Even beneath the thick curtains, I could see stronger rays of light fracture its way through - It must already be summer. Even then, I want the ceaseless chirping of birds and knocking of Fairies by the window to stop.

I’m at my limit.

The slow descent of bodily atrophy feels like it’s in its last stand. Mind going quiet like an eventual decrescendo. Pulse slowing to a gander. The pain gracefully dims as my senses slowly go numb.

Ah, so this is it.

Shutting my eyes, everything is dark.

An image of mother humming in our estate’s garden fills my mind. Her platinum blonde hair glows in the morning light, reflecting ripples off the pool. It dances through the ground and plays with one another causing abstract shapes. Ethereal radiance causes everything to look out of focus.

I look behind and see father watching over us, his flax hair lays motionless. Leaning by the entrance way, shadows intermingle to cause a sharp and clear contrast. His eyes gently crinkle as he smiles, it looks melancholic and sad.

I stand halfway between the two.

My body shoots up, I take a large gulp of breath and my chest feels as if it were splintering down the middle, like a lightning strike to a fresh tree.

My hands reach for the bedside table, but I lose balance and fall off. My legs don’t listen to my commands and are unable to support my weight, its decay inevitable from a season of neglect. I crash to the floor and can already feel the bruises forming on my knees. I see my arms then, they are pale bones shaking.

Ignoring the disturbing sight, I reach for the pitcher and force the water down my throat, choking in rasping burns between gulps. When I finish downing the whole thing, I grab the bed-frame and hoist myself upwards.

Slowly, my toes regain feeling, so I try inching towards the bathroom. Falling again, I decide it's easier to just crawl instead. I use the sink to heft myself up, gasping from the sheer effort. I look at the mirror.

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Wow, I look terrible.

My hair is a bird’s nest of tangles and straw. Eyes swollen shut, it’s red and discolored from strain. Skin tone as white as willow bark, it only enhances the sickly pallor and gangly physique I now don. The sight of myself in this state clogs my chest with guilt.

I’m sorry mother. How could I have almost thrown away this precious life you gave me? To die without knowing the truth behind your death.

I’m sorry father. How could I have almost abandoned you when you’re also suffering? To not just lose your wife, but also your daughter. That would have been too cruel.

A whiff of my hair causes me to somehow blanch even further, I smell terrible too…

Practically flinging myself into the bathtub, I have to struggle to pump the automatic waterway system. When ice cold liquid begins siphoning through, a bit of satisfaction floods me. The loud torrent of water crawls upwards, embracing my toes first, then my ankles and knees.

A swarm of footsteps crackle through the hallway. Maids burst into the bathroom, out of breathe. They look at me in shock, eyes seeming to communicate 'Why’s this girl sitting in the bathtub so nonchalantly?'

The right words evade me, only a faint uneasiness grips me. “All this time… I-I’m sorry for…” Not having heard myself in so long, there was an uncomfortable thought that this voice did not belong to me.

One maid clasps her hand over her mouth. They all pause for what seems like an eternity.

She hunches over and begins crying. I look at her in surprise. The action causes a chain reaction. Another falls to her knees and also starts sobbing. Covering her face with both hands, I can’t make out her muffled words other than miracle. Ms. Anne’s eyes never stray from my own, even when two streams of tears run down her face. Voice breaking, it’s also filled to the brim with elation, “Please allow this humble servant to warm your bath, Lady Aeriea.”

The one fallen over loudly mumbles behind her hands about retrieving a fresh change of clothing and shakily gets up.

Still sobbing, the first maid runs off while yelling, “I will make that lazy chef prepare the best meal you’ve ever had, even if I have to beat him to do it! Just leave it to me!”

W-Wha… Looking down at the ripples in the bathtub, a familiar warmth spreads through my body even in the chilled water.

Thank you all. I grip my hands, nails digging into my palm. I will become someone worthy enough for such devotion and love. Something catches in my throat.

Mother.

Father.

I will become someone worthy enough to inherit the Newlyn name.

Worthy enough to say with my chest puffed up in pride, that I am Eve and Arcanis’ daughter.

This single, burning ambition sparks, lighting up my heart.