The servant gaped, and the whites of her eyes glazed over. Ravyn found that amusing. It was too easy to get exaggerated reactions from newer servants.

“M-my apologies! Allow me a moment to check with the mistress,” the servant said in a barely audible tone. She shut the door while Ravyn and the others waited.

“Why did she close the door?” Destiny asked, frowning.

“Because I haven’t seen my mother in over ten years,” Ravyn explained.

“Ten years?” Destiny was aghast. “How could you go so long without seeing your mother?”

This again.

Rayvn turned her head toward her. Don’t lash out. She doesn’t know any better. “It’s none of your business,” she spat.

Destiny opened her mouth, but the servant had returned, opening the door wide and moving to the side. She beckoned Ravyn and the others in with a wave of her arm. “The mistress is waiting in the dining hall. I…trust you know the way.”

“Yeah, I do,” Ravyn said, walking past her. “Thanks.”

The servant shut the door once everyone was inside, then followed them at a distance while Ravyn marched through the hall. The mansion was just as exquisite as she remembered and had undergone few changes. While the exterior of the mansion was beautiful and ornate in its own way, the inside was a marvel to behold to the average viewer’s eye.

Black walls with intricately carved windows lined the hall. Doors leading to the quarters of several servants flanked Ravyn in pairs as she strode through, the walls lit by scarlet light from the lanterns above.

Mother never did have enough servants to do the bare necessities for her. Always another order, another meal, another record. It was overdone and shameful to have so many catgirls under a single person’s employ. There was no single job or task that Ravyn could think of that warranted so much coddling.

The damned queen has fewer servants, I’m sure.

Ravyn’s blood threatened to boil, and she made an active effort to quell that anger. It drove her to combative word choices, impulsive behavior, and an intoxicating desire to drown it in liquor.

“What’s your name?” Ravyn called behind her without looking back. She needed something, anything to distract her.

“D-Dana,” the servant stammered.

“How long have you worked here?”

“I started just last month.” She gasped. “Oh my, I am so sorry. I should be addressing you by Mistress.”

“Don’t.”

“But I—”

“‘Ravyn’ is fine.”

After traveling down the hallway that never ends—a nickname she’d given it as a kitten—she came to a pair of large doors. The knobs were gold in color, embedded with tiny diamonds that caught the light in a way that drew the person in. It had no glare—as if the gems captured the light above for their selfish desire. Captivating and gaudy, and a gentle reminder that Emberlynn had the means to sweep you under the rug with a snap of her fingers.

Ravyn drew a deep breath, then pushed open the doors to the ballroom, where Mother had spent countless evenings dancing and conversing over the next big business deal. Barking those terribly fake laughs, dropping handfuls of Bells into the palms of noteworthy associates. Bells that could be better used to house and feed the orphans crawling through the streets. Paying the nyannies what they were worth.

Doing something that made a fucking difference.

I hate this fucking dance we must do, Mother, Ravyn thought, disgusted that her own parent couldn’t be bothered to see her daughter at the door. What game are you playing?

Ravyn walked through the ballroom, surprised to see how old the carpet was. Holes pocked the fabric, the color was fading, and it was peeling up in spots. Of all the things Mother was so proud of, presentation sat amongst the top of her concerns. There could be no better way to bury your adversaries than under the weight of your own wealth and prestige.

So, why did the carpet look so worn?

Tristan put a hand on Ravyn’s shoulder to stop her. “We’ll stay here. I think you should talk to her alone.”

“Yeah,” Ravyn said. “You’re probably right.” As Tristan’s hand parted from her shoulder, she turned to him briefly, smiling. “You’re a good man, Tristan.”

He blushed, then chuckled.

“The best,” Destiny said, smiling wide.

“Are you going to be okay?” Lara asked, blinking slowly. As irritating as she was, she at least seemed to understand the gravity of the situation.

“I’ll be fine,” Ravyn said without knowing if it was the truth. She swept her hand under Bally’s talons, extending him toward Tristan. “Here, take care of Bally while I talk to my mother.”

Tristan received the bird easily, and Bally sidled up to his shoulder. “I will. Promise.” Bally nibbled his ear. “Hey, that tickles!”

“Keh. He likes you already. You little shit,” Ravyn said, eyeing the bird. Bally returned the stare with squinted eyes. “Don’t burn the place down while I’m gone.”

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“Allow me to prepare some refreshments,” Dana said.

“Allow my sister and I to help you,” Destiny offered.

“I couldn’t allow that! My pride as a Shi Island maid would be wounded.”

Lara gasped. A smile steadily tugged at the corners of her mouth. “We have much in common.”

Dana put a hand to her mouth. “You two aren’t—”

“And that’s my cue to leave,” Ravyn said, walking toward the dining hall anew. “Have fun.” The four of them continued to converse as their voices grew distant, and soon Ravyn found herself at the doors to the hall.

Ravyn gripped the knob to the dining room, pausing to compose her thoughts. Despite saying that it had been ten years, she wasn’t entirely sure if that was true. It could have been longer than that. She’d visited once during her early years as an adventurer, and never again. That would’ve been when Finn was still alive.

It’s been easier to accept your death lately, Finn, Ravyn thought, somewhat ashamed. She felt that, somehow, she was betraying his memory. Her devotion to him. Her eye twitched as the thought crossed her mind, and she actively worked to recollect a memory of him. His warm smile, his disarming voice, his carefree attitude. Stop that. What are you doing?

She sighed, turned the knob, and pushed open the door all the way.

Before her was the long dining table she was so familiar with. It stretched horizontally from where she stood, still as striking as the day she first set eyes upon it. Deep dark brown wood. Foreign symbols engraved into its make. Long white candles set in equally exquisite black candlesticks. Silver cutlery crafted to perfection, each plate with an accompanying fork and knife.

And at the end of the table to her left sat Emberlynn.

“Mother,” Ravyn said, surprised to hear it come out of her mouth as a mumble. She shut the doors behind her.

The woman looked weathered beyond recognition. Her skin was as fair as it had ever been, though now splotches of brown and pink spattered her face and neck. Two violet eyes were set in a face with large bags underneath. One of her eyes had lost its color, and the woman’s hair had grayed so much that it looked pink. She had lost the vibrancy, the aristocracy she once bore.

Ravyn felt her bravado deflate. Emberlynn had not aged well.

“My daughter,” Emberlynn said with a wispy lilt. She took a deep breath, her teeth and the air entering her nostrils trembling. As tears threatened to fall from her glossy eyes, she quickly rubbed them—once each—and swallowed hard. “I missed you dearly.”

Ravyn couldn’t say the same, but neither did she have the willpower to be antagonistic. She strode over to her mother, her hands balled, and stood at her side. “I… how are you?”

Emberlynn forced a smile. Always forcing. “I could be better,” she nodded. “But my day has improved with your presence.” She reached out with one hand. Ravyn gripped it, alarmed at how osseous it felt. No, it looked the part too. Her face was gaunt, her skin pale. Something was wrong with her. “I thought you were dead.”

Fuck.

Ravyn averted her gaze, but kept her head level with Emberlynn. “I have been busy.” A terrible excuse. What could make a person so busy that they’d gone five years without writing?

“I see.” Emberlynn rubbed the top of Ravyn’s hand. It almost hurt, with how jagged her fingers felt. As if there was nothing more than a flimsy film of skin between them.

“Pardon me, Mother.” Goddess above, she was still stuck in her mother’s speaking habits. “But you do not look well.”

Emberlynn giggled, eliciting Ravyn’s attention. She let go, then leaned forward to reposition her chair—an act that seemed too difficult for her now.

“Here, let me,” Ravyn said, walking behind the chair. “Stand up.” She craned her head around, watching as Emberlynn shambled away from her seat. Ravyn grabbed the armrests and shifted it to the side. “Go ahead, Mother.”

Once Emberlynn was seated again, Ravyn stood before her. “What happened?”

Emberlynn shook her head. “Saoirse’s penalty for my poor decisions, I suppose.”

Ravyn frowned at that. “Saoirse did not blight you, Mother.”

“Still as faithless as ever, I see.”

Ravyn sucked in her lips and bowed her head. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. Sick or not, they would need Emberlynn’s help. She could request her help, she would just need to be… gentler.

“We should refrain from talking about me, Mother. Please. I have come with a request.”

That tipped her over the edge. Emberlynn’s tears fell freely. She leaned her head against her palm as she sobbed, and Ravyn’s heart sank. “All these years without you, and you come to me with demands.”

“Mother, I—”

“I thought you were dead!” Emberlynn screamed. “Could you not have written me a letter? Just one letter? You grew so distant, so cold after…after…”

Don’t say it. Don’t fucking say it, Ravyn thought, gritting her teeth.

“After Finn died,” Emberlynn said, coughing between sobbing fits. She raised her head and wiped her sodden face. “We had something wonderful before you left. I thought I had a daughter I could love and cherish. We made amends; we had an understanding. You became an adventurer. I was proud. So, so proud. You found a stable Party with Finn. And then…” She shook her head. Her stare grew cold, distant, as if she were experiencing the memory all over again. “Then you…hated me again.” She locked eyes with her daughter.

I can’t do this. I can’t. I thought I could, but I can’t.

Run. She needed to run. There would be no amending of relations here. Not right now. There was no shortage of alcohol in Mother’s kitchens. A bottle of that, a good night’s rest. Then she could think. Yes, she could—

“I love you,” Emberlynn said, grabbing Ravyn by the wrist. “I’m so sorry about what happened to him.” Her grip tightened. “I had hoped you would come home for a time. Mend from your wounds. I would not have halted you from returning to your adventuring duties. You have an adventurer’s heart. You always have.” She brought Ravyn’s hand to her forehead. “I am so very sorry, child.”

“You…” Ravyn felt the heat of tears and fought to control them. “You did not do anything wrong, Mother. The fault lies with me. I am responsible for his passing.” She clenched her jaw, and a visceral image returned to the surface. Burned skin. Screaming. Charred blood. Exposed bone. Then silence. “I should have continued to write.”

She would never come home. Reliance on her mother would’ve been an admittance to her methods. But she could’ve at least written. Depended on her mother’s words for guidance. Yet somehow, she’d fallen right back into the hatred she’d developed for her so long ago. Why?

Fuck. This isn’t how this was supposed to go.

A knock came at the door behind them. Emberlynn took a moment to compose herself, letting go of Ravyn’s hand. “Come.”

The door opened, and a kitten with braided red hair poked through the crack. Her ears wriggled, and her violet eyes sparkled with curiosity.

“Sophia, come to Mama,” Emberlynn said.

Ravyn turned to Emberlynn with wide eyes. Mama? Fucking what?

Sophia jogged alongside the table, her arms stretched out to her sides like a bird. She wore a long, black robe with red embroidery. It covered her from head to toe, leaving only her head and hands exposed. She came to a halt in front of Ravyn. Now that she was closer, she saw that hints of blonde speckled her hair, tail, and the insides of her ears. Her tail stood straight up, vibrating the way many kittens’ did when they were excited.

“Sophia, this is Ravyn,” Emberlynn said. “Ravyn, this is Sophia. Your sister.”

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