Before Sayko could begin to process her surroundings, the scents of sage, marjoram, and rosemary filled her nose. Several bushels were hanging from the ceiling, wafting their delicious aromas throughout the room. The oak floors and ceiling reminded Sayko of cozy cottage-core photos she had seen on social media, yet none could capture the atmosphere here. Everything had been comfortably worn and spoke to the warm memories of the inhabitants.

Entering through a small breezeway, they entered a modest living room complete with fireplace. Several armchairs filled the room with large rug between them cushioning a coffee table in the center from scratching up the floor. A fireplace was affixed at the head of the room, a

mantle lying above it that had several framed black and white photos that depicted a happy family of

four.

Feeling one of Celica’s hands grip Sayko’s arm in a reassuring manner, she spoke.

“It’s not much, but it’s home. We never wanted something extravagant, just enough space for the four of us to be close. Although, while you’ve been asleep, its mostly been just me…” Her thoughts drifted off as she pondered the last six years.

Shaking her head, Celica continued the short tour of the humble abode. Sayko didn’t particularly want to interrupt her thoughts, but her curiosity bubbled at what the situation of her new family was. Why was her older ‘sister’ absent? Where was her ‘father’?

Gesturing at the door to an adjoining room, Celica continued.

“That’s the kitchen and wash basins in there. There’s a backdoor that leads outside to a small garden where I’ve been growing herbs for cooking and trading. The staircase over there to the left leads up to our bedrooms and the bathroom.”

An archaic stone staircase lead up to a second floor, a crude rail affixed to the wall beside it. The steps seemed to be made of granite, dust and ash clinging to their forms. The incline was rather steep compared to modern staircases, but Sayko assumed function trumped form to anyone but a noble in this world.

“Let me take those boxes from you and we’ll get you upstairs and into bed. I know you’ve only been awake a few hours, but I imagine you’re exhausted nonetheless.”

Scooping up the boxes off Sayko’s lap, Celica stacked them into one of the chairs. Coming back to the wheelchair, she knelt in front of the girl.

“I don’t want to startle you again trying to carry the chair up the stairs, so I’d prefer to carry you… if that’s okay!”

Blinking several times, embarrassment began to set in. She felt pathetic relying on someone for something as basic as going up stairs, having spent her adult life relying only on herself. Yet, she knew

she physically couldn’t refuse the woman’s kindness, sucking up her pride with a deep breath in.

“Y-yeah, I don’t think I have much of a choice.”

Gripping the wheelchair’s arm rests, Sayko pulled herself forward into Celica’s arms. As she was lifted out of the chair, she wrapped her arms as tightly as she could muster around her mother’s neck.

Rising to a standing position, Celica walked ploddingly to the stairs. Stopping for a moment at the base of the steps, she whispered an affirmation into Sayko’s ear.

“I know it’s probably embarrassing to be carried like this but depending on your loved ones isn’t weakness. Weakness is being too proud to acknowledge when you need help.”

Feeling Sayko’s arms tremble, Celica cautiously went up the stairs as quickly as she could manage, planting each step firmly into the stone. Meanwhile, Sayko desperately tried to blink away tears as her grip weakened, the last of her energy leaving her limbs. Fatigue was already whispering sweet nothings in her ears.

Reaching the top of the stairs, Celica turned to the first door on the left in the hallway that met them. Seeing that the door was slightly ajar, she nudged it open with the toe of her boot. Inside, a rather quaint room met them. Scuttling over to the bed, Celica freed an arm to quickly throw back the sheets, setting the girl down onto the bed. After pulling up the covers up and under her arms, she took a step back to admire her daughter.

The room itself was somehow exactly what Sayko expected. Although most of her possessions were modest, it was a moment captured in time for when her body was eight years old. Toys and plush were neatly stacked in a small hamper in the corner, the walls covered in endearing paintings of green pastures, sunshine, and rainbows. Deep down, it was something she would’ve adored as a child, had her parents had the energy for her.

It promptly caught her eye that despite the lack of use the past eight years, the room was spotless, not a trace of dust. The sheets also smelled fresh; the entire room having been kept clean even though there was no guarantee the occupant would ever return. Not even a stray cobweb had taken up residence in any of the corners.

Her heart felt pangs of guilt that a stranger now occupied the body of her child, the daughter she had patiently waited years to bring home.

If I wasn’t such a coward, I’d tell her outright that I’m not Senna. She deserves that much. I’m just a stranger walking into someone else’s life.

Interrupting the morose thoughts, a rather large yawn escaped her mouth, her eyelids feeling heavy.

“You must be exhausted from the day you’ve had,” Celica chuckled, “Why don’t you take a nap? I’ll make you a lunch and put away your new clothes for you. I also need to write a letter to your sister; she’ll want to visit as soon as she finds out you’re awake.”

“That sounds amazing. I’m sorry that my body is so pathetic…” Swooping in and putting a hand on Sayko’s face, a sober expression had erased a smile.

“Neither you nor your body is pathetic. Having you home in exchange for a few months of recovery is the most insignificant price to pay.” Unable to think of how to respond, Sayko merely nodded in acknowledgment.

Are most parents like this?

“Anyways… I’ll be downstairs. If you need anything at all, don’t be afraid to ask, okay?”

“O-okay…”

Stopping at the door, Celica flipped around. Striding over to the toy hamper, she dug through a few trinkets until she finally retrieved a pink rabbit plush from the depths of the container. Bringing it to

the bed, she extended it towards Sayko.

“When you were small, this was your favorite stuffed toy, especially when you were sick. You called him Mister Floppit.”

The stuffed animal was maybe a foot long, his ears nearly as long as his body. He wore a grey, three-piece suit and had a small top hat stitched to his head. Two buttons acted as his eyes; one clearly having been resewn on from some childhood mishap.

“You’ve probably outgrown something like this, but…” Stars filled Sayko’s eyes as she greedily eyed the rabbit. Her deep, dark secret as a thirty-three-year-old office worker was that her only offline friends were several dozen plushies that she kept around her apartment.

He’s ADORABLE! He’d easily be seventy-five smackeronis on Metsy!

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

“NO! NEVER! He is PERFECT!” Her outburst almost making Celica leap out of her skin in surprise.

“R-really!? Your auntie Reyna made him for you for your sixth birthday. She put a small enchantment in him that helps you drift off to sleep a little bit quicker. Although… I didn’t really want to tell you that as a child since this was my go-to for when you were being fussy about going to bed…” She turned away, sheepishly.

Her heart skipped a beat.

This girl was loved beyond measure.

Gingerly taking the plush with her weak hands, she clutched him tightly against her chest. True to what Celica said, she began to feel waves of drowsiness wash over her. She somehow doubted the enchantment was particularly strong, more so that exhaustion was finally rearing its ugly head. Celica bent down to kiss Sayko’s forehead, whispering a simple ‘sleep well, darling,” in her ear before a curtain of darkness fell over the room.

In a darkened lounge that reeked of cigars and brandy, a figure sat motionless, leaning back in an armchair. They remained so still, in fact, that from a distance you’d swear they were a mannequin. The only giveaway that they were alive was the occasional blink as they pondered why they had been called upon by their ‘monsignor’.

The figure was lavishly dressed in a suit that looked out of place anywhere but the most avant-garde social event. They were adorned in a mulberry purple suit jacket with gold and white accents and a small, novelty matching top hat atop their choppy, styled hair. The hair itself was a mixture of blonde and black, a strange duality that would seem clashing anywhere other than this person’s head. Their slacks were also a matching mulberry shade, the seam a brilliant gold that accented their outfit well. The lounge itself was illuminated by ghostly crimson lights hung from the ceiling;they emitted a particular hue that was said to disrupt enchanted goggles or glasses, rendering them useless. Yet, if you found yourself an unwilling guest of Bastogne Manor, you generally had far more pressing matters than worrying about your glasses.

As they patiently waited in silence to be called upon, a woman entered the room from a doorway behind them. She stared for several moments at the motionless figure in the armchair, before slowly withdrawing a syringe from her elaborate, Lolita dress. Nimble fingers then slipped it to be hidden flush with her forearm as she silently crept forward. Her hair was styled like a wavy bob cut, the color a strawberry red that bled into a light pink ombre. The dress was a mixture of pink and black, with a large bow on the back, and fringe running around the hem. Everything about her appearance was striking, turning heads nearly everywhere she went.

Reaching striking distance, she readied herself to lunge forward at the figure, her scarlet eyes filling with bloodlust. Her mouth watered, and just as she was ready to pounce, her prey spoke.

“Violet…”

Twirling the syringe back into her dress without even a hesitation, the girl smiled widely.

“Yes? What is it my dearest brother Orchid?” Turning to face the girl, an empty smile met her.

“Everything about you is a juxtaposition, isn’t it? Why are you so desperate to slip a syringe beneath my skin?”

“I’m not going to drain you like a REGULAR mark! I just want to take a peek…” she side stepped to his flank, “No, a traipse! A journey, even!” She did a mock pirouette, making a dramatic pose with her hands in the air. “To see what makes your clock tick, tock, and even chime!”

“My memories are mere tears washed away by rain; unremarkable fragments unworthy of comment. Besides, those track marks,” he gestured at her left arm, “they indicate that you’ve been dabbling more than necessary for your craft.”

“It’s not just about espionage, it’s about getting to tie a noose around your victim’s neck with their own dirty secrets!”

Before their conversation could continue, the door to a study creaked open, a figure leaning half out to eye the pair.

“Orchid, I’m ready to speak with you,” His silver eyes flashing in the ominous lighting as he spoke.

“Yes, Monsignor.”

Orchid made a prompt bow before walking to enter the room, Violet scurrying behind him. Without having to cast a glance back, Monsignor called out to Violet.

“Sweetie, I didn’t invite you. This conversation is between your brother and me.” A scowl raced across her face as she folded her arms. She swiftly turned away to leave the lounge, visibly pouting.

“I never get invited to anything juicy…” She murmured under her breath.

Closing the door behind himself, Orchid stood at attention beside two armchairs that were positioned before a massive desk. Many of the walls were lined with bookcases and shelves adorned by weapons, trinkets, and flasks.

The only windows occupying the room were a set of bay windows directly behind Monsignor’s desk chair. However, these were blackened and barred shut to stop any sunlight or practical use. The curtains, if you could call them that, were long since the victims of moths and time.

“Take a seat, child.” Sliding down into one of the armchairs, Orchid crossed his legs as Monsignor took a seat on the opposite side.

Smiling, fingers intertwined between both hands, Monsignor spoke.

“How would you like to visit the city of Enzen?”

Waking up from her nap, Sayko was greeted by Celica with a plate of eggs and diced potatoes on flatbread. It was an otherworldly aroma that caused instant salivation, her taste buds tingling wildly. It

made the girl wonder when she had last eaten a proper breakfast.

Still, having the wherewithal to worry about upsetting her stomach, she took her time eating the meal. The restraint it took to not shovel it down after the first bite grew tenfold, tears of joy filling her eyes. There was an aromatic black tea accompanying the meal with notes of cinnamon and lemon in it. Her mother grinned, waiting patiently for her to finish, overjoyed that the food was a rousing success.

“How long was I asleep?” Sayko asked as she passed back an empty wooden plate to Celica.

She was privately shocked that this entire experience wasn’t an elaborate, lucid dream, expecting to wake up back in the “real world”. Yet somehow she wasn’t disappointed about it, either. Truthfully, there wasn’t anything or anyone waiting for her back home.

“A couple hours, not terribly long. Ah, you have egg on your mouth!” She grabbed a cloth napkin she had been keeping on her lap and dabbed the corner of Sayko’s mouth. “I came up and watched you

sleep for most of it. Around thirty-ish minutes ago you started to toss and mutter in your sleep, so I figured it was time to go make some food.”

“I was muttering in my sleep?”

“Yes, a bit. I couldn’t make out most of it, but it sounded like you were in pain… Or maybe upset about something?”

I wonder what I said? Hopefully it wasn’t something stupid like about PVE smurfs or expense reports…

“I was more so worried that you weren’t going to wake back up. Back then… when Eryx cast that vile curse upon the world, you had gone to bed like any other night, but you didn’t wake up when the

morning came.”

Sayko’s stomach sank.

I have to tell her.

“Who is Eryx…? What exactly is this curse?” Nearly tripping over her own words trying to hide her rising anxiety.

Sighing, a distant look filled Celica’s eyes.

“The long and short of it is, about fifty years ago a kronomancer-“

“Kronomancer?” Sayko interrupted, wondering if the title was literal.

“A mage specializing in time and space magic. This kronomancer was named Eryx, a wandering mage from the northern wastes. He was probably one of the most brilliant minds of the last several centuries, and revolutionized… well… everything.”

“But..?”

“I don’t know if anyone really knows why, but one day the fame and praise of revolutionizing the world’s technology wasn’t enough. He wanted to become a god emperor, and when the nations of the continent expressed their disdain for a man made god, he declared war on everyone. At least, that’s the short version.”

“It’s really never that simple though, is it?” Sayko wondered aloud.

Staring poignantly for a moment, Celica nodded.

“Anyways! That’s not something you need to worry about right now. You’ll learn plenty about that later when you eventually attend school again!” she paused, a look of guilt on her face, “I don’t want to rush you, but when you feel ready, we’ll see about getting you walking again. We’ll also need to figure out school eventually as well.”

A moment of dread shot it’s hooks through Sayko’s chest.

Dear god, do I have to experience school all over again!? No, that’s not really the issue, I need to say something.

“Do you remember how to read or write-“

“Mo… Celica.” Sayko said quietly, tears forming in her eyes.

Sayko’s heart sped up, her throat tightening.

“It’s fine if you don’t remember! You were early on in your education so starting over won’t be a problem!”

“Celica!”

Celica stopped for a moment, caught off guard by Sayko using her given name rather than ‘mom’.

“What’s wrong, angel?”

Tears began to stream down Sayko’s face.

“I’m not Senna.”