The cold snow melted against the transparent glass window while the pale, transparent fog continued to shroud its surroundings in mystery, as if ignoring the passage of time, unchanging and static. It had been a whole month since my birth, but the lack of change in the weather or day length made it seem as if no time had gone by at all.

I would usually say this was a normal day, much like the scenery outside the window, boring and unchanging. Except, according to my parents, today was the day of my birthing ceremony.

Speaking of my parents, they were both currently cuddling against each other on the Royal bed, as usual, with next to no regards for my presence. Well, to be fair, it was early morning, and they had just woken up. But still.

Over the past month my parents had showered me with what I can only call deep parental love.

My father in particular had decorated me extremely lavishly, showering me with material wealth. My Short abyss black hair similar to my fathers had a small purple ribbon attached to it now. I also now wore a soft, cosy purple dress? No, I'm sure my father called it a tunic. Why the word ‘dress’ came to mind from its appearance was something I still couldn't quite figure out.

The Tunic was similar to a small bag with short sleeves, with a rope attached to the waste to keep it held in place. It was designed with simplistic but beautifully carved symbols similar to the engravings on Lita's maid outfit.

What the symbols on my clothes actually did, I still didn't know. However, my father had told me proudly that he had embroidered them on himself as he personally dressed me up the night I was born. ugh, just remembering how unbearably baggy, heavy and difficult it was to move in, makes me want to inflict violence upon my father. Too far? I could barely move my limbs or attempt anything for nearly two weeks.

Although it still felt baggy, it was far better than before, with plenty of room for growth.

My wings were currently also non-existent, my parents had decided it would be better to pretend they didn't exist until I came of age. The reasoning for this honestly didn't make much sense to me, they didn't want me questioning my identity or being bullied for it growing up. My mother had sounded regretful when she told me this, not knowing I understood every word she said.

Rubbish if you ask me, My current identity didn't matter and If people bullied me I would bully them back. I believe equivalent exchange is the term.

The person who made this possible was the person my parents called Lissette. She was actually something similar to a caster in our family, I also knew she was a doctor of sorts since she was responsible for my birth. Other than that, she was shrouded in mystery, the only other fact I knew about her was that she basically raised my father.

She had given my father a small bracelet called a bracelet of discernment that could hide or change a wielder's biological or skill induced features. My mother had said that many demi humans had relied on the item to hide from slave traders.

It didn't just hide the presence of my wings but made them almost non existent, I couldn't really grasp how something like that worked. What I did know however, is that once again it involved the use of those same symbols, As finely engraved symbols could be seen decorating the bracelet. The symbol of a mask, the symbol of a rotating vortex similar to one on my dress and the symbol of an eye.

I assumed that the power that the goddess told me would manifest within me based on my memories were probably my wings, as to what type of power they would give me I didn't have any particular ideas except for maybe flight. Well I would find out soon anyways.

If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

wait until my parents decided to reveal them to me? Certainly not.

I never made any promises to do that to begin with, so I wasn't lying. Using my wings might also give me more insights into more old memories. Anyways, what my parents didn't know wouldn't hurt them.

Stretching my limbs lazily within my small crib along the edge of the bed, I couldn't help but think back to the one small victory I had gained this month, pride filling my chest. The removal of those abominable bed rails.

The first couple of days were considerably difficult for my parents. To be honest, I did feel a bit bad for them. But they had tried to restrict my freedom, so I would still do it again if I had to. Kicking, screaming, refusing to eat. Life really wasn't easy for my parents back then. I still remember the eye bags that had begun to form around both their eyes.

finally putting one and one together as they saw me nearly injure my leg kicking the rails, they got rid of it. I had come to terms by now that I was the type of person that likes to flaunt my victories. stretching over the rails in front of my parents was a popular pastime for me.

After stretching I attempted what I had attempted many times already this past month.

I tried to imagine a status page, wishing it to appear before me. Why was I doing something like this? Well I honestly wasn't really sure. Another nostalgic feeling? Well not really. It felt more like Instinct. Like the need to learn how to walk or breathe. It was probably crucial towards any living organism.

For some strange reason though, no matter what I tried, nothing ever happened. Praying for a change to the usual routine I deepened my focus.

…

…

Nothing. Again.

Is there something I'm missing? Hopefully that goddess didn't make some kind of mistake. Knowing her attitude I wouldn't put it past her.

Looking towards my parents I could see them still cuddling against each other as usual, however now they were discussing details about my coming birthing ceremony.

They didn't really talk much about it in my presence, which I found strange as they would often rant about the most aimless topics just to get me to learn the language or for some sort of enjoyment. The only clue I had on it was that it involved my status page.

Maybe it's some kind of test? Not wanting to fall into the black hole of second guessing I decided to leave the topic alone for now.

Just great, now I need to relieve myself.

One particularly Harsh reality I had more or less come to terms with was Excretion. As a child there was nothing much I could really do to relieve myself without outside assistance. Most children would cry and scream with the uncomfortable feeling of defiling themselves. I on the other hand had a fully matured brain existing within my childlike body.

At first I attempted resisting whenever the feeling took me. Soon however I accepted that there was no privacy for a small child like myself. Unable to resist the flow of nature I somewhat unwillingly accepted my fate.

The disgusting feeling I was expecting to come however, never came, instead, after relieving myself I had felt a strong suction force, my excretion disappearing into what felt like a bottomless pit. The vortex symbol carved on my dress glowing lightly.

Is that what that was for? I had thought to myself.

The only undesirable part being the cleaning up process that occurred later, needing outside assistance from my Mother.

I had only left my room a couple of times since my birth with either my mother or father, I still don't really know why they confine me to the bedchambers most of the time. It could have been a cultural reason or maybe the reasoning was specific to just my family, I still wasn't sure, and my parents gave very little away on the topic.

During my brief trips I had seen some of the rooms outside my parents' bedchambers. The mansion was much more similar to a castle, with almost an innumerable number of rooms.

Outside my room was a long hallway fitted with the same luxurious carpet that decorated my room. With a high stone ceiling and the same cloudy, engraved windows present at equal intervals across the hall. Even though the castle was large, it felt extremely empty, not running into anybody new within my brief trips.

My mother routinely brought me across the castle like this. Carrying me from my room down to the opposite end of the hallway, where one of four doors led to a winding pair of stairs that led to a massive hexagonal window reflecting a snow-leased back garden.

“Samel, help me decide on Tenes dress, which one do you think looked cuter? The rose coloured one I think matched the theme of the ceremony better” My mothers excited voice echoed enthusiastically through the room as she cuddled snuggly against my father. Although the heavy snow and fog made it difficult to determine the time of day, Since we had just woken up I ascertained it was still early morning.

My fathers however wasn't responding. From what I knew about him, this meant he probably didn't like any of them then. He was a man that was quick to affirm if he liked something.

Sighing, my mother looked exasperatedly at my father, “don't tell me you preferred the black one Samel, we're not attending a funeral.”

“Is there a rule saying you can't wear black to events somewhere or something? Trust me, it suits her” My father looked at me from his bedchamber proudly as he gently caressed my mothers blonde hair.

My mother, silent for a few seconds suddenly lost the bubbly playful nature to her voice “She's not wearing black Samel” her tone cold and commanding. Although a rare occurrence, whenever my mother became like this there was really no disagreeing with her.

My father smiling slightly suddenly began to ruffle my mothers hair like one would a childs, snapping her from her prior solemnity “This is a once in a lifetime occasion Zara, I just want her to stand out”

Pausing for a second he then added “why don't we call Lita or Lizette and have them make the final decision?”

Pouting slightly, my mother began to unruffle her hair as she silently looked in my direction.

Quietly giving ground she whispered “...ok.”

Giving way like this was something my mother only did in the privacy of just my father.