The day started out as usual. The children were fed warm meals in front of the stove, such as humble porridge and marmalade-filled apples. Once the sticky mess had been gulped down, the Marshal would come and fetch the two oldest siblings: Peres and Janet. They were to be escorted safely over to the co-owners of the family’s mining business: The Irondanes, for some tutoring.

As for the now 2-year-old Cassandra? She was left in the lax care of Alis… Their time spent together was fun alright, but on a toddler’s educational level. Even though Cassandra really yearned to understand her new homeworld better, any of her attempts to do so were quickly thwarted. If she leaned out a window, Alis would be there to heave her in, and if she touched a book that wasn’t meant for children, Alis would be there to snatch it away.

After a few mouthfuls of porridge, Cassandra accompanined Alis to her room. The teenager held onto a sealed letter as they walked up the stairs, feeling all giddy and thrilled by its presence. It was only at the staircase’s final step that Alis remembered to look back and check whether Cassandra had managed to follow along or not. As the child overcame hurdles normal people would refer to as stairs, the teenager watched on with itchy feet, feeling mildly irritated.

Once close enough to the vicinity of her personal chamber, Alis announced to Cassandra that, “Today, we’ll be practicing the art of make-up!”

The toddler didn’t respond with glee initially, but as soon as she imagined how the lipstick would run rampant, and how the eyeshadow would be generously applied, she grinned and said, “Okay!” There was definitely joy to be had in the chaos, and perhaps a smidgen of beauty too?

Both girls laughed at Cassandra’s mischievous look, then Alis professed, “But first, I got to read this letter. Next door… But, I know how clever you are Cassandra. So, while I’m busy reading, I want you to brush your hair and wait for me patiently. Okay?”

Cassandra looked with interest at the letter and responded with an upset, “Okay...” She felt hurt because Alis still didn’t trust her enough to disclose who the message was from, nor what the juicy scribbles were about. It wasn’t even Alis’ first secret message. It was her third, and she always read them out of sight!

With a soft click, Alis opened up the other’s holding cell, then spoke the usual words of secrecy, “And remember. Nobody can know about this.” Cassandra sighed and went inside the stale room. A key scraped against metal and the door was locked. Alis really didn’t trust Cassandra when it came to her letters. She wondered why.

With no one around to judge her, Cassandra crossed her arms and muttered, “Next time, I won’t take no for an answer, Alis. I swear I’ll pester it out of you one day!” And then, like an evil villainess she tired herself out laughing. She ended up lying on the floor out of breath, feeling restless and empty. Asking herself, “Why am I like this? I think I might be going crazy… You hear that Maya? I think your punishment is working. It won’t be long before I die from boredom.”

With the elegance of a toddler, Cassandra went up to stand in front of Alis’ small mirror. She ran a comb through her measly hair, the inherited color of red. It was as vibrant as a bundle of autumn leaves. Deep as dark honey. There wasn’t much of it. In fact, there wasn’t enough of it! Cassandra smashed the comb she was holding down onto the floor in frustration. She was getting sick and tired of waiting on Alis, who was taking forever, indulging in her own little secrets. It made Cassandra flip out and do other things, such as mischievously bounce on said teenager’s bed.

It was all fun and games until one of the boards moaned loudly, then snapped in two. The crisp wake-up call made Cassandra halt her acrobatics and stumble down the sheets. As her knees met the floor, the door into the room was unlocked and in came the Marshal. A man of formal posture and dark eyes that would shine an eerie grey if confronted with sunlight.

Discovering that it was a serious adult that had come in, Cassandra was close to having a heart attack. She clumsily stood up and did everything in her power not to look at the damaged furniture. Truly afraid of the punishment it might incur. The Marshal remained close to the exit. He stared intently at her but didn’t speak a word.

The torturous silence was prolonged when the Marshal decided to scan Alis’ room. His stern gaze only stopped once he could profess that the babysitter was absent. “Where is Alis?” he asked.

Cassandra felt threatened by the stonecold man’s exterior and so she remained unwillingly mute. Not getting a response from the child suited the Marshal just fine. He confirmed aloud, “It doesn’t really matter anyway,” before he reached out for Cassandra’s being.

Naturally the little creature avoided him not knowing his purpose, and frankly he didn’t come off as the nicest person. When the girl evidently cornered herself like a mouse, it dawned on the Marshal that he had to explain himself. “I’m not going to hurt you. I came so that you and your grandfather can finally meet each other. Sounds good? Then come with me.”

Cassandra couldn’t care less about her ‘grandfather.’ Alas, she wasn’t really allowed to make the choice…

She was crudely picked up by the Marshal on his right arm and carried outside. As it was her first time breathing in fresh air, she was easily distracted, and gradually oblivious to her own location. It was her inner photographer that told her to examine everything like the beautiful reflected light it was. They went beneath two archways made of pebble stones, each at the ends of a long winding pathway full of pink camellia bushes. Their path was strewn with its petals, rotting and sweet smelling. Once out of the second archway’s cool shadow they emerged at their designated spot: A garden.

The garden was a peaceful place organised and riddled with common lifeforms in each of its corners. There were giant hanging trees with fluttering leaves of silver, white birches that reached for the skies. And up the walls of a crumbling hut crawled the vines of a blue-belled flower. All of this, not far away from a lake buzzing with mutated dragonflies.

As the visitors drew closer, Cassandra spotted an old man smoking a pipe. He sat at the lake’s mellow banks right next to a… Genosaur!? The word exploded inside of her head and drenched her tongue with excitement and fear.

The fantastical creature nested by the man’s feet like any other household pet would. It was a blend between a feathered komodo dragon and a cat. Its two legs in front had the ability to grip and act as claws, while the hind legs were meant for sitting and sprinting. Its size was that of a medium horse, and it had a tail that spanned almost two meters long behind it, tipped with a fluff-full of colorful feathers.

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There was no doubt about it. The world Cassandra had been born into was a work of fiction come to life. As for whose fiction? Well, of course it was that hateful Maya’s! But now another question arose: Why had Cassandra been flung into this world to begin with? Was it to punish her, like she’d thought? Perhaps for ridiculing the book's writing and characters? Or was Cassandra somehow supposed to fix it as a mob character!? She trembled in fury at how preposterous that would be! If anything, that useless Maya should fix her own story! The only thing Cassandra wanted to grant her was some advice. Nothing else!

Cassandra wanted to desperately believe that her existence was free and void of any twisted destinies. Alas, there was probably an uncomfortable revelation waiting for her in the future. But for now she could confirm that her involvement in the plot was nonexistent, for she had yet to meet any of the book’s characters. Those of worthy note.

As Cassandra nibbled on the hard questions of life, the Marshal reached the old man’s side. The smoking gentleman rocked a beard the same color as the white clouds he was puffing from his pipe. His whimsical eyes gleamed a sweetened brown, and they were parted by a straight mountainline of cartilage clad in weathered skin. On his body he wore a misty green viking kaftan, bespotted with blood red blooms.

The Marshal immediately knelt when their eyes met, settling the child before his master in the process. Once the kid had gained control of their inept feet, the Marshal began to spout, “I present to you, my lord. Your youngest granddaughter: Cassandra. She may not stick around, but I believed it wrong to exclude you from such details, no matter how minor they may seem." The Marshal's streamline face grew a wrinkle and he exhaled. "And… Pardon my rudeness but I cannot forgive Lady Dray for omitting you like this… You're the eldest male in your family. It should have been you handling the affairs of the family in Varon Dray’s stead. Not that-. Woman… If-”

The old Varon puffed at the pipe’s lip and coughed, “Oh hush, Daniel! You’re such a worrywart, leaving your teragon with an old bear like me? I’ve told you many times that Cristine has been specifically trained by Hammond to help him with his business. This old man doesn't know the first thing about metia crystals or mines. So don’t bother me with such discrepancies. I’m nothing more but an elderly merchant, wasting his time away here in peace.”

“In a place far beyond, out of my protection's reach. And in a shabby hut? You call that gratitude? If anything, they should grant you a room befitting your title, like they've done to that Alis, and the-”

“Who was this little lady again?” the Varon asked, totally indifferent to the Marshal’s woes.

Frustrated, the man zipped his mouth and stared into the ground. “Your grandchild: Cassandra,” he repeated.

The elderly fellow chortled and clapped Cassandra on the head. “Oh yes. Wittle Cassandra… What are you doing out here, my little hare? Are you lost?”

Being addressed like this, Cassandra didn’t know how to respond. Her reply came off as shy and disoriented. “I-. to meet you?”

The old Varon’s eyes and lips took on the shape of crescent moons when he gaily suggested, “How about you sit and fish some with grandpa? My itsy Peres’ not around. And this white-haired bear can get so lonely at times… Come on! Come on up to grandpa, and I’ll show you how it’s done!”

Cassandra felt struck by unknown yearning and tempted to play along as the innocent child she appeared to be. It really wasn’t a hard choice between fishing with an awesome grandpa vs playing dress-up with a teenage girl, however… She glanced back at Daniel and muttered, “But?... What about Alis?”

The Marshal kept a neutral frown on his face. “She’ll know not to worry… For now you can stay with the Varon... And fish… I’ll be back in the afternoon with your siblings.” The man shot up straight and proper like a spear, then he bowed to his master and left with heavy shoulders and a route to inspect.

Ten seconds passed as they watched the Marshal leave. When he was about to slip past a corner, the old Varon suddenly yelled, “Wait! Daniel! You left the girl!... Oh… Darn!”

Cassandra looked confused at the man, who reflected an identical expression back at her. Embarrassed, he scratched the back of his head, then sucked on his pipe. “I’m sorry little one. Daniel usually isn’t so brash… I’m sure he’ll be back for you any second now... Any second now…”

An uneasy brow lifted itself upon the toddler’s forehead. Noticing their doubt, the Varon took to slamming his own head with the back of his wrist, lamenting, “Oh darn it! You old fool!... You’re one of my grandchildren aren’t you?... Erh… Uh… My memory isn’t as efficient anymore. I sometimes get these blanks, you know?… I… Your name, please?... Was it Janet, little one?... Or?”

Cassandra unconsciously backed away from the rambling mess of a man, and out of pity, she repeated her name once more. “It’s Cassandra.”

Receiving the name again was like a bell ringing in the Varon’s ears. He quickly regained his former confidence. “Ah, yes. Cassandra. I promised you that we should fish, yes? Come on up. Although the fishies bite, I certainly won’t, hoho!” The child hesitated, but seeing as the interaction would not only bring them closer to a relative, but also the genosaur as well. It was an offer she simply couldn’t resist.

In the afternoon the pair had grown quite comfortable with each other. Cassandra not only helped reel in a brutish trout, but also assisted the Varon in binding another worm onto his fishing hook. The old geezer appreciated this greatly as his hands had grown too callous and stiff for the task.

They both pulled on the fishing rod and with a bump they saw another humble trout come flying through the air, leaving behind it a dazzling rain of water droplets that sparkled a multitude of colors. The fish flopped around on the Varon’s string. It was a lively motion that managed to attract the attention of an otherwise apathetic genosaur. The lazy guardian lifted its head and flitted a tongue across its mouth, hoping for a bite once the human’s had had their fill.

The old Varon was ripe with knowledge on how to prepare fish the most succulent of ways. And to accomplish this, he would need nothing more but some citrus fruit, fire, and salt. The fishes were prepared in a flashy manner, then hung near the campfire and from there, they sputtered with hot juices as their captors watched on hungrily.

These captors were just about to savor their well-earned meal, when a certain brother came riding in through the archways upon another genosaur. His was a witchagon. A mixed breed that resembled that of a large teragon with wings.

Cassandra dropped a piece of white flesh from her fingers now that all of her attention had gone to the approaching rider. She was astonished by the fact that Peres might be the owner of such a splendid witchagon. They may even be bonded, which would explain why her brother looked so fit for his age. But somehow amongst all of the amazement Cassandra also felt cheated. How come she had never seen this genosaur before!? Was it perhaps not allowed inside as it would claw up the whole manor? Did it not know how to use a litter box correctly?

Peres was still lacking when it came to riding, so his attempt at fluently jumping off the beast didn’t turn out exactly as he had planned. He crudely stumbled, but brushed it off with a grin directed towards the Varon. “Hail, grandpa! Doing some fishing are we? With my little sist-” Peres wandered off mid-sentence as the sight of his sibling caused him great displeasure.

“Ah yes… We caught a grandiose trout! Hoho, it was quite fun. As you can see we’re just about to eat the poor fellows. Wan’ a bite, my boy?”

Peres thought about how that meat was the fruit of another’s labor, not to mention; fun collaboration with his grandfather. The idea didn’t need long to fester before it sprouted a sour wince on his face, not easily disguised. Peres ignored the offer with a chilled expression and instead, he hugged his grandpa. It became a tight embrace to clearly state before his sister that she should find joy in her own babysitter. Not in his!

Cassandra watched as the pair discussed the solutions to a rat-problem. She got Peres’ message loud and clear, she did however, refuse to back down. That kind sir was just as much her grandfather as he was Peres’. And who was to say that Peres could take ownership of the old Varon? A living human being? What utter nonsense!

The toddler ate half of her fish and gifted the rest to the wingless teragon. Once she was done eating, Peres took the opportunity to separate the company with hopes that the 2-year-old girl would forget about the old Varon in time, and vice versa. It was a move clearly seen through by all, Cassandra, however, didn’t resist Peres’ assistance. For although being outside was a nice change of pace, she had been dropped off wearing nothing but a flimsy white shift and shoes that were solely meant for indoors use. Hence, being escorted inside really wasn’t that big of a deal. Especially not when she was allowed the pleasure of riding on Peres’ witchagon! Of course not alone, but in the company of her brother, the owner.

Feeling more than a bit eager, Cassandra was assisted on top of the creature’s back, and from there she could finally experience the true wonder of fiction. No longer was it mere words or something akin to an illusion prancing infront of her. It was real. And she could clearly feel it. She could feel the witchagon’s feathery pelt, slick and soft, and its muscles underneath that were as tough and powerful as steel. As well as its heart that beated deep and strong, invigorating to all who could feel its powerful thumps.

The second they took off, the rush of wind and marvelous feeling of riding on a genosaur made Cassandra’s heart sing with joy. Its glee traveled all the way from her lungs up through her throat into a high-pitched fan-girling shriek. Peres felt the need to shield his ears. This only made Cassandra smirk some more. Her heart was now fertile, in perfect condition for the lowly seeds of envy to sow themselves. And that they did. Who wouldn’t want a genosaur for a pet?