The sharp edges of the key pressed into her palm, and she bit her lip, letting out a heavy sigh. Estelle gazed at the house before her, her heart a tangle of conflicting emotions. For most, home was a place of warmth and comfort, but for her, the thought of it churned her stomach. It was the end of July, and the sun was dipping below the horizon. The fading light only reminded her how late it had become, and she couldn’t bring herself to delay her return any longer.

She climbed the stairs quietly, the familiar routine from her childhood still lingering in her movements. Standing before the front door, she hesitated once again. Of all the days in the year, the seventeenth of July was the worst for her. Maybe she was just being foolish, but never did she find it so difficult to go home as she did on this day.

Voices filtered through the closed door, and Estelle could have sworn she heard the words birthday, party, and cake. Her eyes widened slightly. Could it be...? Could it really be...? A faint smile tugged at the corners of her lips, and with a renewed sense of courage, she pushed open the door and stepped into the flat. She followed the sounds until she found herself in the kitchen.

The room fell quiet, and Greg shot her a look of disgust. "Anka. It's back". He bumped her shoulder roughly as he passed, leaving the kitchen without another word. Estelle winced, rubbing the spot where he'd struck her, and took a few steps toward the kitchen table. There, to her surprise, was a cake. A strawberry cream cake, its top adorned with delicate white chocolate shavings. But what struck her most was the near emptiness of the cake, there was hardly any of it left.

Just over a quarter of the cake remained, and the frozen strawberry in the centre had long since vanished. Footsteps echoed, and Estelle turned to face them. Blue-grey eyes, cold and distant, were obscured by strands of dark hair.

"Finn brought you your favourite cake for your birthday. You know, not everyone has a brother as thoughtful as you. Perhaps you should show him a little more gratitude in the future" Anka said, her voice sharp.

"But this isn't my favourite cake. It's Finn's..." Estelle's words faltered under the weight of the reproachful, stern look from the woman in front of her. She fell silent. Her smile was like that of a seasoned actress, perfected over the years. On the surface, it looked incredibly beautiful—a pose she had rehearsed since childhood. But when you looked into her deep, ocean-blue eyes, the light that once shone there had long since faded. Nowadays, people rarely looked each other in the eye. And when they did, it sent a shiver down your spine.

"Yes, I'll do that in future..." Estelle replied, her voice quiet. Anka gave her one last glance before casually leaving the kitchen with a dismissive, "All the best"

"Thanks, Mum..." Estelle whispered as her mother disappeared from view. She slowly retreated to her room, which resembled more of a parlour than a sanctuary. Collapsing onto the bed, she found no comfort in its softness. The rest she so desperately needed remained elusive. When the screen of her mobile phone lit up with Dedo's name flashing across it, she immediately picked up the call, eager for the distraction.

"Hello?" Estelle answered, her voice soft. On the other end of the line, her grandfather and some distant relatives sang a birthday song in her mother's native language. The familiar melody filled the air, and once the little performance ended, everyone wished her a happy birthday in Golubacki.

After a brief pause, her grandfather, Dušan Filipović, finally took the phone. "Sretan Rodjendan, Mila moja" he said warmly, his voice full of love. Estelle smiled faintly. It was the same birthday wish every year, yet it carried a sense of uniqueness and comfort, like a cherished ritual that made her feel at home, no matter the distance.

"Have you had a nice party so far?" That was one question Estelle had hoped to avoid. But now it was too late. She hesitated before replying, "I... I’ve been to the doctor. I had my check-up today."

An uncomfortable silence hung in the air.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

"Right. Are you coming to visit us in the summer?" another question followed, one she would have preferred not to answer.

"I—... I!" She stammered, struggling for words.

"You've got a lot to learn this summer, then?"

Her hand instinctively moved to her chest, clutching the object hidden there. On the verge of tears, she managed to whisper, "Yes"

"I see" came the soft reply. "I’m sure it’ll all work out next year. I won’t keep you any longer. Have a nice evening"

She set her mobile phone aside, stood up, and pulled the thin turtleneck jumper over her head, tossing it carelessly aside. Then, she reached for a worn-out shirt and slipped it on. A wave of relief washed over her, like a breath of fresh air. Summer was most certainly not her favourite season. Estelle stood in front of the mirror, her glassy eyes fixed on the left side of her neck. It was the reason she always wore a scarf or a turtleneck, no matter the time of year. That mark defined her—more than anything else. The zodiac sign of Cancer sprawled across half her neck, an indelible reminder of what and who she truly was.

Estelle was not human.

She had never been human.

If the use of the elements and the mark on her neck weren’t proof enough, this was. She reached for the object that hung around her neck like a necklace. It was a crystal, pointed at both ends and about the size of her little finger. One side shimmered with a deep, sea-blue hue that reminded her of the ocean’s depths. On the other side, the colour darkened slightly, fading to white at the tip, almost like the moon glowing in the night sky. The recurring purple accents in the blue made her think of one of her elemental powers—an unspoken connection she could never escape.

Estelle wasn't staring at just any crystal. No, this was her soul stone.

At birth, the soul stone is still bonded to you. When it’s removed, the wound heals instantly, leaving behind only a mark that reveals the zodiac sign you belong to. Beings like her were known as Monto. She had once been told that there was no room for her own soul within her body, not with all the elemental power flowing through her. Still, the thought of holding her own soul in her hands—of seeing it, so tangible and real—felt strangely foreign.

Monto. There were only a handful of them, and their existence was a secret that few knew, and fewer still were meant to know. They were remnants of the star gods, beings who were better off hidden away, locked in the shadows of forgotten history. After all these years, Estelle still didn’t understand the true nature of her connection to the twelve star gods. Some whispered that they were cursed, while others claimed the gods had forsaken them. The truth, however, remained elusive. What she did know, with a certainty that weighed heavily on her heart, was that each Monto belonged to a star sign and could wield the power of their assigned element. But then there were Monto like her, who possessed the ability to command more than one element. A gift—or perhaps a burden—that no one truly understood.

Humans didn’t react well to her presence. Her family, more than anything, proved that truth. Her mother was human, but Estelle was not. No one dared speak her full name, and instead, they referred to her as it. Despite their insistence that it was just a nickname, Estelle couldn't shake the feeling that she was nothing more than an object, a thing, rather than a living being with a name and a soul. When she returned to the kitchen for a glass of water, her eyes fell on the last piece of cake. Without thinking, she grabbed it and placed it on her desk with a plate. She opened the window, climbed out, and settled herself on the old fire escape.

The night was still now, with only the stars above bearing witness. The night sky glittered with the soft light of countless stars. Monto’s nineteenth birthday was a momentous occasion. From this day on, her body would cease to age for the next 150 years. And, in just a few minutes, her nineteenth birthday would come to a quiet end.

Estelle pulled Simon's white paper bag from her bag and unwrapped the dried-out chocolate muffin he gave her every year. She popped a piece into her mouth, and hot tears began to spill down her cheeks. Maybe, after all these years, she should have grown accustomed to this. When was the last time anyone had celebrated her birthday? Not even her biological father had bothered to show up. But what had she truly expected?

She shoved another piece of muffin into her mouth, trying to stifle her sobs. Her deep blue eyes turned to the sky, seeking some comfort. The moon hung above her in all its radiant beauty, as if reaching out, yearning to embrace her. The wind brushed past, and she could have sworn she heard a whisper: Don’t be sad.

And after all these years, she still wondered:

Who am I?

What is my destiny?

Why am I alive?