The rain had stopped. Only for half a day, but still, for a brief moment, the sky cleared, and I could see the bright sun again. Yet its rays never touched my pale skin. I refused to go downstairs, to pass by the corpse that had been rotting there for a week, and to step out through the main door—something my father would surely notice and eagerly use as an opportunity to catch me.

No one had come for him. Though my father’s accomplice claimed that someone would, that he was an important man, it hadn’t happened the next day as promised. After a week, the body reeked unbearably. I couldn’t even go near it. I hated my heightened sense of smell, which I couldn’t simply turn off like my vision. I wandered the halls blindly, imagining what might be happening to the corpse.

I had planned to spend the day with the others in the library, watching Jelissa rummage through forbidden books. My eldest sister was trying to understand angelic magic in hopes of finding a way to get us out of here. It would be pointless to take away her hope or try to explain that she would never defeat Father. How could she? He had spent centuries accumulating power, studying forbidden darkness, and perfecting himself. He cared about only two things—his war against the incomplete and his relentless pursuit of strength.

The library doors burst open.

Jelissa dropped the heavy book she was holding, and it hit the floor with a loud thud. Oswin jumped up from the ground, instinctively summoning her wings in shock, even though she had been calmly drawing just moments before. Ewordie grabbed a lantern and lifted it as if ready to defend himself.

I was the only one who didn’t move. Sitting closest to the door, I clutched a worn-out book in my hands. How had the others been so startled? They should have expected something like this. Yet they stood frozen, staring wide-eyed at the open door. No one spoke.

Slowly, I turned my head.

I was surprised, too. It wasn’t Father standing in the doorway, as usual—but Mother. She was looking straight at me.

Her hair was neatly styled, she wore new clothes, and she had even applied makeup. She looked like a ghostly version of the woman I vaguely remembered from my childhood.

“There’s food waiting downstairs. Come, let’s eat together,” she said in a hoarse yet surprisingly gentle voice. For a brief moment, she stopped staring at me, forced a stiff smile, and turned her gaze to the others.

I raised an eyebrow and opened my mouth, but no words came out. I probably looked like a fish out of water. A chill ran down my spine.

I wasn’t sure whether to respond.

Had she really come to invite us to lunch? That was unthinkable. I hadn’t heard those words in years. This had to be another test. An experiment.

Ewordie was the first to move.

Mother remained standing in the doorway, watching us intently. Her gaze followed our every slow movement, as if waiting for someone to resist—or to run.

What was she doing?

What the hell was I doing here?

This was the performance I had sworn never to play again. She hadn’t woken up. She hadn’t become a new woman overnight. She hadn’t found a lost soul—she had simply slipped out of her role for a moment. Maybe, for an instant, her old self had resurfaced, but I knew it wouldn’t last.

How would Oswin feel when Mother fell back into emptiness again?

I lifted my gaze and looked across the table. Jelissa was staring at Mother just as I was—only with even more hatred. Out of the corner of our eyes, we both glanced at Oswin and Ewordie.

They were smiling.

Surprisingly, they had allowed themselves to be swept away by this wave of falseness. They had let themselves be deceived.

Did they not realize that soon everything would return to the way it was?

Or did just refuse to accept it?

We’ll get them out of here.

Jelissa didn’t say it aloud—she only moved her lips. I read the words easily because I was thinking the exact same thing.

A tear rolled down my right cheek. I wiped it away quickly before anyone could notice.

But she noticed.

My eldest sister—the strongest of us all, who loved us more than her own life.

We’ll escape.

She did it again.

I froze as realization struck me.

We weren’t just going to get them out of this damned dining hall—we were going to flee this house. I had no idea how she planned to do it. Maybe she didn’t either. But one thing was clear—we couldn’t stay here any longer.

Things had gone too far.

Mother returned with a large silver tray. It had surely once been used for serving food, but I had never seen it before. Where had she been hiding it all this time?

She placed it in the center of the table, and my eyes nearly popped out of my head. On the tray lay a roasted chicken with herbs. Beside it were potatoes and a salad garnish. We were familiar with potatoes and salad—but meat? Not like this.

At that moment, I no longer cared whether it was poisoned. Suddenly, I felt as if I hadn’t eaten in an eternity. I stared at the large portion of meat, feeling the overwhelming urge to ignore everyone and devour it all myself.

The only one who didn’t rush to eat was Jelissa. On the other hand, Oswin was the most eager. She knelt on her chair, pressed her hands against the table, and leaned closer to the chicken. The aroma of the food was intoxicating—especially after a day spent inhaling nothing but the stench of a decaying body. A shiver ran down my spine.

My gaze drifted to Jelissa’s hands. They were trembling uncontrollably, and she couldn’t stop them. The sight sent a wave of fear through me. Suddenly, I struggled to breathe, as if a foreign object were pressing against my lungs, preventing me from inhaling properly. I had to remind myself to stay calm—to keep from collapsing. Now was not the time.

Mother reached out to serve Oswin a piece of meat.

Before I could react, Jelissa abruptly stood up and swung her hand sharply. Angelic magic shot across the room, striking the plate and knocking it from Mother’s grasp. It crashed to the ground with a deafening clatter, shattering into pieces. A portion of food landed on the filthy carpet.

“Don’t touch her!” Jelissa snapped at her. “You’re not poisoning her with that slop. You don’t even know how to cook!” she continued, both hands still raised—ready to summon a shield or defend herself.

“Jelissa,” Mother said, her voice low. She closed her eyes, and the smile disappeared from her face.

“Go upstairs!” Jelissa didn’t break eye contact. She didn’t even blink—she knew she was facing a dangerous opponent.

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But no one moved.

Not a single one of us stood up or obeyed.

I knew only one thing—she wouldn’t send me away. I would stay by her side, be ready to act.

But the other two had to leave.

“DIDN’T YOU HEAR ME?!” Jelissa screamed, her gaze locked onto Oswin.

Our youngest sister wanted to obey.

“I… I can’t stand up!” Ewordie’s frightened voice broke the silence.

Oswin shifted on her chair, trying to rise—but just like him, she couldn’t move.

I tried as well.

It was as if something had glued us to our seats.

I pressed my hands against the table, used all my strength—but I couldn’t move an inch.

A quiet laugh echoed from the doorway.

“Apologies for being late!”

Father stood there, watching us.

Still laughing.

He stepped into the room, kissed Mother—who still hadn’t moved—and sat down in the empty chair.

He had paralyzed us with magic.

“I see there’s been a little accident here, but that’s alright. My dear, sit down. I’ll take care of it.”

Mother obeyed him instantly. She moved unnaturally slowly to her seat and sat down.

My father hadn’t yet mastered the stolen darkness, but when it came to manipulating minds, he was exceptional. He could force us to perform small, precisely calculated actions.

My heart pounded wildly, as if it wanted to burst out of my chest. My palms were sweaty, and dizziness clouded my vision. The pressure of his presence, combined with the suffocating weight of his magic, was unbearable. I wasn’t just paralyzed by his spell—I was frozen by an overwhelming, inescapable fear.

I knew this wouldn’t end well.

None of us could speak.

Father lifted his right hand, and the fallen plate flew into his grasp as if guided by an invisible force. He caught it effortlessly. With another flick of his wrist, the food rose from the dirty floor and returned neatly to the plate.

I smelled the thick presence of magic.

A concealment spell.

It was the same kind I had learned to cast as a child—useful, but I would never have thought to use it on food. It might have looked pristine now, but it was all an illusion. The food hadn’t changed at all—it was merely hidden behind a veil of deception.

Father sent the plate straight to Jelissa.

If looks could kill, he would have died on the spot.

Jelissa glared at him with raw hatred, something not even his magic could suppress.

“Enjoy your meal,” he said coldly, gesturing for her to eat.

No!

I wanted to scream at her not to touch it.

I couldn’t.

I was too weak.

Jelissa fought him with everything she had.

Sweat dripped down her face, veins bulged on her forehead, and her jaw was locked in stubborn resistance.

But it wasn’t enough.

In the end, his magical grip forced her to lift the fork and stab it into the meat.

As she raised the first bite of chicken to her lips, I shut my eyes.

If I watched, I would vomit.

Tears rolled down my sister’s cheeks.

A dreadful silence filled the room, amplifying the sound of her forced swallow.

But it wasn’t over.

He made her lift the fork again.

And again.

She had to finish the entire meal.

Only when she picked up the last piece and put it into her mouth did his magic finally release us.

Ewordie immediately fell under the table, hitting his head against a chair, which crashed to the ground with a loud thud.

No one else had to eat.

“My dear, thank you for the meal. It was excellent!”

Father stood up, kissed Mother once again, and, in an unusually good mood, left the room with a broad smile. A moment later, Mother followed him.

Jelissa gagged.

None of us dared to break the concealment spell.

Certainly not in front of her—she was the only one who had been forced to eat.

She barely managed to stand. Her gaze locked onto the chicken, and she twitched her hand slightly—but I stopped her.

“Don’t do it!” I ordered firmly.

“We’ll kill them. We’ll kill them, Losie. Promise me that we will,” she whispered into my ear, her voice utterly broken.

“Of course,” I replied.

I took her hand and pulled her toward the second floor.

* * *

Jelissa spent the entire night vomiting and feeling sick.

I tried to be there for her, to support her.

For her sake, I came up with various scenarios of how we would get rid of our parents. Of course, they were completely unrealistic plans, but at least they gave her hope.

Early in the morning, I got dressed, checked to make sure she was still breathing, and was the first to go downstairs.

I had to see the food.

The concealment spell had surely worn off by now.

The stench on the ground floor was overwhelming.

Slowly, I forced myself to approach the table.

At first, I watched from a distance, and even with just my sharp eyesight, I could already tell that yesterday’s meal had been a complete disaster. A nightmare I had no stomach for.

The smell didn’t just come from the corpse—it came from the table as well.

Finally, I could see what Mother had truly served us.

Without the magical enhancements, only the disgusting reality remained. White maggots crawled out of the strange, dark gray meat.

My stomach churned, and nausea hit me hard. I had to clench my fists tightly to keep myself from throwing up right onto the carpet.

Tears welled up in my eyes, and my legs trembled.

And yet, I stepped toward the table.

I was doing this for Jelissa. I couldn’t just leave it there. She couldn’t see this.

I wiped my tears against the sleeve of my dress and stepped in front of the massive fireplace. I threw in wood, paper, and hay. With a single snap of my fingers, I summoned a spark and cast it onto the pile. The flames erupted so quickly that I had to step back to avoid setting myself on fire. I had probably overdone it with the magic.

I grabbed the serving tray from the table. Now that I looked at it properly, I noticed how rusty and unusable it actually was. It seemed more suitable for garbage than for food. The worms crawling out of it nearly made their way onto my hands. As for the side dish? I had no idea what that slimy mess was. It looked as if someone had taken scraps from the trash, soaked them in water, and boiled them.

Before anyone could see me, I quickly flipped the tray, dumping the entire meal into the fire. The food crackled as it burned, sending a few stray sparks onto the carpet, but my magic ensured that not a single trace of that abomination remained.

I took a deep breath and wiped my mouth.

We couldn’t stay here.

They could poison us or beat us to death at any moment.

The hope that things would ever get better was long gone.

No one was coming to help us.

No one would even remember we existed.

They didn’t know we were here.

Who would punish Father when his hand eventually slipped too far?

In the end, even our bodies would be left to rot in the great hall.

“Did you enjoy the show, Losiela?”

Father’s voice.

I had no idea where it was coming from.

I spun around quickly, but I couldn’t see him anywhere.

As if he was hiding in the shadows, delighting in my despair.

I tried to pierce the darkness with my gaze, but in this cursed house, there were far too many places to hide. Checking them all was impossible. He had lived here far longer than I had, which meant he had every advantage on his side.

“Get rid of the other stinking thing as well,” he commanded.

His voice came from behind the curtain to my left.

But it hadn’t lasted long enough for me to be sure that he was really there.

“Forget it,” I blurted out.

It was easy to be brave when I didn’t have to face him directly.

Behind me, slow clapping broke the silence, followed by a ragged, eerie laugh.

I spun around so fast I had to brace myself against the wall to keep from losing balance.

A fireplace poker lay at my feet.

If he moved even slightly, I could grab it.

And then—

He was standing right in the center of the hall.

Right above the half-decayed corpse.

The light from the open doors and windows illuminated his figure.

He wore a cloak, his boots were caked with mud, and his hair was disheveled.

That youthful smile on his eternally young face filled me with pure terror.

Fear sliced through my heart like sharp blades.

It paralyzed me.

For a moment, I thought my father could read my thoughts.

He knew I was planning to escape.

He knew I wanted to take my siblings with me.

“Get rid of it, or we’ll go for a little flight together. You know only one of us would make it back home. You don’t want your siblings crying over you, do you?” he threatened, chuckling as if he found it amusing.

He would do it.

He had taken me on his brutal outings before—outings that always ended in disaster for me.

I had barely survived each one.

Once, he let go of me from a terrifying height and watched coldly as I plummeted helplessly toward the ground.

I would give anything—my entire soul.

I would do anything the devil himself demanded of me.

I would sacrifice my own life, seal my fate in eternal fire, and accept any punishment the Highest Angel had prepared for me.

If only he would fall to the ground, dead and powerless.

If only I could stand over him, scream that I had won, and know he could never hurt me or them again.

I counted my breaths and didn’t move from my spot.

Suddenly, I longed for a compromise.

If I couldn’t have his death, then let some higher force at least force him to leave.

I craved solitude.

I had no intention of moving toward him while he stood there, mocking me.

I didn’t have that kind of courage.

It seemed that the divine angel Prophetam had taken pity on me.

Father smirked one last time, adjusted his cloak, and turned his back to me.

He began to hum a tune.

I didn’t recognize the words, but I was grateful for them.

The melody allowed me to listen carefully, waiting for the right moment to move and take his place in the hall.

I didn’t dare disobey him.

He had ordered me to remove the corpse, and the price for defiance would be too high.

He had already forced me to lie on it once, and I had no intention of experiencing that again.

The stench was unbearable.

I wish I were the one rotting here, I thought.

The books I had read spoke of life as sacred and irreplaceable. They said we should cherish it. That one day, everything would get better, and we would find joy.

But I didn’t feel like I was truly living. No… I would call this mere existence.

Sometimes, death is the only salvation.