It had been nearly eight weeks since Everie’d been born. At least, that was based on the flow of time used in her previous world; although, based on the routines the staff at the manor seemed to follow, it did seem like people of this realm did also follow a seven-day per week cycle.
In that time, Everie had taken the liberty of absorbing as much of the local dialect as possible. As she couldn’t yet find reading material or other forms of written text, Everie had to settle for trying to parse the spoken words of her new mother, as well as the maidstaff that waited on both her and Everie herself, for little nuggets of revelation.
That learning the language felt unnaturally simple for her had been a welcome surprise; and a serendipitous one, too, as Everie felt she might have gone insane if she’d been stuck in infanthood limbo any longer.
For some reason, being an immobile, useless lump of flesh feels far more uncomfortable than when I was an immobile, useless lump of soul, thought Everie, grumbling. Well, at least I’m immobile no longer.
She still didn’t know the majority of their vernacular - specifically, vocabulary - but she could roughly construe what people were talking about now.
For one, Everie’s new mother was named Briar, and she always seemed preoccupied with paperwork of some form or another. Presumably, Briar was looking over their family finances; at least, that’s what she thought she was doing, judging from what she discussed, in hushed voices, with Cherry - that was the name of the older maid - in Everie’s presence, ever-so-often.
The specter of exhaustion crept up her limbs like vines as she pushed yet another stubby limb forward. Re-learning how to crawl like this was deeply humiliating, but it was a necessary exercise if it meant rebuilding muscle memory.
Her abdomen thrummed with that same, weird energy Everie had been feeling ever since that day almost six weeks ago. At least she was stronger, now, even if Everie didn’t really understand why.
Explanation’s ‘magic,’ probably, Everie thought, stamping her fist down on the floorboards with frustration. To her mild satisfaction, the ligneous flooring at least had the decency to thrum from her strike.
After the... incident six weeks prior, both the object that had persisted since before her reincarnation, as well as the fragment that the Crying-Demon had gifted her, had collapsed into a point that Everie judged was located somewhere around the center of her abdomen. So had the faux-shell thing that she had formed by cannibalizing the energy her nanny had generously gifted through her levitation and healing spells.
Now, all that was left was a knot; a literal black-hole that Everie had absolutely no idea how to manipulate, at all.
One upside to all this, though, was that she could finally sense the energy that seemed to fuel the magic the people of this world seemed to use. And it was everywhere - in the air, in the floorboards, underneath the floorboards in the heating, ventilation, and sewage systems that this ancient manor surprisingly possessed.
Maybe this world isn’t so archaic after all, thought Everie. Well, it wasn’t like my old world had very much in the vein of advanced technology either.
Of course, that also meant Everie could also ‘see’ the core-shaped objects located in the abdomen of not just her nanny, but in Briar and the wizened maid Cherry that seemed to follow her around all the time, too. So clearly, Everie had been on the right track when she was forming her own version of whatever they had - at least, before everything went to hell.
It wasn’t like everything was hopeless. For one, Everie could still feel the same energy roiling inside whatever the knot in her abdomen was, which she could feel despite it being invisible to her new senses. Everie thought if she really tried, she’d be able to reveal whatever lay dormant inside it.
Sort of like withdrawing fish from an aperture in ice, thought Everie, crawling forward. She’d been able to crawl surprisingly far in the brief time her nanny had left to go to the bathroom - she’d been significantly more careful when handling Everie these past six weeks. Of course, that was likely due to the incident.
Everie shivered. She still remembered the feeling of her abdomen tearing itself apart, blood and that- that fluid exploding out of her skin and orifices.
Yeah, I’m not trying that again anytime soon, she thought, wincing. Not ‘till I learn more about how magic functions, anyway.
She heard chatter behind her. Someone was coming from behind her - probably that nanny of hers. Daphne, she was called.
Everie grit her teeth. Shit. Not so soon! She pushed herself, crawling faster.
The end of the hallway was in her sights. Everie had been carried past this place everyday for the past week; she already knew the layout as if it were inscribed on the back of her hand - or at least, for this small part of the manor. From what she’d seen of it, Everie knew the mansion she’d been born in was absolutely massive.
Everie had looked out the windows once, and although much of the view had been obscured by what resembled a hurricane of sleet and snow, it was clear enough for Everie to approximate the size of the mansion from how far the grounds seemed to stretch. And they stretched far - the edge of the forest that seemed to demarcate the edge of the land her family owned looked like it was over a hundred meters away.
That meant she was living in a glorified palace.
If the decadence hadn’t already convinced her, Everie knew now that she'd been born into the absolute lap of luxury - a conflicting feeling, what with this life looking like it was the complete opposite of her previous.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
There! Everie gurgled triumphantly as she rolled on her stomach, past the ornate, gold-framed floor-to-ceiling mirror that was set up next in the corner-
-and tumbled down an entire flight of stairs.
To her dizzy astonishment, it didn’t hurt. It certainly ached, but a drop of that height could reasonably have broken her neck, had she landed on the wrong spot.
She was still dazed, though. Everie lay there, flat on her back, chest heaving. She’d never made it to part of the manor before; since she’d been born, Everie had been confined only to the stifling hallway and the rooms it connected to that she’d been born in.
I rolled down a flight of stairs, though, she thought, grimacing, so it seems like I’m... down to the first floor now, perhaps? How tall is this mansion anyway?
Everie blinked. Her vision, though still blurry, had at least cleared somewhat. It was enough for her to see where she was.
She was lying smack-dab in the center of the landing of one of those opulent double-grand-staircases all fancy buildings seem to have. The entire thing was constructed out of that same luxurious liquorice- black wood that the rest of the mansion was made of, as well as the same inscriptions and embossments that decorated the rest of the mansion. The- were those handrails made of gold?
And that wasn’t all. As Everie’s gaze turned upwards, she saw the painting that loomed behind the entire staircase; the frame containing the eerily lifelike visage that was now staring sternly down upon her.
Everie swallowed.
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Daphne was, for lack of a better word, terrified.
And it was all because of that brat- sorry, she meant, the young miss.
Not that Daphne would ever be rude to the daughter of a powerful ducal family, ‘course. Sure, she might have been a bit of an eyesore back when she was doing her undergrad, but she wasn’t that stupid. By that, she meant respecting hierarchy an’ other stuff. Otherwise, they’d take her research away! She was only a baronial daughter, after all.
Well. All of that was in the past. Her research was gone anyway, disappeared off into the musty archives of Therellian’s. Her babies - by that, meaning her prototype ether capacitors - had probably met the same fate. Or, some enterprising crook- sorry, she meant ‘scholar’ had taken them and her papers and published her life’s work.
Whatever the case, that didn’t matter anymore. Daphne was just glad she was alive, but she wouldn’t be for much longer if she didn’t find the young miss in the next few minutes.
Daphne grumbled to herself as she stalked down the second- floor northern-eastern corridor. She’d gone to the bathroom for three minutes! For a young lady like her, that was practically no time at all! And the little tyke had still managed to disappear herself, as soon as she’d turned her back.
Well. The other twelve times this had happened, Daphne had managed to find her relatively quickly, swaddle her up in blankets, and dump the young miss in her bassinet. She had to admit, she was getting a tad worried now.
“Where are you, where are you...” Daphne muttered, gaze flickering across the same-looking blackwood architecture that seemed to pervade this entire mansion. Really, Daphne was grateful to the Medeas for taking her in after... that, but she didn’t know what their ‘great ancestor’ was thinking when designing this place. It certainly looked like it had been the home of a now thousand-year-old hero.
She reached the end of the corridor, and her heart sank. Magic-baby or not, there was no way an infant would be able to climb down an entire flight of stairs. That was just ridiculous. It wasn’t scientific at all. It-
Daphne frowned, spellbound. Huh. She bit her lip, as if to convey her thoughts: how’d the young miss get down there?
To her credit, three seconds was all it took for Daphne to snap out of her and hurry down the stairs, albeit cursing all the way.
She collapsed next to the child, who seemed utterly preoccupied with looking at something. Daphne scooped the young miss up, pulling her close and casting a smoldering glare upon her.
“What am I gonna do with you,” she muttered, sighing. Her maid dress chafed, so she drew out her crouch into more of a sprawl. “Can’t you stay still, young miss? Che- The head-maid’s gonna kill me if you keep disappearing yourself like this.”
The young miss finally broke her stare. And she had the gall to glare at her! Daphne would’ve been angry if it weren’t for the fact that her heart had already melted from the little tyke’s coldhearted stare- seriously, if she wasn’t so cute, then Daphne would’ve punted her across the Dukedom already!
...Well, that, and the fact that she was Daphne’s liege’s daughter. Wouldn’t do her reputation much good as nanny to one of the most powerful heiresses in the kingdom by blasting her into bits with electrostatic magic.
“I guess I’m not being fair,” she muttered. After all, it wasn’t like Daphne herself had been the paragon of infant virtue - that being staying quiet and staying still - when she had been young herself.
The child in her arms shifted. Already, a mop of black-purple hair had begun to grow on her head. She was pretty heavy for a baby, too.
“Huh?” Daphne said, frowning. “You tryna’ look at something?”
Then she felt it. She turned around, slowly, and found herself face-to- face with a stern, stately woman. She had void-black irises, flecked with a starburst of violet, and skin so pale that it resembled snow. More a vampire or spirit than human - a very pretty vampire, but a vampire nonetheless. Only the lack of fangs or bat wings proved otherwise, though Daphne supposed vampires could hide those with magic. But description aside, even Daphne knew who this was.
“That’s ancestor Medea,” Daphne said. It was more for the young miss than anything; it wasn’t much different from what Daphne had been doing these past six weeks, ever since the incident - reading her books to the child. It was mostly because the young miss stared at her hungrily whenever Daphne read in her presence, and settled down comfortably as soon as she began to share.
It’s not like she understands what I’m saying, right? ‘Cause that’d be ridiculous. And unscientific, even with magic.
“She’s your... great-great-great something mother, I guess. Ninety-Ninth and final Hero of the order. Handmaiden of the Aerith, before she died in the War against Heaven. The picture was commissioned by one of her friends, back when the Heroes were going ‘round all over helping the world rebuild.”
Daphne swallowed. Something about this painting had always seemed eerie to her - it didn’t help that it was always in full view to anyone that entered the manor through the front door or was climbing the grand staircase. “There. Let’s head back now, yeah?”
The young miss stared at her with those weirdly deep, soulful eyes of hers, before nuzzling against Daphne’s chest. It crinkled her new but already not very pristine maid uniform, but Daphne couldn’t care less because she was so cute! By the Heroes, this time Daphne would be extra careful when handling her. Wouldn’t want a repeat of last time.
As she hustled back to the lady’s bedroom, Daphne thought she sensed ether pulsating inside the young miss’ body. It was weirdly pure, though, and so faint and brief that even Daphne, with her heightened senses, barely detected it, so she let it go.
Probably wasn’t anything much, anyway.