed a sip of the crimson liquid. Sanguis Virginis was the best drink in the land, but in the winter, it was often in short supply. As much as Cassandra loved to down bottles of the stuff, Bela ensured that the stock was kept out from her prying hands. Her sisters never inspected the library, nor did their mother, for the most part. It was ironic how several bottles could be left out in the open without a care in the world.

Daniela glanced at Kyia again as she enjoyed her wine, her tongue gracing the chalice as it savored the mixture of blood. Delia was nearby, still dusting the shelves like she always did. It had still been on the noblewoman's mind to practice kissing with her. All those romance stories had prepared the perfect words that she would say to the man of her dreams whenever he would finally arrive, but it did nothing to prep her for the big moment.

She wanted to be perfect. There could be no slip-ups. No mistakes that would forever stain her reputation with him. If she could find out what it was like to dabble in such endeavors with Delia, then perhaps she could learn what she needed to learn.

However, there was one glaring problem: Delia had to have been twenty years old. It would be no surprise if she was inexperienced in love. What would she know about kissing?

With a silent grunt, Daniela rolled her eyes as she swallowed some more of her drink. Before she knew it, the wine glass had been emptied out. "Argh!" She bemoaned, "Kyia! Another refill!"

The brunette ceased her duties without question, grabbing the wine bottle nearby and returning to her master. "Yes, Miss Daniela," she replied in that same, flat tone. As soon as she was back on the couch, there was already a fountain of red being poured out into the silver cup.

Daniela watched as the level neared the top, cutting it off with a wave of her finger. Kyia promptly pulled back the bottle and nodded, moving to place it on the stand beside her.

"Kyia," Daniela asked, "how old are you?"

With her hands respectfully cupped at her waist, the thin woman glanced at her with those emerald eyes. Her sharp cheeks glimmered under the light from above, bordered only by the massive bun of curly hair that protruded from the back of her skull. "Thirty-six, Miss Daniela."

"Oh…" Daniela sat up, tilting her head as she squinted her eyes a bit. "We often do not get maids in that age range. Usually mid-twenties, the latest."

"I have heard, Miss Daniela." Kyia was stone-faced, bereft of any sense of emotion. It had to have been an intentional display, which only made the redhead want to see what kind of reactions were underneath her exterior.

Yet, there was only one lingering question that sat on her tongue.

"Have you ever loved someone, Kyia? Romantically?"

As soon as that question had been spoken, there appeared to be a noticeable shift in her demeanor. Kyia shifted her foot, digging her heel into the ground without even thinking about it. There existed such a blatant crack in her façade, and even Daniela noticed it.

Torn between truth and an obvious lie, the fawn erred on the side of caution. She could not afford to find herself under the wrathful hands of another one of these wretched siblings. "Yes, Miss Daniela. A long time ago."

Daniela paused without saying anything else, unknowingly leaving herself and Kyia in a staring contest.

She has loved someone before! Did they love her back? What was it like? Does love always end on such a bad note? She looks so unhappy. Eh, all the maids do, so maybe that's why. Hmm… does she have kids? Did she have kids? What was kissing like? Has she ever given herself to a man? So many questions!

"You may go now, Kyia."

The brunette nodded obediently, repeating the same motions as before as she returned to her work. Daniela could only watch her again as she did, wondering about what Kyia's past may have been like. The woman was old enough to have experienced the same things that she wanted to do. It made her wonder if this servant could be the best avenue to learn from.

Kyia looks like a proper woman. Almost Victorian, even. Oh! I love those romance books set in the Victorian era! If she fits the part, then it would be perfect!

That was when her mind shifted course and deviated back to the impulses that she had prior. The only difference was that now her subject had changed. It would not be Delia, but possibly Kyia. Daniela wanted someone who knew what they were doing when the time came. While she lacked the desire for a woman, she understood that there were no other options. Had their mother allowed men inside the castle to work, then this would have been accomplished years ago.

Sadly, it was such a tightly controlled environment that she would just have to make do. A man would one day arrive in her life; she just knew it. But until that day came, she needed to prepare.

And what better person to help her prepare than someone who knew love?

The Village – later that afternoon

Narratha shook her head, mildly groaning as she pushed the wheelbarrow across the snow—with Marco sitting on top of the logs inside. "When I said that I could push this, I did not mean I wanted you adding more weight to it."

The little boy chuckled as he watched the freckled redhead glare at him, knowing that behind that piercing stare, she was still mildly amused. "But you can still push me."

"Yes," she said, dipping her head as her arms ached with soreness. "I get that. The wheels on this thing make it so much easier, but that doesn't mean I'm not getting tired from going back and forth across this cursed village."

He hopped out of the wheelbarrow within seconds, clutching onto the sides as his short legs dangled in the air momentarily. Narratha didn't move the contraption until he was safely on the ground. Nevertheless, as soon as his feet touched the snow, he was already trotting around to stand beside her. "I thought you said that you never get tired."

With a flat brow, she lowered her eyelids at him as her lip curled. "I didn't say that I never get tired. I said that I can work for a long time because I'm used to it."

"Has it been a long time then?" Marco asked with innocence in his voice. She couldn't be mad at him. It was just odd that for someone so young, his remarks were either witty enough or relatively smart.

"It has." Narratha bit down on her pride, accepting that she had been worn out for a while now. Turning her attention back to the wheelbarrow, she set her sights on the house nearby. "When I'm finished dropping off these blocks of wood, then I'll try to find the time to eat something."

"Lord Heisenberg lets you eat?"

It was a funny question, indeed. "Not as much as I'd prefer, but I don't think food is abundant here."

Marco brought his hands together at his waist, gently tapping his forefingers against one another as his eyes drifted across the surrounding settlement. "My father… He says that we don't get to eat so much because of the winter."

Narratha followed his gaze, studying the harsh effects of the snow. It littered the entire village. The various animals that should normally have been outside were resigned to their confines, a reminder that this dreadful cold impacted every lifeform. People clutched onto their thick coats, yet they could not escape the chill of the air that made their breath visible before them as they hurriedly walked to their homes. It was an especially cold afternoon, even without the brisk wind.

"I suppose I can believe that," she said, brushing her hand across her hair. "Still, there are people here who appear to be well-fed, or at least, fed. You're so skinny, even for such a such a young child."

"I know," he answered her quietly, as if he was dancing around the subject and not wanting to get into it. "I eat what I can, but I wish I was like you."

"Hmm?" She raised an eyebrow, touching her stomach without a second thought. "What does that mean?"

"Oh, I, uhm…" He didn't know what to say. The boy didn't want to risk upsetting her again.

But his concerns were quickly washed away, along with Narratha's aggravation. She stifled the tension with a chuckle, shutting her eyes and breathing away her anger. "Well, I do enjoy eating."

"But you're not fat!" Marco still tried to correct himself. "I think you could eat more!"

She couldn't help but laugh at what she heard. "Oh, you're such a terrible liar. I know I'm not fat, but child… I am not so thin." Narratha balled her fist and gently pounded her knuckles against her large thigh. "Dense as ever, even if it is soft. I can't tell you when the last time I felt my bones was."

Pushing his fears aside, Marco joined her in a short bout of laughter. He mimicked her actions, despite his yielding different results. "I can feel mine! I think if I eat more, then maybe I'll have legs like yours!"

"Mm-hmm…" She crinkled her nose as she looked at him. "Or… You might end up looking like that bulbous mountain of flesh that sells things around here."

"The Duke!" Marco's eyes lit up in an instant. "He's always selling the best things."

She rolled her eyes, craning her neck to see if the merchant was still around. He always popped up in the most unexpected of places. Narratha wouldn't have been surprised if he was right behind her as she spoke. "He sells things; you got that right."

"Hey, Narratha!" Marco was practically jumping in the air as he said her name. The fawn turned her glance back to him, raising her eyebrow with a hum as her hand rested on her left hip.

"Yes?"

"Can I show you something?"

Her shoulder shrugged. "I suppose so. What is it?"

Bobbing around, Marco's head turned in all directions as he tried to orient himself. "It's at my house, but I will be right back, okay?"

For a second, she didn't want him to leave, fearing that he would either get lost or have something happen to him. But as her mind thought about it again, she remembered that he knew this village more than she ever would. She inhaled a deep breath, speaking as she exhaled, "Sure."

"Thank you!" He didn't stick around for a moment longer before he trotted off, his tiny legs fighting against the mounds of snow in his path as he sought to pick up speed. As she watched him go out on his own, Narratha gripped her hand along the handle of the wheelbarrow, wondering if she was tempting fate by standing around idly.

Heisenberg had been adamant about her following the rules that were laid out for her. While Mother Miranda was the one in charge of everything, it was he who was her direct overseer. There existed an agreement between the fawn and that bearded scoundrel.

She was allowed to work by herself if she worked efficiently. The villagers were not to be interacted with unless necessary, and that was more of a concern of what Miranda would do to her above all else. Heisenberg seemed to view children as nothing more than a nuisance. An innocent soul like Marco was not as important to him as a young man who could understand some of the outlandish things that the redhead would speak.

Her origin from another universe was still up for debate. Heisenberg may not have believed it, but he knew that she had special qualities. No one was ever safe from the Lycan infection, except the lords. If she had no cadou in her body, then he had to find out what it was that saved her from changing into one of them.

Narratha understood his curiosity. She played on it as best she could, using it to win herself some comfort. But she also understood that it had to cut both ways. She provided him with more information, even a blood sample, which he had taken last night. She knew that fawn blood affected her own kind horrifically, but poils gained no power from it. Would people from another world fare better? She wouldn't know.

He still knew nothing about her qualities, and she intended to keep it that way.

As Narratha approached the next house to drop off the wood to, she brought her hands up to her mouth to warm them up. With a swift blow, she sent a wave of hot air onto her skin. Her fingers curled into her palms before her green eyes set themselves upon the door in front of her. She knocked three times, taking a step back right after she did so.

The distorted voice of an older man could be heard speaking behind the barrier, but Narratha could hardly make out a single thing that was being said. A pair of footsteps quickly advanced to the front, faster than it seemed a person of that age could muster. The handle turned, and as soon as the threshold broke, she was greeted by a young brunette.

Elena.

Narratha recognized her immediately, but she chose not to address it at all. It was business as usual. The blocks of wood were to be distributed to the listed houses. No conversations required. It wasn't like most of the villagers wished to speak with her anyway. She was treated like the outsider that she was. An occasional "thank you" would appear, but the redhead wouldn't have much to say for it. The doors would shut, and she would find herself alone in the cold—minus Marco nearby.

"Oh," Elena said as she raised her eyebrow. "It's you. How are you?"

Narratha glanced at her momentarily before her eyes fell onto the blocks of wood that were supposed to be handed out. The total was five, just as the list that Heisenberg had given her ordered. The only kindness that she could muster came out in the form of providing the brunette a choice of which to take. She pointed to the wheelbarrow, speaking with a dull voice. "Just pick five that you like."

Elena reached down to take hold of the first one, seemingly undeterred by the woman's lack of a proper response. As soon as the first block was in her hand, she spoke again. "I haven't seen you in a few days."

"I'm around." Narratha kept her eyes away from her. She just wanted to get the matter over with. Speaking with the villagers was a strange thing for her. These were people from a foreign universe, despite how much they reminded her of the poils from back home. Marco was also a tad bit odd, but him being a child allowed her to overlook some of those things.

Even across realms, childhood innocence appeared to remain consistent.

Elena took four more of the wooden blocks, placing them on the ground beside her feet. She didn't place much thought into the ones she pulled, but her movements were slow. A woman her age should have been quick. She was thinking of something.

"We don't get outsiders too often," Elena remarked, tilting her head up as she straightened out her body. "It's even more uncommon to see one put to work."

"You have what you need," Narratha said as she got ready to pick up the handles and move to the next home. But Elena reached out, beckoning her to spare just another minute of her time.

"Wait! Where are you from? I must know."

The redhead shut her eyes briefly, torn between her desire to simply walk away or respond in anger. Either outcome seemed reasonable, but she reminded herself of the fruit that Elena had so kindly spared her in the beginning. It warranted a better reaction than contempt.

"I sadly don't have time to talk," Narratha responded with a long-winded breath, signifying that she wanted to cut the conversation short. She took a step back, the tip of her shoe tapping the porch as the flakes of snow began to land on her back. Just as she was about to move further down the steps, she heard the familiar patter of Marco's footsteps through the thick snow.

The boy's audible exhaustion followed. "I'm… I'm back!" He ran up to the house, stopping right beside Narratha as her eyes shifted toward him. He was holding what appeared to be an oddly shaped book in his hands, devoid of any sort of cover. It appeared to just be made solely from paper.

His eyes then beset themselves on the lady nearby. "Oh, hi Elena!"

Elena's smile lit up her face as she waved at the lad. "Marco! Good to see you!"

"Are you friends with Narratha too?"

The freckled fawn's teeth grit as soon as she heard that statement. Her eyes widened for a second, only to pinch into a tight pull. "Marco…" She spoke through her grin. "Must you?"

"What?" He glanced up at her. "I just saw you two talking and…"

"Ugh," Narratha cut him off. "Never mind. I'm onto the next house. Come. We must go."

Elena's smile faded a bit, for whatever reason. There was a look in her eyes that made her seem concerned, but Narratha did not study it for too long. She already wanted to leave. "Hey," she said, "I must warn you: Mother Miranda forbids us to speak to outsiders, especially our children."

Narratha clenched her fists. She knew that this wasn't Elena's call, but to be the bearer of bad news did not mean the redhead would simmer down inside. Her first instinct was to blame Marco for following her. It would have been an easy excuse that could be forgiven. It was the boy's choice, not hers, but Narratha could not ignore the weight of her choice as well.

She had to be honest. "What would she do if she saw him walking next to me?"

"Uhm…" Elena wasn't too sure. She brought her hand up to her chin, her gaze moving back and forth between the pair. "I can't say that she would do anything to Marco, but she would not think twice about punishing you."

Narratha responded with only another long breath. She wanted to say so much, but felt that it was best to keep her mouth shut. Insulting Mother Miranda in front of any of the villagers was a risky move. Their loyalty to her seemingly knew no bounds. Even if Elena was as kind and compassionate as she came off as, there was no telling just where the line was drawn.

"Of course," Narratha said with a nod, glancing down at Marco. She didn't want to risk him getting hurt for no reason. A part of her wanted to tell the boy to go away and never return to her, but her mouth again would not move. She was caught between a rock and a hard place, boxed in with nowhere to go.

Just as Narratha's feet landed on the snow, Elena called out to her again as she followed the fawn onto the snow. "Look, I don't know if I should be helping you."

"Then don't."

Elena swallowed her impatience, digging into the pocket of her gown as she eyed the battle-worn woman. Her voice was low, as if having Marco hear it was cause for alarm. "Have you met the Duke?"

"Unfortunately…"

The brunette shook her head softly. "Miranda and the lords will not spare you medicine or food, but he will." She withdrew her hand, showcasing several silver coins in her possession. "This should be enough for a few days. I've seen them working you for hours on end. My advice: eat something the moment you buy it. Mother Miranda must not see it."

Narratha was stunned, raising her eyebrow as she parted her lips. Her voice was equally as low. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the look of confusion on Marco's face. He couldn't hear a single word. "You lack faith in her?"

"I do not," Elena affirmed, placing the coins into Narratha's hand. "But I do not approve of the way she treats outsiders. It is not right."

The redhead was at a loss for words. Instinct propelled her to pocket the coins as soon as she closed her fist. Before she could say anything, Elena quickly stepped back, her father calling her name in the background. "Narratha, right? You take care now."

The young woman shut the door behind her back as soon as she could. Narratha listened as the sounds of the blocks of wood being dragged across the floor were heard. Mumbling followed, indiscernible in nature.

The fawn sighed as the boy approached her side. Marco's eyes were still rife with question. "What was she saying?"

Narratha rolled her lips, still contemplating the act. "She said that it is cold outside and that I should get warm."

"Elena is so nice!" Marco stated, hopping a little bit as he held his book to his chest. "She's always looking out for people."

She nodded, her eyes trailing back to the home. "Yeah… I must remember that."

"Can I show you what I brought?"

"Yes, Marco," Narratha turned away from the dwelling, ready to continue her walk to the next one. "You may. What is this that you have?"

Underground

The air inside the laboratory was rife with decay. At the heart of the chamber, a steel table bristled with vials, syringes, and pulsating fragments of the mold. Legacies of trial and error had been tested on its surface. Projects and specimens kept in glass jars. Illustrations of what could be, what once was, and what tragically was now, littered the walls and ceiling from top to bottom.

The prophet of the village strode around within its confines silently, her mind teetering with the many thoughts that populated her plagued soul. However, there was no longer the question of success. No internal discussion as to whether this would work or not.

Behind her, the faint sound of sobbing echoed. Mia Winters was slumped in the corner of a cell, her face streaked with tears. The soft light of the lanterns around barely reached her, and she was cloaked in shadow, confined within the damp space. She already knew why she was here, but there was nothing else she could do about it besides begging.

"Let me go!" Mia's voice cracked, but it only drew a low chuckle from Miranda. The two had crossed paths many times before. Miranda's work on the mold was the forefront of the operation that spearheaded Mia's income. Transporting the dangerous cargo was her way of life. A turn towards greed that caused the brunette to shelter her truths away from the man who loved her.

She understood Miranda well enough, which only made her pleas for mercy and understanding seem more futile.

The feathered woman turned, her dark robes swaying around her as she approached Mia's cell. A syringe filled with crimson liquid glimmered in her gloved hand, the substance reacting subtly to her touch, tiny bubbles writhing in response. She had already withdrawn some blood from her subject. What went down inside that house in Louisiana laid bare the true effects of unregulated mold within new territory.

However, it was the procreation that followed that fueled her scientific curiosity. Never before had two infected hosts turned toward one another and created new life. Even more astounding, however, was the fact that one of those hosts was already deceased—yet still alive.

"Your cries are wasted here," Miranda said, her voice calm and almost soothing, but undercut with a chilling edge that betrayed her gentle tone. "Your husband won't come for you, at least not for long. I've made certain of that."

Mia's breath stalled as she pressed herself against the rusted iron bars. Her wide, tear-streaked eyes locking onto Miranda, though they did not hide her fury, either. "What have you done to Ethan?" she demanded.

Miranda tilted her head, a cruel smile curling her lips through that golden-beaked mask of hers. "Oh, I wouldn't worry about Ethan. Let's just say he's exactly where I need him to be—home. His life is uninterrupted, for now. A wondrous specimen that he is. Part of me is even willing to consider what potential he may have for the future. Between my false children, I never found any of them… particularly successful. But Ethan? Well, he is worth the thought."

Mia's sobs turned into dry gasps, her body trembling as she imagined her husband at the brink of suffering yet another terrible event. "Why… why are you doing this? What do you want with me?"

Miranda held up the syringe, observing the way the blood inside roiled under her influence. "Your blood is fascinating, Mia," she murmured, almost to herself. "A vessel for the mold, yet resilient, nurturing… A rarity, even among the countless experiments I've conducted. But, as promising as it is, it is not perfect."

Miranda moved to her workbench, her robes brushing against the floor as she set the syringe into a specialized container. Her fingers danced over instruments, and she began to hum softly. As the device spun, she turned back toward Mia, her amber eyes gleaming.

"However, you've provided the perfect foundation," Miranda continued. "Rose's DNA is exactly what I need. With her as my vessel, I will bring my Eva back. After all these years—a century—I will have my daughter returned to my arms once more."

"You're insane!" she screamed, attempting to grab at her through the bars of her cell. "You're not taking Rose! You'll never touch her!"

Miranda's laughter filled the chamber. "You think so?"

She returned to her workbench, carefully placing the concentrated sample of Mia's blood into a tray that she now held. With a subtle motion, she let her fingers hover above the sample, and the mold responded, bubbling and frothing like a living entity. Perhaps it was.

"Do you see?" Miranda commented. "It already knows me. It yearns to serve me, to fulfill my purpose." She turned her gaze back to Mia, a cruel smile returning to her face. "The Megamycete serves its purpose within my hands, just as Rose shall. My Eva will live again."

Mia screamed in defiance, but it only brought out further laughter from the deranged tyrant. Miranda set the blood sample down on the table nearby and carefully dipped her finger into it.

"Ethan will not allow you to touch her!" Mia shouted.

"Oh, of course!" Miranda giggled as she withdrew her finger. In a blink, her body became encased in a murder of crows, which then dissipated within seconds, leaving only an exact copy of Ethan's imprisoned wife standing before her. "But when he returns home later this evening, he will welcome me with open arms."

Mia could not believe what she was witnessing, but the grave ramifications of it could not be ignored. Miranda was poison in its purest form. Ethan and Rose were in danger, and there was nothing that she could do.

He didn't expect danger to come knocking at their door – only his loving wife.

Castle Dimitrescu

The library was mostly quiet, save for the sweeping of the duster against the bookshelves. From her seat at the edge of her armchair, Daniela watched Kyia like a hawk as she sipped the wine out from her glass.

"You missed a spot," Daniela commented, pointing lazily toward a high shelf. It was more a tone of mockery than anything else. She just wanted to stress the woman out as much as she could.

Kyia froze momentarily, then quickly moved to correct the supposed mistake. She stretched on her toes to reach the higher shelf, her arms trembling under the strain of her bruised body. She felt Daniela's gaze on her back as she went along, knowing that the sadistic noblewoman was waiting for the next mistake.

"Clumsy," Daniela murmured, just loud enough for Kyia to hear. "For someone who's supposed to serve us, you barely know how to clean properly. You served other people before this, you said?" Her dark lips broke with a sharp scoff. "You must have been a disappointment to them as well."

Kyia kept her head down. "Yes, Miss Daniela." She ate her pride for the moment. There was no positive that would be drawn from arguing with her—only blood.

From her work area near the door, Delia watched anxiously. The duster hung limply in her hand as her eyes shifted between Kyia and Daniela. This didn't look good.

"Come now," Daniela continued, swirling her wine. "Are you dumb? Did Bela knock all the sense out of your head, or are you just too stupid to get it right?"

Kyia clenched her jaw. That comment struck her deeper than she could handle. Biting her tongue, she continued her work, saying nothing in the process.

"Not even a word of gratitude for such gracious company? My, how rude." Daniela leaned back in her chair, a cruel smile tugging at her lips. She could have lashed out immediately, but there was another plan on the redhead's mind. "I could teach you manners, you know. All it takes is the proper… motivation."

Delia couldn't take it anymore. She stepped forward. "Miss Daniela, perhaps Kyia can work more efficiently if—"

Daniela's head snapped toward Delia, her expression darkening instantly. It was as if her personality had undergone a complete turnaround. "Did I ask for your opinion, Delia?" she snapped, ready to get up and beat her into a bloody mess.

Delia shrank back, her cheeks flushing. "No, Miss Daniela," she mumbled.

"Then keep your tongue behind your teeth unless you'd like me to remove it for you." Daniela's words were venomous, and Delia flinched as though she had already been struck. The servant backed away and resumed her duties without a second's hesitation. There was no telling whether Daniela would make good on her threats or not, but the likelihood was there.

This was not the time to gamble with that woman's unstable ego.

Daniela turned back to Kyia with a sigh, as though dealing with an endless disappointment. "You see, Delia?" she said mockingly. "This is why the library is my sanctuary. The silence of obedience. People must read, you know?"

Kyia continued working, hoping that she could still somehow blend into her environment and go unnoticed, even though she was the center of attention.

Daniela let the silence stretch for a moment, savoring the tension in the room. She reveled in this kind of abuse. Cassandra was a pro at it, but the brunette could only remain patient for so long. She'd cut those women to pieces, enjoying their screams of pain more than anything else.

But as the youngest of the trio sat there, another idea occurred to her. She sat up from the couch and snapped her fingers. "Delia, fetch me more wine from the kitchen."

Delia hesitated. She glanced at Kyia, her worry etched plainly on her face. She didn't want her friend to be left alone with their master. But Daniela's sharp eyes caught the hesitation, and her voice turned icy.

"Did I stutter?" It was her final warning.

Delia swallowed hard and nodded. "Right away, Miss Daniela!"

As Delia hurried from the room, Kyia risked a quick, nervous glance in her direction, but Delia was already gone, leaving her alone with the bloodthirsty lady. The moment the door closed, the air grew heavier. Daniela's smile returned slowly as she rose from her chair.

"So obedient, aren't you?" Daniela murmured, her voice low and taunting. "Always so eager to please. And yet…" She trailed a finger along the edge of a nearby shelf, feigning inspection, "You just never quite meet expectations, do you?"

Kyia tightened her grip on the duster, her knuckles turning white, but she kept her gaze fixed on the books in front of her. Her lungs barely took in air—if any at all.

Daniela stepped closer, her breath warm against Kyia's ear. "Tell me, Kyia," she whispered, her tone dripping with false sweetness. "Do you ever wonder why someone like you ended up here? Do you think it was fate? Or just bad luck?"

Kyia's silence seemed to amuse Daniela. She chuckled softly and stepped back, her voice growing louder, sharper. "No matter what you think, remember this: you're nothing. Less than nothing. A broken, trembling little girl playing at being a servant."

She picked up a thick leather-bound book from a nearby table and held it out toward Kyia. "Clean this. Now."

Kyia took the book, her hands steady despite the storm raging inside her. She began to dust it carefully, her movements mechanical, as if she lacked a soul entirely. The only thing keeping her alive and intact was her adherence to the orders that were given to her. Straying from them would only result in further harm.

Daniela watched her for a moment, then leaned in again, her smile widening. "Do you know what fascinates me about you, Kyia?" she asked, her tone mockingly conversational.

Kyia didn't answer.

Daniela reached out and tilted Kyia's chin upward with a single finger, forcing her to meet her gaze. "You don't say much. But I can see it in your eyes. You're dying to scream, but you won't. Because you know it won't end well for you."

Kyia's heart pounded in her chest, but she refused to let it show. She stared back at Daniela, her expression carefully blank. This wretched being did not see her as a person, so therefore, she would not be.

Daniela's smile faltered for a moment, as though disappointed by the lack of reaction. But then her amusement returned, ready to cut the slender woman to pieces. She released Kyia's chin and stepped back, her laughter echoing through the library.

"You're pathetic," she said. "And yet… there's something almost admirable about you. It's almost as though you think it makes you stronger."

She turned away, her laughter fading into a cruel smirk that sought to pierce the maid's heart. "Tell me, Kyia," she said. "Do you think anyone would care if you disappeared? Do you have a family somewhere outside this castle, hmm? What about a child?"

The Village

Narratha pushed the wheelbarrow along the village path, taking in the frigid air as she moved about. Beside her, Marco trotted along with his usual enthusiasm, clutching that thin, colorful book close to his chest.

"What is that called again?" she asked.

Marco glanced down at the book, then up at Narratha. "It's a comic," he said, holding it up for her to see.

She squinted at the vibrant cover, which featured a strong-looking figure with a red cape and a bold 'S' symbol on his chest. "A comic?" Narratha echoed, tilting her head. "The art is impeccable. What is its purpose? Knowledge? History?"

Marco shrugged. "It tells a story, but I can't read it very well. There are lots of pictures, though!"

Narratha hummed, intrigued. Her world had nothing like this—no bright illustrations bound in a thin booklet, no stories told with images. The art drew her in, though she masked her interest behind a neutral expression.

They continued walking for a few more steps before Narratha came to a stop. She glanced at the wheelbarrow, then at Marco, an idea forming in her mind. "Let's take a break," she said, her emerald glare centered on the young kid.

Marco's eyes widened. "A break? Won't we get in trouble?"

Narratha chuckled softly, shaking her head. "No. Not if we're careful." She scanned their surroundings, spotting a small, quiet clearing nestled between two cottages, safe from the villagers. "Over there," she said, nodding toward the spot.

Marco followed her lead, and soon they were seated on a log, shielded from prying eyes by the cottages. Narratha leaned the wheelbarrow against a tree and gestured for Marco to join her. "Show me this comic of yours."

Marco eagerly plopped down beside her and opened it, flipping through the pages until he reached a colorful spread, showcasing the same male figure in each of the pages. "This is Superman," he said, pointing to the caped figure.

"Superman?" Narratha repeated, her brow furrowing slightly. "Where did you get this?"

Marco grinned. "The Duke gave it to me. He said I could have it for free. He told me a little about the character, but he didn't know everything."

Narratha raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "The Duke? Giving something away for free? He doesn't strike me as the generous type."

Leaning in, Marco lowered his voice as if sharing a great secret. "He's not supposed to, but sometimes he breaks Mother Miranda's rules. He gave this to me and told me not to tell anyone. Mother Miranda doesn't want books from outside the village, apparently."

Narratha chuckled, taking in thought the possibilities that this could yield. "The Duke breaking rules… I'll keep that in mind."

Marco beamed, clearly pleased with himself. "Do you know how to read?" he asked suddenly, pointing to the words that littered the pages, encased within white bubbles that likely signified speech.

"I do," Narratha replied slowly, "but I don't recognize all of your words. Some are quite foreign to me." She gestured to the comic. "Tell me what you know about this Superman."

Marco's face lit up. "The Duke said he has all kinds of powers—he's super strong, he can fly, his eyes shoot lasers, and he saves people. He's supposed to be a really good person, who came from another world and helped ours."

Narratha's gaze lingered on the heroic figure in the illustrations, her thoughts turning inward. She thought of her own powers that had left a trail of violence in its wake. The idea of using such abilities for good seemed almost laughable, but then again, it was what the fawns practiced. It was she who strayed from their teachings in her pursuit of vengeance.

Uncanny, it was, how his cape reminded her of the fur ones that she and her fellow sisters proudly wore.

"What realm is Superman from?" Narratha glanced his way, her left eyebrow raised along her freckled forehead.

"Uhm…" Marco scratched his rosy nose as he tried to recall what the Duke had told him. "Krypton, I think?"

Narratha hummed. "Never heard of that one."

"Can you read it to me?" Marco's voice broke through her thoughts.

Narratha hesitated, then took the comic from his hands. "All right," she said, flipping to the first page. The words on the page were unfamiliar, a strange blend of letters and symbols, but the pictures told a vivid story.

She smirked to herself and decided to improvise. Following the flow of the images, she began to narrate, crafting her own version of the story as she went. It was better than leaving the kid with disappointment. He wanted to know the story, and he would.

"It was a warm day," Narratha began, following the flow of the pictures as best she could. "Superman was flying in the sky, surveying the ground below." Her fingers graced the surface of the page, her eyes centered on the depiction of the vast city within them.

She stopped for a moment. "What kind of settlement is this?"

Marco shrugged. "I don't know. I've never seen anything like that before."

The redhead squinted her brow, her voice soft. "Is something like that outside this valley?"

"The Duke called it Metropolis, I think. Maybe there might be."

Narratha took a breath and nodded, shaking away her inner thoughts about what else existed out there. "These Metropolises must be something, I'm sure." She cleared her throat. "Anyway, as I was saying…" Her finger returned to the words at hand. "Superman looked down at the people below, watching as… as they waved at him. They pointed…"

She could see the next panels showcasing a strange, fiery impact brought forth from two metal devices that appeared to have collided. Trapped within one was a helpless woman and her child, threatened by the blazing flames within them. "Superman could see that the mother and her child were trapped. He flew down, using his strength to lift one of the objects high above his head, moving it away so that he may reach the pair."

"What is the woman saying?" Marco pointed to the speech bubble beside the teary-eyed illustration.

Narratha peered closer. She could read those words. "Take my little girl. Save her."

Her mind returned to that dreadful day when she lost Balia and how it sparked her conquest to obtain the powers of a surge. Narratha's goal was to save the fawns from future tragedy, even if it meant having to sacrifice some of her sisters for the greater good.

But during her ten years of carnage, she never once used her abilities to save anyone. She just kept killing. Fawns that were likely young girls at the time she began her violence were the young ladies that she eventually slaughtered and consumed by the tail end of her crusade. Saving little fawns, she thought. What kind of savior was she?

Marco then pointed to the next panel, which showcased Superman tearing the door off the car and pulling the duo out to safety, flying away just as an explosion took hold. "See?" The boy said. "He's a hero!"

"Yeah…" Narratha's throat bobbed as she juggled her next breath. "That's what heroes do, right?"

Marco leaned closer and wrapped his small hands around her arm, his head resting against it. "I hope I can meet him someday. I have something that I want to ask him, since he's so strong that no one can beat him up."

Narratha's hands briefly shook as she felt the child's arms tighten. It had been so many years since she had experienced a moment like this. She stifled a breath, sitting still as she allowed Marco to hold onto her. She didn't want him to let go. "What would you ask of him?"

The boy replied in a weak voice that was weighed down with so much thought, but his words were simple. "To protect me."

NOTES:

Hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Sorry for the delay!

Daniela and Kyia are closing in on one another. As vulnerable as Kyia is, she is not to be overlooked. Daniela has been her standard self throughout this entire story, but that will soon come to a screeching halt. Play with fire and you will be burned.

Moving onto Miranda, it seems as though Mia is already in her clutches, so we know what will come next. While she is the main villain of the game, her role in this story will be equal to that of the lords, somewhat, as the true villains begin to climb the ladder. I still have some scenes planned for her before she departs, and before she does, a lot in this story will go down. It's coming soon, so just you wait!

Narratha and Marco are also becoming closer, with the redhead finding warmth in that big sister/mother role that she once had. This killer is going through her moments of self-reflection, sure, but I wouldn't call her stable.

So, what to expect from the next chapter? More Daniela and Kyia, I assume. A little bit of Delia, Luana, and Sorina. And of course, another scene with Marco and Narratha. Expect the plot to blow up in the following chapter…

Until then, the next chapter will come out on the 13th. If I become extremely busy, the next chapter will be released on the 20th.

Thank you all so much again, as I say all the time. This story wouldn't be possible without you. From day one, you have been such great supporters. I cannot wait to continue this series with the future spin-offs that will expand the universes (literally). I hope you have a safe weekend in the meantime, and I'll see you all again soon!