It was Aldous, not her mother, who was there when Renea first entered this world.

Aldous was the first face she ever saw. He held her as an infant before anyone else, and his was the first pinky that her small hand ever grasped.

And when she was young… whenever she was hurting… he’d always tell her the story. Of how she’d come wailing back to life in his arms, filled with the will to live; how when she finally opened her eyes, he looked into them and saw the duchy’s hope.

He was the one who’d called her a miracle child, even when she never believed it herself.

But seven years ago, on that bitterly cold day…

The day that Renea’s mother died, her selfishness caused an irreparable rift between her and Aldous.

“Speak to me! How could this have happened to Celine?!” Aldous lightly shook her, desperation and sorrow twisting his face. It was the first time Renea had ever seen tears in Aldous’s eyes. “Please, Lady Renea, I beg of you to speak!”

Renea was in a state of shock. She couldn’t even cry.

When Aldous came running up—his horse had died along the way, he’d made such haste—Renea had no words for him.

And Aldous, realizing that the girl in front of him wouldn’t so much as speak, stared at her with such anger and hurt. Yet, he did nothing to harm her. Instead, he quietly approached her mother, lifted her gently, and began to sob.

“Celine!” Aldous, the man who always seemed so indomitable, was sobbing in front of her. And what was she doing?

Just staring at him.

Her mother had realized the truth at the very end. She understood that she’d die because of her daughter’s selfishness. She’d seen that her daughter had the eyes of a demon.

And in the very last act of her life, Renea’s mother had sneered at her.

Left with a truth she couldn’t speak, and a memory she couldn’t bear, Renea simply shut down.

It was so cold. And the swirl of the blizzard kept ringing in her ears.

That day, after Aldous had sobbed holding her mother’s body for a near hour, while Renea herself shed no tears, he spoke to her just once more.

“Let us return to safety,” Aldous said, gruffly. Then, carrying her mother so gently, he walked on ahead.

He wouldn’t even look at her. Of course he wouldn’t. Renea wasn’t even brave enough to give him the consolation of truth.

The two of them never spoke about that day ever again.

Time passed, and civility returned between them. Perhaps even a degree of warmth. Renea sincerely didn’t understand why Aldous never told another soul of her eyes… and as time went on, she hoped against hope it was because he was protecting her.

Renea knew just how completely she’d squandered the trust that once came with his devotion. Too timid to reach out, yet always desperately hoping he would take her hand; never certain of his true feelings, and too cowardly to ask—she shamelessly filled in the blanks.

She began to cling to the idea that Aldous still cared about her, even though they’d grown so distant since her mother’s death. That he’d glimpsed the ugliness inside of her and chose to believe in her anyway.

The young girl just wanted someone to tell her that she deserved to live.

Hurting from the contempt her mother had shown at the very end, Renea was desperate to feel loved. And as Aldous continued to march away, his back retreating into the distance, she told herself it was his quiet way of urging her on. In her distress, she forced herself to hear tenderness in silence—in his seeming inaction, she saw a chance proffered, to show she really was a child of miracles.

She wanted to prove that there was a reason she’d been sent here, to this bleak place; she prayed relentlessly, striving to catch a glimpse of the hand of providence that carried her, to vindicate the belief she thought Aldous had in her. And one day… if only she had faith, then she could reach out for its grasp—

Yet the man who told Renea her birth was a miracle was now calling it a blasphemy. And the moment she heard it, she felt something crack inside of her.

All these years since her mother’s death, Aldous had just hated her. He regretted the first breath she ever took. He saw her real eyes and felt disgust.

Aldous wished she’d never been born.

And it was so painful that Renea finally understood—that deep in her heart, she’d always believed him. She really believed she was a miracle child.

But the truth was, she was just some creep who stole a baby’s corpse.

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Ennieux, acutely aware of her less-than-formal attire, strode up the abbey’s processional aisle. Yet, the profound embarrassment she felt swiftly gave way to sheer disbelief.

“Just what is going on here?!” Ennieux screamed.

It was the first time in her life she’d regretted sleeping in since she was a child.

Late this morning, when she’d finally anxiously left her room, she could see the knights had gone somewhere.

Something had shocked the servants. They were whispering, scurrying around, and avoiding her eyes. It wasn’t until Ennieux finally stomped right up to a maid that they told her: that the knights had begun an inquisition, targeting both of her nieces.

Forgetting to even change out of her robe, Ennieux sprinted toward the abbey in a panic.

How could this happen? The Azure Knights must either be cretins or traitors, because who could possibly believe that Renea had tried to kill anyone, much less her own brother? How could Sophie possibly muster the strength to hurt Ailn?

When Ennieux reached the chapel, she cast the doors open, ready to speak in her most regal tone. But the sight of her younger niece with her eyes closed and swords at her neck horrified her, and she could hardly hold back her scream.

Ennieux kept her stride graceful, even though it felt like air was painfully stuck in her chest. “Well?! Is anyone going to apprise me of what’s going on?!”

Right away, two knights came up to her. One of them, a female knight, gently held her back, while the other positioned himself to block her view.

“Mother,” Dame Camille, Ennieux’s daughter, spoke in a soothing tone. “You should not witness this. Please, go back.”

Sir Nicolas, her son, said nothing. As always, his expression was sparse, but his mother at least understood he felt emotionally torn.

Her children never listened to her. But surely for something like this—

“Have you two no shame?” Ennieux glared at both of her children. “Your cousin has steel at her neck, and you would simply quietly watch?”

“Lady Renea is being tried for a crime,” Camille said. Her tone was gentle. “No one… there is not a single soul in this abbey without a heavy heart, mother. Please understand.”

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“For the crime of attacking Ailn?! She loves that lout to a fault!” Ennieux turned left and right to both sides of the pews. “Are you all simpletons?!”

“No one is above justice, mother. Not even the Saintess,” Camille whispered. “I’m begging you to leave with grace.”

Ennieux stared at her daughter with wide-eyes.

“You know Renea wouldn’t attack Ailn. Why will you not defend her?” Ennieux pleaded with her own daughter, then turned to her son. “You’ve watched over her since she was an infant, Nicolas!”

She grabbed her daughter’s hands: “You… you were her playmate, Camille!”

But both of them remained silent.

From the front, Aldous called out to the two knights with a weary voice.

“Dame Camille, Sir Nicolas… please escort your mother out,” Aldous sighed. “I do not wish to expose her to another tragedy.”

Camille reached gently for her mother’s shoulders, and even Nicolas was approaching her now.

“A mere knight dares to defy a eum-Creid?” Ennieux’s voice quivered with anger, as she threw her daughter’s hands off. “Let go of me, for heaven’s sake! You’d think Aldous birthed the two of you the way you act! If you won’t defend her, then I shall!”

She stomped up to the front of the abbey, and crossed her arms.

“Sir Ferme has no right to banish me,” Ennieux snarled at Aldous, before turning angrily to her own children. “And for that matter neither does Sir and Dame Gren!”

Ennieux hid the shaking in her voice as best she could. She knew she had no place here. Even she understood her power over the knights had always been gestural.

She did not actually know what rights and powers the Order held, but it hardly mattered. She was Varant’s noblest coward, and this inquisition was run by knights who predictably thought little of her.

But no matter the contempt and condescension thrown her way, she would never let herself forget that she was a eum-Creid. A true one.

“...I’m in full agreement with Her Grace,” Kylian said. “As she is not under inquisition, there is no justification to waive our oath of fealty.”

She’d hardly had a moment to feel grateful for Sir Kylian’s support, when she heard her niece’s cracking voice.

“A-Auntie Ennie?” Renea asked.

It was something Renea hadn’t called her in the longest time. And when Ennieux turned to look at her niece, her eyes shook.

The sight had been appalling from afar. But at close quarters it was utterly heartbreaking. She wasn’t merely closing her eyes. She was squeezing them shut with desperate force. Her breaths were shuddering, and her cheeks were scrunched up and wet.

“Would anyone care to elucidate me as to why my niece is afraid to open her eyes?” Ennieux demanded.

Aldous, who’d been distracted by Ennieux’s loud entrance, deemed himself fit to give his own absurd explanation.

“Lady Renea is hiding her eyes, for fear of revealing herself a demon,” Aldous spoke with laughable gravitas. “A demon who tried to kill her brother, and left him to die. Just like she left her mother to die.”

Ennieux blinked a few times.

“... Are you mad?” Ennieux was sure she misheard. “You’re threatening the future Saintess with the noose because of an old wive’s tale?”

“Lady Ennieux it is far too much to apprise you of in brevity,” Aldous growled. “Whether you believe she’s a demon or not, this inquisition has shown irrefutably that it was she who attempted to kill her brother. If you find this outcome lamentable, then endeavor to rise before the midday sun.”

“Next, will you try her for conspiring with fairies to make the castle cold?!” Ennieux screeched.

Ailn came up next to her, placing a hand on her shoulder to calm her. He cleared his throat.

“Ennieux,” Ailn said, “could you go ahead and confirm for us who Sophie’s father is?”

“For God’s sake, it’s Aldous! Who else would it be?!” Ennieux yelled. She glanced back at the man and upon meeting his eyes shuddered violently. “Of course I knew! How should you expect me to announce my sister’s indiscretion?!”

Her declaration sent a buzz of discussion through the knights, as Ennieux strode up to Renea, close as the swords would let her.

She wanted nothing more than to howl at these knaves calling themselves knights—but she held back, because soothing Renea was infinitely more important.

“Renea,” Ennieux’s voice was soft, as if she were speaking to an infant swaddled in her arms. “Renea, won’t you please open your eyes for me?”

But Renea only squeezed her eyes tighter, shaking her head as lightly as possible due to her fear of the swords.

“I-I can’t,” Renea said.

“Renea, why not? I simply don’t understand,” Ennieux said.

“A-Auntie En… Ennie, I just—“ Renea started quivering terribly. Her throat, overly tight from how jerkily she’d been breathing, kept catching her words before they could come out. “—can’t.”

And finally, even though she’d held it in through the entire inquisition, she started crying.

It wasn’t the jeers of the knights that ultimately overwhelmed her, nor Aldous’s hatred. It was the kindness of her haughty aunt, who stood up for Renea against even her own children—the ones for whose affection Ennieux was always desperately trying to court.

“I-I just—I want t-to see—Ailn,” Renea stammered, her voice broken by sobs.

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Ailn was sincerely sorry that he’d let it get this far.

If he’d known it was like this, he would’ve forced her to tell the truth earlier.

…Or maybe that was just him making excuses for himself. He couldn’t say for sure that ego hadn’t gotten in the way. Perhaps a small part of him felt like he lost, not being able to catch Aldous without outing her. But he’d had legitimate reasons not to.

She’d lost her brother. Then he came along, and took the body of Ailn eum-Creid. He didn’t want to upend her life yet another time.

It was her business how she wanted to run her life, he’d told himself. What gave him the right?

If he could prove Aldous was the culprit without ever revealing her secret, then the two of them could’ve gone their own way. She wouldn’t have her brother back, of course, and people would question their sudden distance. But it would’ve done as little damage to her life as possible—at least, until she got caught.

At that point, whenever it ended up happening, it was out of his hands.

But looking at her now, it was clear her secret was destroying her. She still hadn’t told the truth through that entire emotional onslaught.

“I-I just,” Renea kept on stammering, “I w-want to see my b-brother.”

“What are you talking about, Renea…?” Ennieux asked. “He’s right there, Renea. Just… open your eyes.”

“The girl is speaking nonsense precisely because she wishes to conceal them, Lady Ennieux,” Aldous said coldly. “The demon is in terror, because it realizes it cannot explain itself. So it pantomimes insanity.”

Ailn wanted to tell Aldous to shut the hell up, but he restrained himself. It was his fault her public berating and humiliation had gone this far. The important thing right now was calming her down so they could fix this—even if it was just glue and duct tape.

Sophie stood up. By now tears were angrily streaming down her face. He felt regret, knowing she was someone who’d implicitly put her trust in him too.

“Renea couldn’t have attacked Ailn, because the truth is—”

“Sophie, hold on.” Ailn interrupted her.

“Hold on?! Do you see what the consequences of delaying have been?” Sophie’s voice cracked.

“Renea needs to say it herself. Okay?” Ailn asked. “Let’s give her a chance.”

“In this state…?!” Sophie asked.

“... Give me a chance, too,” Ailn said hesitantly. “I’ll get through to her.”

Ailn walked up to Reynard, and implored him.

“Sir Reynard, please drop the sword. I need to talk to my sister face to face,” Ailn said.

Reynard quietly regarded Ailn, meeting his gaze for a long moment.

Then, without a word, he lowered his sword, his eyes creasing with pain and regret as he sheathed it—a single imploring glance urging his fellow knight to follow suit.

Aldous didn’t particularly seem to care. He clearly understood from Renea’s behavior that her ruby eyes must be manifesting, and believed he simply needed to wait it out—they weren’t even the lynchpin of his accusation.

Not to mention all it would do at this point is make him look even more terrible than he already did.

Whether or not the knights in the abbey really thought Renea was a demon, she would be, right now, one that was crying. Even if it was another one of her tricks, it still tugged at their hearts.

When both swords were withdrawn, Renea gasped and fell forward, her eyes still shut. She pulled her arms inward to hold herself, and couldn’t stop herself from raising her hands to shield her neck.

But she was still gasping and hiccuping because her crying had left her breathless. The good news was the sheer feelings of relief and safety had, for now, halted her outright sobbing.

“Renea,” Ailn said.

Renea flinched at the sound of her name, from so close. But the first time Ailn called out to her, she didn’t respond—he waited patiently while she calmed down.

“Renea, listen to me,” Ailn tried again.

“L-leave me alone,” Renea hiccuped while she tried to talk. “I-I want to see Ailn. Just—just let me...”

“You know you don’t want that,” Ailn said. “Or you wouldn’t have been scared by those swords.”

“Please… I m-miss him… It hurts so much…”

Ailn gave her a moment, letting her hiccup all the while.

“Renea, I… can’t be the brother that you deserve,” Ailn spoke slowly, so she could digest his real meaning. “But from the bottom of my heart, I am trying to help you.”

He spoke gently but firmly.

Her expression still twitched unhappily at the word ‘brother,’ but she didn’t reject him outright. It was a start—at least she was listening.

“Renea, you need to tell the truth,” Ailn said.

“What would that do—”

“You need to explain why you couldn’t heal me.”

Renea froze.