"But I'm not tired, Madam. Little Amy still needs me. Please rest yourself. Good night." Elisa dropped a simple curtsy before moving toward the bedside.

"Elisa." Daisy Clawyn caught her wrist with gentle firmness. "You're the one who needs rest." Her eyes held the maid's gaze. "Don't argue with me about this. You haven't slept in days, Elisa." Worry crept into her voice. "Did you think I wouldn't notice? You've spent nights watching over Amy so I could rest, without a wink of sleep. Then, when it was my turn, you went even further. Every time exhaustion claimed me by the bedside, you'd try to carry me back to my chamber and take the vigil yourself. Sometimes you succeeded - I'd wake in my own bed thinking it all a dream. Even when you couldn't lift me without risking waking me, you wouldn't surrender. You'd bring that absurd purple wool blanket of yours - yes, it's still absurd - and curl up at that old desk for whatever rest you could find." Her pale lips trembled. "Sometimes I wonder why Sfinna entrusted you to me, and how you grew into such a precious soul."

Elisa lowered her eyes, wordless. After a moment, she squeezed Daisy's arm gently. "Then... I'll rest, Madam. Ring if you need anything." Words seemed to gather at her lips but remained unspoken. She moved quickly past Daisy toward the door. As she reached for the heavy oak, she glanced back, finding her mistress's gaze still fixed upon her, filled with concern, care, and maternal warmth.

She nearly left before memory caught her. "Oh, Madam," she turned back. "When Miss Amy woke earlier, she called out something... let me think." Her brow furrowed in concentration. "Ah, yes - it was the Master's name."

"The Master?" A pang of fear shot through Daisy's heart. "You mean Carl?"

"Carl!" The small figure in the bed latched onto the name, her tiny hands patting the covers. "Carl! Carl!"

Fear gripped Daisy's soul. She gathered those small hands in hers, voice gentle as spring rain. "Don't worry, Amy. Your father's just away working. He'll return soon. Mother promises, all right?"

Amy's clear dark eyes swam with questions. "Working? Where?"

"Well..." Daisy's voice trailed off.

"In another country, Miss," Elisa stepped in, settling beside Amy. "The Master must work there awhile before returning home."

"Another country?" The little girl's gaze fixed on Elisa's almond eyes. "What's... never mind! What's he doing there?"

Neither woman could answer at first. Daisy's face clouded with pain until Elisa spoke softly: "Your father is a knight. He... the Master went to... to guard that land for a time. He'll return soon." Though Daisy nodded agreement, her heart wept silent tears.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

"Guard it...?" Amy rolled the words on her tongue. "Why? Don't they have enough people there?" The questions tumbled out. "Is he helping them?"

"Yes, little one." Elisa touched her cheek softly. "They need help, so your father went."

"Oh..." Amy played with her fingers. "Not enough people... because they're all dead?" The question fell like ice into still water, her face blank as fresh parchment.

Time crystallized around them.

But she shifted moods like quicksilver, so fast neither woman could gather their thoughts. "Mommy," she looked up. "If Daddy's helping people in another country, is he a hero?"

Though it pierced her heart, Daisy yielded. "Yes, your father is a hero." She held her daughter close, hiding her twisting features. "A hero to us and to our nation."

She dried her eyes and forced a smile, hoping to stem the tide of painful questions.

Amy blinked, and Daisy's relief bloomed brief as frost.

"LIES!" The child's scream shattered the night. "All lies! You're weaving stories like spider webs!"

Daisy recoiled as if struck. "He's not... he's just..." Amy's voice faded to sobs.

Silence wrapped around them like a shroud.

They gave her space to grieve. Elisa stroked her pale hair, sharing sorrow for all three of them.

Finally, Amy's tears slowed. "Mommy..." Her whisper carried death's chill. "Will Carl... will Daddy die?"

The question struck like lightning. Daisy broke. "How dare you!?" She surged to her feet. "Why would you... are you cursing your own father!? Oh gods..." She swayed until Elisa caught her. Tears flooded past her fingers. "Forgive me, Amy. Those words... please forgive me."

Amy's empty response cut deeper than her question. "Will Carl die?"

"Never, Miss," Elisa answered quickly. "He has Marquis Wynlers with him, so..."

"Yes, Tyler's there. Uncle Tyler will protect him," Daisy managed, wiping her silk dress.

Elisa helped her sit.

"What if Tyler dies too?" The child's voice held winter's heart.

"He won't die!" Daisy exploded upright. "Tyler can't die so easily! He was a Royal Knight! Carl won't die! They're both master swordsmen!" Her fists shook. "They have knights, riders, mercenaries with them! Others might fall, but not them!" Her voice cracked. "I don't care about the others! I just... I just want them home..." She collapsed like a puppet with cut strings.

Elisa couldn't reach her, teetering herself on breakdown's edge.

"Please... say no more, Amy Clawyn. I can't bear another word..." Daisy Clawyn's plea whispered like a dying breath.

"...Heh..." A terrible smile twisted the girl's face. "They'll die... all die... screaming... ah... hahahaha... HAHAHA!" Her laughter, chilling and unnatural, sent birds scattering from the manor roof.

They stared at their beloved child, transformed to something from nightmare.

"AH!" Amy's scream pierced their hearts. Her body blazed like forge-fire. The laughter died, its echoes chasing the birds skyward as she collapsed.

Chaos claimed her once more.