When the beast had been born, it had gained a modicum of knowledge that was passed down by its ancestors. It was a sort of instinctual knowledge, heavily fragmented but yet so deeply ingrained into its soul that the beast couldn’t deny its omnipresent effect. Something that the beast had learned early from this was that moonless nights were dangerous, for many predators thrived in the lack of the moon’s embrace.
Something it had recently grown interested in was what it understood as humans. They were usually undeniably extremely dangerous, considering the habit of many to tame other beasts with force. The beast was more than aware enough of the danger, and up until the season changed had hid away in the forest to avoid their greedy gazes. Yet, as the trees changed color and the leaves began to fall, the beast grew interested in a human.
As it understood, the human was a female, and something about her just attracted the beast. It doubted it was her fluffy dark hair, or her quite intriguing use of a metal perch of some kind to get around. The beast considered her violet eyes, a trait it had never seen before even among other beasts, but dismissed that idea when it thought of the other human that had arrived not long after her that also had them. That male human was incessantly cruel, and the beast did not like him instinctively. If the beast had to come up with a reason it was interested, it would probably be the girl’s soul, a beautiful meadow of flowers dyed in the hues of the setting sun. It was calming, serene even, and the beast appreciated it more than it originally expected to.
The beast had originally planned on staying in a safe place this night, considering the moon’s absence, but something in the beast’s instincts was screaming at it to check on the female human. Figuring it couldn’t hurt, the beast quickly made its way to the large territory that she seemed to reside in. It doesn’t take long for the beast to thank its instincts, as a distinctly human screech echoes out from a small clearing nearby.
Approaching as stealthily as it could, the beast flinches when it feels the pure malice exuding from within the clearing. The female was without her strange perch and looking rough, her clothes covered in dirt and her twig like legs covered in small red scratches. Standing above her, the cruel human and two other humans that it didn’t recognize were just exuding the most putrid aura that the beast had ever felt. The beast wished to run in to defend the female right then and there, yet something stopped it.
Instincts. They were contradicting each other, one screaming to run in and another screaming to wait and see what would occur, that intervening between humans was far too dangerous. After a brief moment of self negotiation, the beast realized that it couldn’t help if force was not used. Quite an annoying stipulation, but reasonable in the end.
The beast got its chance, in the end, as the cruel human whipped it’s arm forward, the female crying in pain and grasping the side of her head. Literally leaping into action, the beast rushed out of the bushes, knocking the cruel one off of the defenseless female. All four humans looked at it in shock, and the beast defensively growled at the three who were seemingly hostile.
Glancing back at the human he defended, the beast was dimly reflected in her teary violet eyes, a connection immediately crafted between their souls.
The beast didn’t know how long the connection would last, but instinct told it that the link would last quite a while.
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Dinner has always been a bittersweet experience for me, something that has not changed as of the moment. It had always been in the family rules that we were to eat together for the meal, unless an adequately important excuse was procured, which was rather difficult considering that father had a habit of even ignoring important meetings to attend. The opulent dining room table, typically speaking far too big for a family of our size, sat our “humble” family, the over the top crystal chandelier my stepmother had procured recently lighting our gathering.
Next to me at the head of the table sat my father, a rather skinny and frigid man who I had come to see as uncaring towards most everything, yet strangely stubborn on certain strange things at the same time. He was adamant that as a slightly successful branch-family of the Reinhart clan, that we should practice self reliance in our daily lives, which was probably simply an excuse to not hire “help” to save money. Contrary to that idea however, was the hired chef bringing in our meals at the moment, who father insisted was paramount for “the sanctity of our sacred family dinners.” I knew the real reason, which was that my stepmother simply couldn’t cook, and hell or high water if my father or his son made dinner themselves. I would probably have been forced to make it myself if I wasn’t simply unable to operate the kitchen, one of the few benefits of being in a wheelchair.
According to the members of the main family that I occasionally spoke to, I take greatly after my father in appearance, a fact I didn’t exactly cherish. My frizzy black hair was a nuisance, and I often wished that my brother had inherited the Reinhart clan's violet eyes rather than me, just so that I could sink into obscurity somewhere without the knowledge that everything I did was publicly scrutinized. I wouldn’t mind gazes on me, if it wasn’t the looming threat of them silencing me permanently if I did something that tarnished the family name.
It was stressful.
Across the table from me, my stepmother was, of course, doing one of the three things she was capable of, adoringly gazing at my father. I had no doubt that the other two things, spoiling my half-brother and being blatantly passive aggressive towards my general presence, would soon arrive posthaste. I honestly had no clue what made my father so needlessly attractive to this woman, and as a matter of fact I didn’t know why my biological mother liked him either. I have distinct memories of her doting on him in a way not dissimilar to what my stepmother often did as well. I sort of wish I knew what my father did to get two separate blonde blue-eyed beauties tied to his little finger, if not just so that I could do something similar myself.
My younger half brother Elias sat beside my stepmother, obviously imitating my father’s general demeanor. The kid wasn’t that bad, considering he talked to me every once and a while outside of our nightly dinners, but when in the presence of his mother he became an eerily perfect combination of her good looks and my father’s general atmosphere, a fact I was rather uncomfortable with. It didn’t help that he was seven years younger than me, making him distinctly an innocent child to me, a fact that made him hard to hate.
After probably ten minutes of sitting in silence waiting for the chef, the man we had hired entered with a cart of food. His skills were the real thing, and I always enjoyed the meals he made, especially considering his consideration of my particularities about meat. The only meat I could stomach was poultry, an extremely complicated situation related to a previous cook we had hired. More often than not, he would substitute my meal with something similar that I could actually eat, which was definitely a godsend.
Tonight however, the meal placed before me made me freeze. Spicy roasted vegetables and potatoes, accompanied by a simple but creamy cheese soup. It had once been my favorite dish that we ate seven years ago, but the connection it now held to the memories from that time now stood firm in my mind, and a particular queasiness rose up my chest. I had no clue why the chef made this dish, since we hadn’t eaten it since everything had happened. I nervously glanced at the others, finding the solemn demeanor of my father quite obviously questioned by the confusion on my step-mother’s face. Ever so daintily and gently, my step-mother placed her hand on my father’s, along with a voice of probably feigned worry escaping her lips, the first words spoken since we had all sitten down.
“Grant dear, is there something wrong that I was unaware of? I thought our finances were fine, yet, why are we having such a… paltry meal?”
I inwardly scoffed at her words, since I knew that she was aware of the situation we had been in before she arrived. This had been my biological mothers favorite as well, so it was essentially a reminder to everyone who knew of her absence. I uncomfortably took a bite of potato, the flavor making me want to cry. My father did as well, lifting his fork and placing a potato within his mouth, and I could swear I saw the slightest tinge of sadness emerge; before he put down his fork, causing my heart to do a flip and my step-mother to gasp.
Another one of my father’s peculiarities was that he did not speak before eating all of his food. I wasn’t entirely sure why he did it, but I had only seen him break this silent rule twice before. The first time was actually seven years ago, when I was just ten. I was simply happily eating the same meal, yet my father bluntly stated: “Your mother is dead.”, before innocently picking up his fork and continuing to eat. Additionally, I had barely had three days to process and grieve my mother’s death before he did essentially the same thing to announce his remarriage to my stepmother.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
It was incredibly suspicious to look back on, but most of the information from that time was purged by my stepmother, who took extra lengths to secure her and her son’s position in the family. I quietly wished I could investigate the event, but between my general inability to get around and the blatant embargo of facts, I couldn’t exactly do much about it.
Obviously unperturbed by his own actions, my father glanced at me, blinked, then pulled a letter out of his coat pocket to hand to me. I took it from him, briefly read the first sentence, my face going pale as I read it. My father took a deep breath, then looked at his wife, expression unwavering.
“Senia, a fledgling academy on the edge of the Great Ebony Thicket has offered to take Illa in permanently once she is of age next week, and I have accepted as was your request.”
I couldn’t help but gape at his statement and the fact that he simply went back to eating rather than elaborate. My stepmother couldn’t hold back her grin, and after putting a piece of squash into her mouth and savoring it, I shivered as she sneered at me across the table. This was unironically probably her biggest dream, and she had simply been handed it on a silver platter. I was the only remaining symbol of my biological mother, and my presence here was a constant reminder that she was the second choice. If what I understood about his statement was true, I would no longer be the primary heir to my father, as he was essentially throwing me away. I clenched my fork and went to take a bite despite trembling, almost dropping my untincel as my brother shot to his feet, his solemn facade fading away.
“Father, you’re selling Illa?! Is she even going to be my sister anymore?”
My father, of course, infuriatingly didn’t respond, instead calmly eating his food. Elias, obviously furious at not being in the loop, huffed as he dropped into his chair, then angrily sipped his soup. It was honestly pretty adorable, a fact that immediately made me a bit sad.
My step-mother happily took a swig of wine, rubbing her son’s back afterwards.
“Elias dear, it shall not be an issue. We shall do our best to get you another sister to replace her.”
Shocked at how brazen that statement was, I choked on a potato, and it seemed that Elias was on the same page as he gaped at his mother. Placing his soup spoon onto the bowl, Elias looked as if he was on the verge of tears.
“Mother! She’s your daughter, do you not even care about her?!”
My step-mother snorted and laughed as if what Elias said was a joke, an action that seemingly offended him as he got up in a huff and stormed out of the room. I sighed inwardly at my half-brother’s naivety, something I had grown all too aware of recently. Elias wasn’t exactly wise for his age, and it tended to show through his recent actions, many of which were small pranks that just primarily ended up showing that he cared for me. It was an unfortunate situation, though I didn’t have much I could do about it.
“I’ll go talk to him. You two… enjoy your dinner.”
Doing my best to avoid my stepmother’s glare, I rolled my chair backwards and followed my far too quick brother out into the manor’s garden. It was early autumn, and the trees had just begun to change color. It would have been beautiful if there were any flowers planted, but I had been forbidden to cultivate any years ago, since my father caught me after I had passed out while working. I sort of wished that my stepmother had any sort of appreciation for the simple beauty of a well groomed garden, but she refused to convince my father to hire someone to do it.
The distinct sound of sobbing emanating from one of the garden trees, I smiled sadly as I rolled up to it, placing my hand on the trunk of the tree. I sat there for a bit with my eyes closed, just taking in the silent sobs of my half-brother, who seemingly wished to be alone at the moment. Eventually, the white kitten that had recently found its way into our manor purred as it strolled up to me, rubbing itself upon my chair’s wheels, something that I couldn’t help but smile at.
“Well, if it isn’t the stowaway of our little boat.”
Picking the kitten up, I sighed as I doted on it a bit, the kitten’s purrs increasing in volume to signify the enjoyment of my care. I glanced at Elias, who had climbed to the thickest branch to hide. He flinched at my gaze, a distinct feeling I recognized as guilt crossing his face. Picking the cat up, I held it in front of my face, a small giggle even escaping me.
“Well, Ms. Stowaway, you wouldn’t happen to know where my brother is, do you? He was ever so angry for my sake earlier after all. The brave child was so worried about me, and now I am worried about him in return. If I ever find him, I want to give him a big hug and tell him I will always be his sister, even if everyone else says otherwise.”
Sniffling at my own words, I wipe a tear away and place the kitten in my lap. I turn my chair and begin to roll away, not needing a response to my words. Despite my usual apathy to Elia and his mother, he was still my brother and I cared about him. He was the only person I even remotely considered family, and seeing him so distraught about my situation made me want to cry myself. As I turn out of the garden, the kitten leaps out of my lap, apparently not wanting to leave the garden just yet. I simply sighed, leaving the kitten to its own feline devices.
Not exactly wanting to return to dinner and make myself sick with stress, I returned to my room. It wasn't too far from the garden, which I had a very bittersweet reason for having, not that it was even important anymore considering I had been banned from gardening for a while now.
My room was extremely simple, with just a desk and a bed, but it was more than enough for me, especially considering the quality of the furniture. This was my safe space, and nobody bothered me when I was in here. I wasn't sure why, but it was basically an unspoken rule in the house, as long as I followed the rest of the rules that were in place of course.
Pulling up to my desk, I pulled out a weathered journal and opened to a blank page. I began to vigorously write about the current situation, a habit that I had gotten into thanks to the sheer lack of support I received for my worries. Writing down my thoughts tended to help me focus on what needed to be done in the long term, and this was no different.
Considering that I was to turn eighteen in exactly a week, I didn’t have much time to prepare. Prepare was definitely a relatively strong word to describe what I could do, but it was how I decided to look at it. I didn’t have much at all to my name, thanks to my step-mother’s petty control fetish, and it was far too obvious when I thought about what I could bring with me.
I couldn’t train or anything either, considering my physical state was as it is, and my magical abilities would open on the day I was supposed to leave. I inwardly frowned at the idea that the only thing I could do to prepare for this sudden deployment to a notoriously dangerous area was to study what little information we probably had about it.
With a deep sigh, I roll over to my bed, lifting myself out of my chair and plopping my face into my pillow. Deep inside myself, I knew that I had been suppressing a particular feeling upon being handed the sudden news of my future, one that I was distinctly uncomfortable with having shown up so quickly.
I was excited.
Excited to be free from this life of pseudo-captivity, to be free from my step-mother and father, to be able to see the world and find friends. It was a bittersweet excitement, one I desperately wished that I could ignore. The ideal me that I had constructed in my head in a bid of desperation for attention was devastated at losing her deserved place, her father and family with it. Yet, now? The ideal was burning and crumbling to the ground like a tower before my eyes, my parents having taken a sledgehammer to its side.
Deciding to simply ignore my quickly deteriorating self image, I realized I had forgotten something. Stretching my arm to reach for my chair bag, at the cost of a painfully pulled muscle I managed to retrieve the letter my father had handed me as he made his blunt declaration earlier. I had slipped it into my chair bag before leaving, and I hoped that father wouldn't want it back. In pain from my pulled muscle, I opened the letter once more and began to read.
To Sir Grant Reinhart,
I dearly thank you for your cooperation in my efforts to establish the academy. I understand your initial reluctance to allow me to adopt your eldest daughter, considering her rumored uncanny resemblance to you and the quickly fleeting memories of your dearest departed wife that she returns to you whenever you see her. I am glad to hear that you are finally ready to truly move on emotionally, and I wish you the best of luck in that endeavor.
I do not blame you for the emotions that you held onto for so long, considering that my sister was a truly radiant individual. I do however, hold a grudge for you not allowing me to sooner have custody of my niece.
All is well in the end however, and I gratefully look forward to her arrival for the inaugural school year of the academy.
I had an uncle on my mother's side? I honestly had hoped to have a bit more family, but the fact that he was going to adopt me was honestly probably too good to be true.
The letter continues into a meticulous description of the outcome of the negotiations with the various clans of the empire, which even I could tell went far too well. Suspiciously, he had somehow managed to convince three ducal and four marquise clans to send a direct descendant to learn at his academy; which conveniently was located in the middle of nowhere and surrounded by extremely hostile forest. I could see one, maybe two families agreeing, but seven? He even somehow got the imperial family to agree for the institution to have a minor say in governmental decisions. I figured that there were probably a few things that could have led to this outcome, but I simply didn't have enough context.
The man claiming to be my uncle was immensely suspicious, from coming out of nowhere to somehow managing to somehow negotiate his way into a huge influence on the future of the empire.
Yet despite that, I wanted to know more about him, who he was, how he managed this miracle.
After all, he was claiming to be family.