In Allverton, a place destined to weave their lives into the tapestry of the unknown, Eleanor and Nathaniel would face challenges and discoveries that would shape their destinies and test the bonds that held them together. And as they stepped off the carriage, the echoes of their past mingling with the promise of the future, they took their first steps into a realm where their journey would truly begin.
“Welcome! Behold the establishment of my enterprise. Let us attire you in the most exquisite garments befitting you”.
The clothing store featured a central structure, flanked on each side by expansive display windows that added a touch of sophistication. Prior to reaching the front entrance, an overhang extended graciously. Adorned with archways on every side—left, right, and front— the overhang was supported by four substantial columns creating a welcoming aura. The ones at the forefront commanded attention due to their robust stature. Notably, two columns at the rear, situated adjacent to the entrance, exuded a subtle elegance. At the foundation, the building sat atop a set of stairs, offering an elevated entrance that added to its overall charm.
Upon entering the clothing store, the focal point is a display of mannequins showcasing the latest garments. There are no pre-made clothes openly arranged; instead, the curated collection is artfully presented. To the left and right sides, inviting doors lead to separate dressing rooms, providing a private space for customers to explore the offerings. Venturing further into the store unveils a spatial dynamic enhanced by two sets of staircases strategically placed at the back. Ascending these staircases on the right and left sides grants access to the second level, where patrons can gaze below to the lower floor and, conversely, those on the ground floor can appreciate a view of the upper level. This architectural arrangement forms a captivating overpass and ceiling effect, contributing to the unique ambiance of the store.
Merchant Miles ushered Eleanor and Nathaniel into a lavishly appointed dressing room intended for a pair of guests. As they settled onto the plush couch, catalogues were presented—one for the Men's section and another for the Women's section. The spaciousness of the dressing room, akin to a lounge, surprised both siblings. In contrast to the cramped, claustrophobic dressing rooms of Earth, this one felt expansive. Excusing himself, Merchant Miles granted the siblings the freedom to peruse the catalogues at their leisure. As Eleanor hesitantly picked up the book, memories of Earth flooded her mind, particularly the Victorian era. Soltera's ambiance seemed to evoke that bygone time, causing a moment of uncertainty about the attire she might choose.
Upon perusing the catalogue, Eleanor was pleasantly surprised to find a delightful fusion of modern and vintage dresses. As she continued leafing through the pages, the array of choices left her indecisive about which outfit to select.
If Nathaniel were to erase all other knowledge about his sister, one thing remained ingrained in his memory—her deep-seated love for shopping. He leaned in to whisper a gentle reminder to Eleanor. Cautioning her to choose wisely, he emphasized the need to maintain a low profile and avoid drawing unnecessary attention. The siblings, amidst the array of stylish options, had to navigate the balance between fashion and discretion.
Opting for simplicity, Nathaniel settled on an ensemble featuring a simple dark brown shirt. Its high collar snug against his neck, peeked out from under a worn, light brown sweater vest that cut off neatly at the waist. The sleeves of the shirt were rolled up. Cream-colored suspenders stretched over his shoulders; their straps taut against his chest as they held up a pair of high-waisted, beige trouser pants that clung comfortably to his frame. As he emerged donned in his new attire, Eleanor, who had taken her time deciding, settled on a dress that featured a fitted black bodice. With a sweetheart neckline, it was adorned with sunflower-shaped embellishments at the shoulder straps. Off-the-shoulder sleeves, made from a soft brown fabric, puffed slightly before tapering into scalloped edges trimmed with cream accents. A large green and cream ribbon was tied neatly at the upper waist, and its long ends falling over the beige skirt. The skirt itself flared gently, stopping just above the knees, its simple design contrasting the more detailed upper half of the outfit. The combination of earthy tones and floral accents gave the dress a natural, graceful charm. When Eleanor and Nathaniel both had their attire on, merchant miles came over with two bags of coins.
“Very well, here you have it,” Miles said, handing over two small pouches. “Each contains 2 gold coins, 10 silver coins, and 20 copper coins. A fair exchange for your garments, wouldn’t you agree?”
Nathaniel exchanged a glance with Eleanor before asking cautiously, “I’m sorry, but could you explain how much this is worth? We’re not exactly familiar with the currency here.”
Miles nodded, his expression patient. “Of course. Allow me to elaborate. Fifty copper coins equal one silver coin, and twenty silver coins are equivalent to a single gold coin. Furthermore, ten gold coins combine to make one platinum coin. To offer some perspective, a toothbrush may cost anywhere from one to four copper coins, depending on the establishment and craftsmanship. With your total amount, you could procure somewhere between one thousand to four thousand toothbrushes.”
Eleanor blinked, clearly startled by the scale of the conversion. “Um, not to be rude, but are you sure our clothes are worth that much?”
Miles’s eyes sparkled with a mixture of amusement and admiration. “Indeed, my dear. I must admit, I have never encountered designs quite like these before. They’re unlike anything I’ve seen in this world—truly one of a kind. It’s clear they were crafted with remarkable creativity and skill.”
As Eleanor and Miles conversed, Nathaniel’s thoughts drifted. His mind raced to do the math, piecing together what Miles had explained.
“Back on Earth, a toothbrush was about $1. If one copper coin equals $1, then a silver coin is $50, a gold coin is $1,000, and a platinum coin is $10,000. That means... we just made $4,264 from selling our clothes!?”
Nathaniel's head snapped up. Eleanor, noticing his look, nudged him lightly. “Nathan, you good?”
He blinked, snapping out of his thoughts. “Yeah, just... doing the math. Let’s just say we got a pretty good deal.”
He couldn't believe the offer on the table, knowing full well their attire wasn't worth nearly as much. Despite their reservations, Merchant Miles remained steadfast, insisting on the value of their clothes. Reluctantly, yet gratefully, Eleanor and Nathaniel accepted the payment. With the transaction settled, they wasted no time in deciding to use the newfound funds to acquire a new wardrobe with a few additional outfits and essentials. After they finished getting what they needed, Merchant Miles escorted them outside to bid them farewell.
“Nathaniel, Eleanor, before you depart, I insist you take this,” Miles said, extending a sealed envelope.
“What is it?” Eleanor asked, tilting her head curiously.
“I’ve taken the liberty of preparing a letter of recommendation,” Miles explained smoothly.
“A dear associate of mine is currently seeking to fill a few domestic roles. Considering the challenges young newcomers like yourselves might face in an unfamiliar town, I thought gainful employment could provide both stability and opportunity.”
Eleanor hesitated, glancing at Nathaniel. “Miles... are you sure we can accept this?”
“Without a doubt,” Miles replied warmly. “My father often taught me the value of extending kindness without expecting anything in return. He believed that such acts, even small ones, often come full circle when least expected. I have lived by that creed, and I must say, it has rarely failed me.”
“He sounds like a good man,” Eleanor said softly.
“Thank you for everything you’ve done for us. It means a lot,” Nathaniel added, his tone sincere. “If we hadn’t met you, we’d probably still be wandering—or completely lost.”
Miles smiled, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Think nothing of it. It is my pleasure to assist.”
Eleanor perked up with another question. “Before we go, could you recommend a place to stay for a few days?”
“But of course,” Miles said, his voice thoughtful as he stroked his chin. “Let me think... Ah, yes. There is the Opulence Inn, not far from here—a reliable choice and quite comfortable. However, if you’re seeking exceptional cuisine, the Atlantis Inn would be my recommendation. Their food is simply to die for, though it’s a bit further away.”
Merchant miles went and came back with the map for Eleanor and Nathaniel.
“Allow me to mark the locations for you. Since you’re new to the area, this should help you navigate.”
He wished them the best of luck on their journey in life and to come back and visit him one day. Eleanor thanked Merchant Miles and told him they will never forget his generosity as the late afternoon sun began its descent towards the horizon. It casted a warm, golden glow over the land. Eleanor and Nathaniel began walking towards the horizon bidding farewell to Merchant Miles. The sky was a canvas of soft pastel hues, streaks of pink and orange blending seamlessly with the deepening blue. The gentle breeze carried the scent of wildflowers, mingling with the distant sound of buzzing cicadas. As they spoke their final thank you and goodbyes to Merchant Miles, the horizon seemed to stretch out endlessly before them, promising new adventures and unknown challenges on the road ahead.
By night fall Eleanor and Nathaniel had reached their destination, the Atlantice Inn. Located on the other side of town from where Merchant Miles was located. The Atlantice Inn exuded a welcoming atmosphere from the moment Eleanor and Nathaniel stepped through its doors. The ground floor housed a vibrant restaurant and bar, where the air was filled with the tantalizing aroma of freshly prepared meals and the sound of cheerful chatter. Warm, earthy tones adorned the walls, creating a cozy ambiance that invited guests to unwind and relax. Upstairs, the inn offered a series of comfortable rooms, each adorned with simple yet comfortable furnishings. Travelers were welcomed to stay the night and indulge in the inn's hospitality for as long as they desired, provided they paid the requisite fee. Whether seeking respite from the road or simply looking for a place to call home for the night, the Atlantice Inn offered a warm embrace to all who came in.
After observing the interior of the inn, Nathaniel started to walk towards the bar where a heavy-set woman with curly brown hair and purple eyes was wiping down the counter. Before he gets to the bar, he passes three rows of tables where four tables were in each row on both his left and right side. Eleanor was following behind him. Eleanor and Nathaniel get to the lady at the bar. She noticed their presence and began talking to them.
“Evenin’, folks! I’m Betty, proprietress of this fine place. What can I do for y’all tonight?” she greeted warmly, her accent rich and inviting.
“Hello,” Nathaniel began, his tone polite but straightforward. “How much is it for a room with two beds?”
Betty tilted her head, considering. “How long y’all plannin’ on stayin’?”
Nathaniel glanced at Eleanor, his eyes silently asking for her input. Eleanor hesitated, unsure herself, but finally spoke up. “We’ll probably be here for a while, but we’re not exactly sure how long yet.”
Betty gave a faint smile, her voice kind. “Alrighty then, I’ll go ahead and set y’all up for two weeks. If ya need to stay longer, just holler, and we’ll get it sorted. Ya only pay for what ya use—leave early, and I’ll give ya back the coins for the days ya don’t stay. Now, food’s available whether ya wanna eat down here or take it up to yer room, but the meals are paid for separate, alright?”
“How much for the two weeks?” Nathaniel asked, his tone measured.
“That’ll run ya 3 silver and 25 copper,” Betty replied, nodding toward them. “Fair deal, don’t ya think?”
Nathaniel exchanged a brief glance with Eleanor before replying, “Sounds good to me.”
“Great!” Betty said, her smile widening. “Y’all just let me know if ya need anything else. Welcome to the best inn this side of town.”
Nathaniel gave Betty the payment and followed her as she showed them to their room. Before leaving, Betty smiled and said, "If y’all need anything, don't hesitate to holler." Eleanor quickly dropped her bags and made a beeline for the bathroom. After two days of rinsing off in a cold stream, she was desperate for the comfort of a warm shower.
Inside, Eleanor eagerly turned the faucet--nothing happened. Her frown deepened as she tried the other fixtures: the sink, the toilet--none of them worked. “Seriously?” she muttered, rubbing her temples in frustration. She didn’t just hate that the bathroom wasn’t working; she hated the reminder of how little she understood about this world and how helpless it made her feel.
After another round of futile knob-turning, she let out a frustrated sigh and called out, “Nathan! Can you come here?”
Nathaniel, who had been quietly unpacking, appeared at the doorway. His tone was calm but curious. “What’s wrong?”
“The water,” she said, stepping aside and gesturing toward the faucet. “It’s not turning on, no matter what I do.”
Nathaniel stepped in; his movements measured as he inspected the fixtures. His fingers brushed over the knobs with care, his brow furrowing as he noticed something she hadn’t. “It’s probably magic,” he murmured, studying the faint symbols etched near the faucet. “I think you’re supposed to pour mana into it.”
Eleanor leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms. “I didn’t notice any symbols.”
Nathaniel glanced back at her, his tone shifting to something gentler. “You just didn’t look close enough.” His expression softened as he continued, “Grandad… he didn’t tell you much about this, did he? About how magic works with stuff like this?”
Eleanor’s gaze dropped, and her voice grew quieter. “No. He... he only taught me about light magic, and even then...” She trailed off, her fingers tightening around her arms. “I should’ve paid more attention, but I just kept pushing him away.”
Nathaniel’s jaw tightened, and he looked down, his voice low. “I guess I should’ve tried harder, too. Maybe if I had...”
The silence that followed was thick with unspoken regrets and the rawness of loss. Eleanor shifted uncomfortably, the weight of the moment pressing down on her.
“Well,” Nathaniel said finally, clearing his throat and breaking the tension. “We’ll have to figure it out if we’re going to make it here.” He placed his hand on the faucet, closed his eyes, and focused. A faint glow pulsed from his palm into the knob, and with a sputter, water burst to life.
“There,” he said softly, stepping back. “Just... be careful. You don’t want to scald yourself.”
“Thanks,” Eleanor muttered, glancing at the now-running water. She lingered for a second, as though on the verge of saying something more, but the words stayed caught in her throat. Nathaniel waited, watching her, but when she turned toward the shower without speaking, he quietly left her to the solitude.
After her shower, Nathaniel took his turn. When he stepped out, dressed and ready, he offered her a tentative smile. “Ready to get something to eat?”
“Yeah, I guess,” Eleanor replied, her tone distant.
They walked downstairs together, the tension still hanging in the air between them. Nathaniel was trying, but the wall between them--the one built from years of pain and misunderstanding--was still there. And neither of them quite knew how to break it down.
As Nathaniel and Eleanor descended the creaky wooden staircase, the lively hum of the tavern below greeted them. The scent of roasting meat, fresh bread, and spiced ale wafted through the air, blending with the earthy smell of burning wood from the large hearth that sat in the center of the room. A trio of musicians played a jaunty tune in the corner--a lute, a flute, and a hand drum adding to the warm and energetic atmosphere.
The inn was alive with people. Adventurers, with their gear still strapped to their backs, boasted loudly of their latest conquests. Locals, hunched over mugs of frothy ale, exchanged laughter and gossip, while weary travelers huddled at corner tables, quietly discussing their journeys. The air buzzed with conversation, clinking dishes, and the occasional burst of laughter.
Eleanor and Nathaniel approached the bar, where Betty, the innkeeper, greeted them with her familiar, warm smile. Her hair was tied back in a loose bun, and her apron bore the evidence of a long and busy evening, stained with splatters of food and drink.
“Well, look who’s back! Y’all ready to fill those stomachs?” she asked with a hint of pride in her voice.
Nathaniel glanced around; a bit overwhelmed by the sheer energy of the room but nodded. “Yeah, we’re starving. What’s on the menu?”
Betty handed them each a well-worn menu, its edges frayed from years of use. “Here ya go.”
Eleanor and Nathaniel studied the menu in confusion. The dishes listed were nothing like what they were used to--names like “Smoked Pulse Dachshund” and “Charred Thunder Drake Tail” leapt off the page, foreign and strange. They exchanged nervous glances.
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Leaning closer to Nathaniel, Eleanor whispered, “I’ve never heard of these foods before. I have no idea what any of this stuff is.”
Nathaniel nodded, his eyes scanning the odd descriptions. “We should wait for Betty to come back and ask her about it.”
Eleanor frowned, shaking her head. “No, we’d sound rude. Or worse--suspicious. We can’t act like we don’t know the local food.”
Nathaniel raised an eyebrow. “Then what do you suggest?”
Before Eleanor could respond, Betty returned, wiping her hands on her apron. “Have y’all made up your minds yet?”
Thinking quickly, Eleanor flashed a polite smile. “Betty, just in time! Everything sounds so good on the menu that we’re having a hard time deciding. Could you give us some recommendations?”
Betty beamed with pride. “Absolutely! I’d recommend the fire-roasted enchanted emu, the deep-fried flame impala, or the baked fire stingray. Those are the chef’s specials tonight, and I reckon you won’t find anything better in all of Sheffield.”
Eleanor let out a small sigh of relief. “I’ll have the Fire-Roasted Enchanted Emu, please.” Nathaniel followed suit. “I’ll try the Deep-Fried Flame Impala.” Betty jotted down their order with a friendly nod. “Great choices! Yer order’s number six. We’ll get it out to ya soon as it’s ready.”
Eleanor shrugged; her expression distant. “When you’ve had friends like mine, you pick up a thing or two.”
Nathaniel was about to ask her more, but their conversation was cut short by a loud voice from the table next to them. Two men sat huddled over mugs of ale. The first man, older with a thick beard and a gruff, weathered look, spoke with a low voice that carried across the room. His clothes were worn and travel-stained, his skin tanned from long days under the sun.
“Did you read the newspaper?” the older man asked, his voice a deep rumble. “All the founding noble families have their sacred progeny, except the Éclairs.”
The younger man sitting across from him, lean and sharp-eyed with a long scar running down his cheek, shook his head. “Naah, I’ve been running around for work. But for real? You don’t think they’re being punished by the gods, do you?”
“With how they are? Wouldn’t be surprised,” the older man muttered, taking a deep swig of ale.
Intrigued, Nathaniel leaned over. “Excuse me,” he said cautiously. “I couldn’t help overhearing—who are the Éclair family?”
The younger man raised an eyebrow, his sharp gaze assessing Nathaniel. “You from another world or something? How do you not know the founding families?”
Nathaniel laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of his head. “We, uh... we’re not from this country.”
The older man grunted; his thick arms crossed over his chest. “The Éclairs are one of the seven noble founding families,” he explained, his voice low. “Blessed by the gods and goddesses to save our world from Argus. That bastard fled from the heavens, spreading chaos, monsters, plagues, wars. The seven blessed warriors came together to unite their powers and create order, making an alliance with other nations. The Éclairs? They’re known for their strong light magic. But word is... they’ve fallen from grace. No new blessing from the gods this time around. And with all the chaos stirring up again, people say it’s a bad sign.”
Eleanor and Nathaniel exchanged a glance, the weight of the new information heavy between them. The Éclair family, light magic, and the suggestion of divine punishment—it was all more than they had bargained for when they entered the tavern. At least that was the case for Nathaniel. Just then, Betty returned, balancing two steaming plates in her hands. “Order number six, here’s your meal!” she said cheerfully.
Nathaniel thanked her before turning back to the men. “Thanks for sharing that with us. Sorry for interrupting your meal.”
The men gave a brief nod and returned to their drinks, leaving Nathaniel and Eleanor alone with their plates. The tavern’s lively atmosphere seemed to recede into the background, replaced by the weight of the conversation about the Éclair family, which hung over them like a storm cloud.
Eleanor picked up her fork, eyeing the Fire-Roasted Enchanted Emu with suspicion. The dark, smoky aroma wafting from the dish was enticing, but the name alone made her cautious. Nathaniel mirrored her hesitation as he poked at the golden-brown fillet of the Deep-Fried Flame Impala.
“Well,” Eleanor murmured, “I guess we’ll find out what enchanted emu tastes like.”
“Only one way to know,” Nathaniel replied, his tone wary but edged with curiosity.
They each took a tentative bite, their expressions shifting as the flavors hit their tongues. Nathaniel paused mid-chew, his brows furrowing. “This... this is just fish,” he said, his tone laced with disbelief.
Eleanor blinked, her jaw still working on the tender meat. “And this is deer. Fire-roasted deer.” She set down her fork, staring at the plate as if it had betrayed her. “Enchanted emu, my ass.”
Nathaniel stifled a laugh, though a grin broke through despite the heavy air between them. “Deep-Fried Flame Impala. A fancy name for fish.” He shook his head, taking another bite with slightly more confidence. “They got us with the names.”
Eleanor glanced at her plate again, then at Nathaniel’s. Her brow furrowed as she thought it through. “You know... maybe the names of animals here aren’t the same as back home. ‘Emu’ might just be a deer like animal in Soltera. And ‘impala’ could just be a type of fish.”
Nathaniel raised an eyebrow. “That makes sense. After all, we are in a completely different world.” He smirked slightly, gesturing toward her plate. “Still, I wouldn’t call deer ‘enchanted.’ Unless they’ve got magic I don’t know about.”
Eleanor gave a small laugh. “I guess we’ll have to start asking more questions about the food before ordering. Or maybe just accept that every dish comes with a surprise.”
They ate in silence for a few moments, the humor of their discovery easing the tension, though the conversation about the Éclair family lingered like a shadow. The rich, smoky flavors of the deer and the light, crisp texture of the fish gradually registered as they finished their meals, but their minds remained occupied with questions that neither dared to voice yet.
Once their plates were clean and the tavern’s chatter began to feel overwhelming again, they exchanged a quiet, knowing look. Without a word, they rose and headed back upstairs to their room, their unspoken thoughts as heavy as the steps they took.
As the door to their room closed behind them, Eleanor and Nathaniel were met with the quiet comfort of their temporary sanctuary. The flickering candlelight casted long shadows across the walls. The room, though modest, offered a sense of privacy and refuge from the bustling tavern below.
Eleanor sat cross-legged on the bed, her fingers weaving a neat braid into her hair. “You should’ve seen your face when they brought out the ‘Flame Impala,’” she teased, her voice light and playful. “You looked like they’d just served you dragon tail.”
Nathaniel chuckled, leaning back against the wall, his arms folded. “And you were so confident about the ‘Enchanted Emu.’ Admit it--you thought it would sprout wings and fly off your plate.”
Eleanor smirked, tossing her braid over her shoulder. “Well, at least I didn’t almost ask the server what kind of magic the fish had.”
They both laughed, the tension of the evening momentarily forgotten. The warmth of the room made it easy to pretend that everything was fine--that they weren’t strangers in a foreign world with more questions than answers.
Nathaniel leaned back in the chair he was seated in; he crossed his arms with his expression unreadable. The weight of the men’s conversation from the tavern earlier pressed heavily on his mind. Finally, Nathaniel broke the quiet. “So,” he began, his voice low but steady, “The Éclairs are one of the seven noble families? Blessed by gods to save the world? And somehow, we’re part of that?”
Eleanor nodded slowly; her brow furrowed in thought. “That’s what they said. But I don’t think they know the whole story. It sounds... twisted, like it’s been passed down through too many mouths over too many years.”
She kept her tone calm, but inside, her stomach knotted. The words "blessed by gods" echoed in her mind, heavy with the weight of truth she wasn’t ready to admit out loud. She knew she was the blessed child--the one meant to carry on the Éclair family’s supposed divine legacy--but she had no intention of accepting it. The responsibility, the danger, the possibility of dying for a cause she didn’t ask to be part of... It was suffocating.
Nathaniel tilted his head, his gaze fixed on the fire. “Do you think Granddad knew all of this? About the gods, the blessings, the fall from grace?”
Eleanor hesitated, her fingers tightening around the blanket. “Maybe,” she admitted. “He did say our family came from Soltera, and that we had ties to something ancient. But he didn’t go into detail. Just... hints, really. Like he wanted to tell me more, but he didn't want to overwhelm me with information. He wanted to tell me the rest another time, but you can see how that played out.” Her voice faltered at the memory, a flicker of sadness crossing her face.
She hated lying, especially to Nathaniel. But telling him the truth--that she was the blessed child--would only make things worse. He’d feel obligated to protect her, to shoulder a burden that wasn’t his. They’d already lost so much. She couldn’t let him lose more--not for something she didn’t even want.
Eleanor exhaled sharply, sitting up straighter. “The whole thing about Argus, though--that’s the part that gets me. A demi-god causing chaos, monsters, plagues... and somehow, our family was supposed to help stop it? That’s insane.” She shook her head. “Why would the gods even get humans involved in something like that?”
“Maybe they had no choice,” Nathaniel said quietly. “Maybe the gods needed people who could wield their power, and the Éclairs... our ancestors must’ve been chosen for a reason. I’m not saying it’s easy to believe, but we’ve already seen things here that don’t make sense. You know, monsters, magic, a whole world we didn’t even know existed. At this point, I’m not ruling anything out.”
Eleanor sighed, leaning back against the wall. “Okay. Let’s say it’s true. Let’s say the Éclairs really were one of these seven families. What does that mean for us now? Those men said the family’s fallen from grace. No blessings. No power. Just... nothing.”
Nathaniel frowned, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Maybe it doesn’t mean anything. Or maybe it explains why we’re here. If chaos is stirring up again, like they said... maybe it’s connected to why we ended up in Soltera.”
The thought weighed on Eleanor heavily. If the Éclairs were meant to fix what Argus had broken, did that mean she was supposed to do the same? She didn’t want to be a hero. She didn’t want to be a savior. She just wanted to go home. That was the only thing she and Nathaniel truly agreed on--they didn’t belong here.
Eleanor shook her head, a bitter chuckle escaping her lips. “So what? The gods--or whoever’s in charge--want us to clean up their mess? After all this time?”
Nathaniel looked up at her, his eyes steady. “I don’t think anyone’s asking us to save the world Ella,” he said firmly. “But if there’s even a chance that we’re tied to this, we need to figure it out. For our own sake.”
She held his gaze for a moment before sighing and rubbing the back of her neck. “I don’t like it,” she muttered. “I don’t like any of it."
A faint smile tugged at Nathaniel’s lips, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “At least we’re on the same page,” he said softly.
They sat in silence for a while, as the weight of the unknown pressed heavily on them, but neither had the energy to untangle the knots of their thoughts any further that night.
Eventually, Nathaniel stood and stretched, his movements slow and deliberate. “We should get some sleep,” he said, his voice heavy with exhaustion. “Tomorrow’s not going to get any easier.”
Eleanor nodded, sliding under the blanket and settling into the bed. “Goodnight, Nathan,” she murmured, her voice soft but steady.
“Goodnight, Ella,” he replied, extinguishing the lantern before climbing into his own bed.
The room dimmed, and as they drifted into sleep, Eleanor’s thoughts lingered on the truth she was keeping. She didn’t want to be the blessed child. She didn’t want the risk, the responsibility, or the weight of the world on her shoulders. All she wanted was to go home, to Earth, where she and Nathaniel belonged.
But as she closed her eyes, a nagging fear settled deep in her chest: what if going home wasn’t an option? What if this, whether she liked it or not, was her fate?
Sunday, June 18th, 7:53a.m.
The soft light of dawn crept into the room, filtering through the worn curtains as Nathaniel stirred awake. He blinked groggily, his eyes adjusting to the early morning light. Sitting up in bed, he glanced over at Eleanor, who was still sound asleep. Her even breathing was the only sound in the quiet room, her face peaceful for the first time in what felt like days.
Nathaniel sighed, rubbing his eyes. "At least she’s resting". His gaze lingered on her for a moment, and a pang of sadness welled in his chest. Their grandfather’s passing had been a blow they hadn’t had time to process, and now, here they were--stranded in a foreign world, far from home, with no clear way back. The grief lingered like a shadow, never fully leaving but waiting to creep in during quiet moments like this.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed and padded toward the small mirror in the corner. His reflection stared back at him: disheveled hair, faint dark circles under his eyes--a testament to their lack of proper rest. Nathaniel sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “We’ve got a long day ahead of us,” he muttered under his breath.
They were supposed to go for an interview with an acquaintance of Merchant Miles today--a low-ranking noble looking to hire some domestic workers. Thanks to Merchant Miles, they had a letter of recommendation, but they didn’t know much about the noble or where the mansion was located. Nathaniel felt the familiar weight of uncertainty settle on his shoulders. Working for a stranger wasn’t exactly ideal, but they didn’t have many options.
But that wasn’t all. There’s the library too, he thought, his mind drifting back to the plan that had kept him awake for most of the night. After hearing those men talk about the Éclairs and the divine punishment, he knew they needed answers. He hadn’t told Eleanor yet, but the library was going to be their first stop.
Nathaniel stretched his stiff limbs and crossed the room quietly, grabbing a few clean clothes. “Better get ready before she hogs the bathroom.”
After splashing cold water on his face to wake up, Nathaniel dressed quickly and went back to wake Eleanor. The knot of anxiety in his chest tightened as he approached her bed. Grief and uncertainty swirled in his mind, but he pushed it aside for now. “Ella, wake up,” he said softly, his voice low but firm.
Eleanor groaned, pulling the blanket over her head as if trying to fend off the morning. “Five more minutes,” she mumbled sleepily.
Nathaniel huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Of course. Classic Eleanor.”
“You always say five more minutes, but we both know it’s going to be a lot longer,” he said, his tone teasing but edged with a faint sadness. He missed the easy mornings they used to have back home, before everything changed. Those memories felt like a lifetime ago now.
Eleanor peeked out from under the blanket, her eyes still heavy with sleep. “I’m up, I’m up…” she muttered, though her body remained firmly under the covers.
Nathaniel rolled his eyes. “If you want first dibs on the bathroom, you better get up now. I’m not waiting around for an hour while you do whatever it is you do in there.”
A small smile tugged at the corner of Eleanor’s lips despite her grogginess. She could hear the faint humor in his voice, but she also felt the sadness that hung between them like a veil. “You’re just jealous that I actually take time to look presentable,” she quipped, finally sitting up.
Nathaniel snorted, shaking his head as he sat on the edge of the bed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “Right, because looking perfect is going to help us find out more about this world and our family. Priorities, Ella.”
Eleanor shot him a mock glare before throwing the blanket off and standing up. “It’s called self-care, Nathan.” Her tone was light, but a flicker of grief crossed her face. Their grandfather would’ve smiled at her insistence on holding onto some sense of normalcy, even now.
He watched her head toward the bathroom, his smirk fading as his thoughts returned to the day ahead. “Self-care is great and all, but we have bigger things to worry about.”
As he listened to the sound of water running behind the closed bathroom door, Nathaniel clenched his fists slightly. Their grandfather’s passing felt like an unfinished chapter--a wound that hadn’t fully healed. He thought about the stories the old man used to tell, the ones that now seemed like fragments of a larger truth. Had he known what was waiting for them in Soltera? Had he been trying to prepare them?
Once Eleanor emerged, fresh and ready for the day, Nathaniel couldn’t resist teasing her.
“Finally done?” he said, raising an eyebrow.
Eleanor rolled her eyes. “You’re such a morning person, it’s unbearable.”
He smirked. “Someone has to be.”
Nathaniel’s playful demeanor shifted slightly. He had spent most of the night thinking about their next steps, and he still hadn’t brought it up to her. Clearing his throat, he tried to sound casual. “...I was thinking,” he began, crossing the room as Eleanor grabbed her shoes. “Before we head to the interview, we should probably stop by the library.”
Eleanor blinked at him, surprised. “The library? Why?”
“After what those guys were talking about last night… about the Éclairs and the gods and goddesses... it doesn’t sit right with me.” He paused, his brow furrowed in thought. “We need to know more about our family, about this world.”
Eleanor frowned. “I get that, but… what are we even looking for? You think the library’s going to have a ‘welcome to Soltera, here’s what your family’s been up to’ guide?”
Nathaniel gave a short laugh, though it was tinged with frustration. “No, obviously not. But there’s got to be something. History, old records--anything that can help us piece things together. If we’re going to survive here… we need to know where we come from.”
Eleanor leaned back, her arms crossed. “Okay, I see your point, but what about this job? We don’t want to miss the interview.”
Nathaniel nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Yeah, I know. I was thinking we skip breakfast and split the day between both. First stop, the library. We need answers before anything else.”
Eleanor studied his face for a moment, her expression softening. “You’ve thought this through, haven’t you?”
Nathaniel shrugged, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Someone has to.”
Eleanor rolled her eyes but smiled faintly. “Alright, fine. But you’re the one explaining why we’re late if we don’t make it to that mansion in time.”
“Deal,” Nathaniel replied, already focused on the day ahead.
As they left the room, the lingering sadness over their grandfather’s passing stayed with them, unspoken but shared. It was a quiet reminder of the home they’d lost--and the uncertain path ahead.
The first library, located just a short walk from the inn, was a modest, aging building. The humble library stood at the end of a narrow street, unassuming compared to the towering buildings that surrounded it. As Eleanor and Nathaniel entered, a sense of nostalgia seemed to settle over them. The scent of old wood and musty books filled the air, and soft beams of light from the high, gothic-style windows cut through the dust particles that danced lazily in the dimly lit room. Shelves stretched toward the ceiling, packed tightly with aging tomes and manuscripts, their spines cracked and worn, whispering of knowledge long forgotten.
The library’s interior was charming, though time had certainly taken its toll. The floorboards creaked underfoot, each step echoing gently throughout the room. Thick, red rugs sprawled across the floor, frayed at the edges from years of foot traffic. Low-burning lanterns cast flickering shadows against the shelves, and old wooden tables, scattered with mismatched chairs, were placed in the alcoves along the walls.
In the far corner, a small wooden desk stood beside a window, and behind it sat a frail, elderly woman. She had a shawl draped over her thin shoulders and spectacles balanced on the bridge of her nose as she squinted at a thick book. Her hands, wrinkled and delicate, gently turned the pages as though each one was a fragile treasure.
Eleanor and Nathaniel exchanged a glance before approaching the desk. The old woman looked up slowly, a kind but sharp gaze settling on them.
“Morning, dears,” she greeted them with a raspy but warm voice. “I don’t get many visitors here anymore. What can I do for you?”
“We were hoping to browse through some of the books,” Eleanor began, her voice soft as she glanced around the quiet room, taking in the atmosphere. There was a sense of peaceful isolation here, as though the rest of the world outside couldn’t touch them.
The old librarian smiled, her face wrinkling with the effort. “You’re welcome to, of course,” she said kindly. “You can read and take all the notes you like, but I’m afraid the books must stay here. They’re far too old to be taken out.”
Nathaniel nodded. “That’s fine,” he replied, though his eyes flickered with frustration at the thought of being bound to the library if they wanted to study any books at length.
“Do you need any help finding something specific?” the librarian offered, pushing her spectacles higher on her nose and looking from one sibling to the other.
Eleanor hesitated, her fingers brushing the edge of the desk. She was tempted to accept the offer, but revealing too much could give them away. “We’ll just browse for now,” she replied with a polite smile. “But thank you.”
“As you like,” the old woman nodded, returning to her book, though she kept an eye on them as they moved deeper into the library.
The siblings wandered between the shelves. The quiet rustle of pages turning and the occasional creak of the floor beneath them, were the only sounds in the room. Eleanor scanned the spines of books, most of which were titled in faded, nearly illegible script. She could feel Nathaniel’s tension growing beside her. His posture had become stiff, and his usual sharp focus had dulled into frustration.
“I don’t think we’re going to find anything of real value here,” Nathaniel muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair.
Eleanor sighed softly. “We can’t dismiss it yet. There could be something, even if it’s small.”
She didn’t want to admit it, but she felt the same discouragement. The worn-out covers and obscure local tales lining the shelves weren’t promising. It felt as though the knowledge contained in this place belonged to a time long past--irrelevant to their current mission.
They found a small reading nook tucked beneath a large stained-glass window, where the light filtered in through the colored panes, casting soft blues and golds on the wooden table. Nathaniel pulled a few books down from the shelves and dropped them onto the table with a dull thud. Eleanor took a seat, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the intricate carvings on the table’s edge as she watched him.
One by one, they flipped through the books, scanning for any mention of Sheffield, their family, or any connection to the Éclairs. After a few minutes, Eleanor’s fingers grazed the edge of a thick volume bound in deep blue leather with an elegant, gold-embossed title: "Gods and Goddesses of Old Escaena." The title caught her attention, and she opened the book, her curiosity piqued.