Ravyn stood on the balcony, peering down at the catgirls below. They looked like tiny bugs moving across a pond. The thought of them getting lapped up by the long tongues of aplitods—a slimy, green roach that lived in lakes—elicited a giggle. Using her pointer finger and thumb, she shut one eye, overlapped her fingers over the specks of catgirls, and pretended to gobble them up.
“Nom! Nom! Nom!” Ravyn said, mimicking the feeding behavior of the aplitod as she held onto one of the many balusters.
The air was cold this time of the year. Ravyn wore a thick wool dress that came down to her ankles. Red and gold embroideries in the likeness of dragons decorated the black fabric in intricate patterns. A long cord of silken rope kept the ensemble together. It was one of Ravyn’s favorite outfits.
“Ravyn, dear,” Ravyn’s mother called from behind her. Ravyn snapped up and spun on her heels, straightening her back and throwing her arms behind her. Her mother smiled. “Come inside where it is warm. The hearth shall give you comfort.”
Ravyn hesitated, glancing over her shoulder. “But, Mother. I am watching the people from here. They look so small. Can I not visit sometime?”
Ravyn’s mother—Emberlynn, as most people knew her—was a woman of incredible beauty and wit. Long red hair tied into complex braids framed her alabaster skin, and a pair of knowing violet eyes bore daggers into all she looked upon.
“Perhaps one day, when you are older,” said Emberlynn. With her palm held downward, she extended her hand, gesturing for Ravyn to take it. “Come now, child.”
One day Ravyn would see Nyarlothep. No, all of Nyarlea. She would walk the same streets, eat the same food, and wear the same clothing as all the catgirls of legend. Of that, she had no doubt. But, for now, she would need to appease any and all who walked Mother’s halls. The banquet would soon start, and neither Ravyn nor Emberlynn could afford to be seen at anything less than their best.
Ravyn followed her mother into a large dining hall beset with ornate decorations. San Island lanterns hung from the ceiling, bathing the room in a soft, orange light. Mother had spent a small fortune on the garnets required for such exquisite lumination. They could keep a room lit for a lifetime and were a fine conversation piece. So long as they graced her home, they would be captivated by all they saw. To Ravyn, it seemed no price was high enough for Mother when it came to impressing her peers.
Ravyn brushed one finger against the ruby of her golden necklace, entranced by the gentle glow above. She struggled to explain the pull she felt when looking at the garnets. A voice inside her said it was not the same dazzled stare she saw in so many others’ eyes.
To Ravyn, those garnets were like a flame. There was life in that stone somehow—a soul.
“Oh my goodness, Emberlynn! Your daughter is so cute!” One woman kneeled to level her gaze with Ravyn.
Ravyn offered her hand, just as her mother taught her.
The young woman took it, kissing the top. “What’s your name, beautiful?”
“Ravyn.” She tugged at the hems of her dress, bowing at the waist, face parallel to the floor. “Madam Linda, I presume?”
Linda clapped a hand to her mouth. “Yes. I am Madam Linda. You are so well-spoken! How old are you?”
“Five, Madam Linda.” Ravyn rose, clasping her hands in front of her.
Madam Linda looked up at Emberlynn, then back at Ravyn.
“My goodness, you are incredible.” Madam Linda stood, beckoning another woman over—and then another, and then another. All banquets played out like this. It was a dance. A pointless, petty dance with Bells on the line and Ravyn as the shining star of the show. Catgirls would line up one after the other, discussing business and other complicated matters Ravyn didn’t yet know about, and Mother would be a heap of Bells richer.
Somehow, it was always about Bells. Nothing mattered more to Mother than Bells.
As for Ravyn, her attention remained firmly attached to the garnets in the lanterns.
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Ten Years Later
Ravyn slammed the door to her room and dove into her plush bed. Reaching for one of her frilly pink pillows, she punched it a few times and then buried her face into the soft fabric, screaming, “Fuuuuuuuck!”
She did this a few times before a knock came at her door.
“What?” Ravyn shrieked.
“M-Mistress Ravyn, are you quite all right?” It was Isabella, one of Mother’s servants. “I thought I heard screaming.”
Ravyn never had it in her to take out her frustrations on Isabella. She was a kind woman, kinder than any in the household. As the future Mistress of the mansion, Ravyn had a duty to see that all servants were treated as equals.
Ravyn leaped from her bed and strode across the soft carpet. She wore a long, form-fitting dress befit of a Zhulian woman. It was uncomfortable and challenging to walk around in but bore the elegance in which her mother had prided herself. Ravyn had requested a version of the dress that cut high on the legs so she could move around better, but her mother wouldn’t have it. The city of Zhuli emphasized modesty, and her mother would be damned if her daughter were seen showing off so much skin.
Swinging open the door to the hallway, Ravyn offered a curt greeting. “Isabella.”
“M-Mistress Ravyn. My apologies if I’m intruding on your privacy.” Isabella bowed at the waist, then leveled her gaze. “Is something wrong?”
“Think nothing of it, Isabella. I’m fine. Just frustration with my…peers,” Ravyn replied.
“I see. Well, Mistress Ravyn,” said Isabella, “please feel free to call upon me if you require anything.”
“I’ll remember that. Thank you, Isabella.” Ravyn shut the door and leaned against the wood, her hands behind her back.
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
Tapping one toe against the carpet, she looked up at the lantern. The garnet that lit her room was nearly as old as she was now. It was the only thing in the room that had been with her through thick and thin, heard her screams, heard her cries. Ravyn felt something of a weird kinship with the gemstone, reminiscing on the days she’d talked to it as a kittengirl. “What do I do, Garney? I can’t keep living like this. I don’t want to become my mother.”
At dinner time, Ravyn sat beside her mother at a long banquet table. Ever since she had begun attending school, the table felt out of place and far too large for two people. The servants weren’t allowed to eat there with them, so what was the point?
It was a statement to anyone who dared to enter Mother’s mansion. It promised that no matter how large a problem you presented, Mother would have a hefty hand of Bells ready and waiting to placate.
“How is school?” Mother suddenly asked.
Ravyn finished chewing before replying, as was proper. “It’s fine.”
“Are those girls leaving you alone? The Headmistress thinks it was a misunderstanding.”
So Mother had gone to the Headmistress after all. No wonder she was being picked on so fiercely. How embarrassing. “I suppose so.”
“I see.” Mother hummed. “If they continue to pester you, please let me know, Ravyn. I shall see to it that I speak with their mothers.”
“Okay.” Ravyn stabbed the fish on her plate with a bit more force than she intended, sending a screech through the air. Mother flinched, and Ravyn’s eye twitched. She brought the food to her mouth and chewed it rigorously.
“How are your friends? Is Maya still taking her dance lessons?”
“Yeah.”
“Ravyn.” Mother raised a brow and tipped her wine glass toward her.
“Yes, Mother.”
“Very good. We do not use such slang in this household.”
“You don’t, maybe,” Ravyn said as her mother sipped her wine. She silently cursed herself for the comment.
“And what,” her mother asked, her wine glass clinking as she set it on the table, “is that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.”
“Talk to me, my daughter. Explain your thought process clearly. Please. I cannot help you if you do not speak to me.”
Ravyn gritted her teeth. “I’m not you.”
“Yes, I gathered that.” Ravyn’s mother took another sip of her wine. She rolled the liquid around in the container as she spoke. “You must learn to bury that hatred of yours. I understand your disdain for me, as I carried similar disdain for my mother at your age. One day though, I hope you will understand that my actions are for your benefit.”
“Your actions are a weight upon my shoulders,” Ravyn muttered.
“What was that?”
“Nothing.”
Ravyn’s mother sighed and furrowed her brow. “Child, look at me.”
“I am not a child!” Ravyn exclaimed, standing up and knocking over the chair behind her. “I am a grown woman now! I can go adventure and learn all there is to learn out there! That beats sitting in some castle waiting for the next man to show up just so I can continue this tired tradition!”
Ravyn put a hand on her chest. “I want to be my own person and not have Mommy come to help me every time I run into trouble! Do you know how humiliating it is not to know how to handle my own problems? You went to the Headmistress? Why? Why not let me try and handle it? Damn it, I want to figure things out on my own!” She punctuated the remark by pounding her fist on the table.
A pair of servants standing at the opposite end of the room were obviously growing increasingly uncomfortable with the situation. They fidgeted in place until Emberlynn dismissed them with a wave.
“Ravyn,” Emberlynn said, rising to her feet and walking over to her daughter. “Everything I do, I do for you. You have a duty to this house—to the people of Zhuli.” She reached for Ravyn’s hand, but Ravyn pulled her arm back. “You owe it to your grandmother, great-grandmother, and generations of women before you. We’ve worked tirelessly to provide for the generation that followed. Please do not throw away our efforts.”
“I don’t owe anyone anything!” Ravyn growled. An errant strand of gray hair fell from Emberlynn’s braids, her eyes wide. “I’m tired of living the lie you built for me.”
“Ravyn, it… it was never a lie. I just wanted you to have the life I never had. It’s a rough world out there, and—”
“Spare me.” Ravyn brushed past her mother and opened the door to the living room. “I’ll figure things out my way.” With that, she shut the door behind her and marched back up to her room.
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Regret filled every fiber of Ravyn’s body as she lay on her bed, her eyes glued to the garnet above her. As the glow washed over her, the fight between her and her mother replayed itself over and over in her head.
“Damn it,” Ravyn muttered, her hand over her face. “How am I supposed to face her now? What do I do, Garney?”
Someone knocked at her door.
“Who is it?” Ravyn asked.
“It is I, Ravyn.” It was Mother. “Can I come in, please?”
Ravyn rolled to her side, her body pillow clenched between her arms and legs. “Fine. Come in.”
The door clicked, and Ravyn listened as the door shut, the shuffling of feet following. A weight pressed on the bed, slightly bobbing Ravyn up and down.
“When I was your age, I was clawing at the walls,” Mother said with a half chuckle. “I hated all of it. The schoolwork, the magic, practicing my Class, all of it.” Ravyn felt the soft touch of Mother’s hand and shook it away. “I understand. If you still hate me after this, then so be it. But please just listen. May I?”
“Fine,” Ravyn said after a while.
“My mother worked day and night to provide for me. She sent me to school, demanded I learn an instrument, practice my magic, everything.” Mother paused. “It was never enough. When I turned sixteen, I demanded to participate in the process. I wanted to learn the important things, like how to make Bells, be a good mother, and start a business. That way, I could care for you in ways my mother never could. It’s why I never leave home, dear. I can’t bear to be away from you.”
“But, Mother—”
“I am nearly finished. I understand you want to leave and make your mark on the world. Or, perhaps you do not. Perhaps you wish to discover who you are. That— that is fine too.” Mother hiccupped, and soon a quiet sob followed. “I never want to see you hurt. It is a cruel world out there for men and catgirls alike, Ravyn. I do not want you to be a part of that suffering. I-I do not want to see my daughter in such pain.”
Ravyn felt the warm hand of her Mother on her foot, and this time she didn’t refuse her.
“I may have coddled you too much. The fault lies with me. If you are still intent on leaving Zhuli, then I shall let you go on one condition.”
Ravyn shot up in her bed and turned to her mother. She almost wished she hadn’t. Emberlynn’s eyes were red, her cheeks wet from crying.
“Mother,” Ravyn breathed.
Mother forced a smile. “My single condition is that you finish school. Finish your time at the academy, and decide on a Class. If you can do that, then you have my blessing.”
“Mother… do you mean that? Truly mean that?” asked Ravyn.
“Yes,” Mother said, nodding. “Yes, I do.”
An enormous weight lifted from Ravyn’s heart.
“That reminds me of another thing,” her mother continued. “We need to talk about your language. Promise me you will work on it even after you leave. I do not wish to hear such foul words out of your mouth. Where did you even learn such profanity?”
“Isabella,” Ravyn hissed under her breath, averting her gaze momentarily. She turned back to her mother and sat on her legs with the utmost dignity she could muster. “I will do my best, Mother. With Saoirse as my witness, I shall purify this mouth of its taint.”
Mother clapped a hand to her mouth and gasped.
“What? Did I say something wrong?”
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