I lean back in my chair and murmur allowed "I can't ever imagine dad scared." The only time I ever saw my father show something like that was when I acted recklessly as a child, but for him to be scared for his own sake is such an alien concept.
"If only you had my power." Elira replied, surprising us all in the process but returning to the book mum left before we could ask him to elaborate. I wondered if I ever really knew how he felt, was the man who raised me a stranger the whole time. I saw him battle dragons, monsters and ancient calamities as though it was childish rough housing.
Tiamuth was uncomfortable, kitra was minding her own business taking the opportunity to read some of her childhood research reminiscing with herself as she flicked the pages, Brim was looking through an album, photography hadn't been invented until recently, but father was using magic to do the same thing a nearly two centuries prior, this made it possible for him to see the faces of his parents and siblings for the first time in nearly as long and he held back tears, silently moving his lips as he spoke to them.
I excuse myself, telling the others I'll prepare some lunch as I foresee a long stretch of reading. Excitement begins to well up in me, I usually only get the opportunity to cook for everyone at birthdays, which is becoming a most arduous task as the family grows.
As I enter the kitchen, I'm greeted by the phantoms of my parents, bickering about how spicy is too spicy, dad being scolded for teaching me how to make mums favourite cakes if I ever needed to bribe my way out of trouble, mum cooking his favourite dinner as she hummed his favourite song, the way they acted like embarrassed children if I ever opened the door while they were holding each other or kissing and jumping to opposite ends of the kitchen.
I slip into the old habit I picked up from mum and hum dads favourite tune as I open up the food storage, thankfully it's enchanted to stop food from spoiling as we didn't bring any with us. Smiling to myself as I decide what to make, I throw vegetables from the storage into the air, asking magic to catch and clean them as I sing to myself.
As magic cleans the vegetables above me I retrieve some bread, as well as meat from a cold storage box, summoning a knife from a draw and carving each with care before asking magic to catch and clean it as with the vegetables, choosing to shred the lettuce by hand first before using a freshly cleaned knife to slice the tomatoes.
"You haven't hummed that tune in decades. How are you coping?" the words coming as I finish plating up, I don't answer the question, simply sigh as tears begin to flow. Tiamuth moves to comfort me, but I simply shake my head and smile through the tears, telling him to take the others their lunch while I compose myself.
Now alone, Father's blood rises in me and flames begin to crackle around my hands, tears turn to steam. I ask my absent parents why they had to leave us, told them how selfish they were for abandoning us all, then sat on the floor, body reverting to that of a child with my emotions, I sobbed to myself quietly, magic trying to comfort me.
"You know they wouldn't approve of you taking this form sis." Elira spoke as he squatted in front of me, of course he would know, the heart of Kellis, empathy incarnate. I always felt selfish getting worked up around him, his power makes him experience the emotions of others firsthand, but now he's found me there was no point in holding back.
I tell him everything, how angry I am they left, that they were taken from us, how sad I was, how selfish I felt for wanting to leave my life to find them.
Elira didn't speak, he just listened, then picked me up and hugged me before putting me down and only then telling me how much he misses them to. I know he loved them both every bit as we all did, and I feel awful, but I always get a little angry when he openly talks about loving dad, aside from the day they left he hadn't seen dad in twenty years before then and that only added to father's self-loathing.
"You do enough for this world Mana, feel free to be a bit selfish when you need to." Returning to my adult form dad's blood rises in me again, not his anger this time but his awkwardness in emotional situations, so all I can manage is a thank you is a forced grin before punching him playfully in the arm.
We return to the study where the others had waited for us and reclaim our seats. As we eat lunch, I ask Elira what mum's letter said and he passes it over to me.
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
I laugh out loud as I read the five lines, startling the others with my bipolar shift in my mood, but the stark contrast between my parents never failed to make me laugh and her childish side was truly a sight to behold. Her dedication to her children and husband however was almost terrifying.
She started by asking Elira to find the strength to read fathers. That even if he only managed a page a day it may help bridge the gap between them, their strained relationship always weighing on her.
She continued with a personal message to everyone present, less pragmatic and freer spirited always telling us she would have been as bad as dad if she didn't have him to save her. Not that they ever explained what she meant by him saving her since she always seemed to be the one saving him, at least when she wasn't the one threatening him.
I feel strange, I had never really wondered about the people who raised us as they were always so forthcoming with things, yet now I realised that had simply made me assume I knew everything about them. I feel a bit foolish, of course they didn't tell me everything, dad's true history was darker than I ever suspected, no wonder he only ever spoke to us of times mum was by his side. I was excited now, to find out how they met, they would always just say mum hounded dad until she wore him down enough to trick him into marriage.
With that new motivation I ask my siblings if they want to take bets, Elira refuses, Tiamuth was sworn to secrecy by his father Duros, Leaving Brim and Kitra to humour me.
"I'm guessing Uncle Master introduced them as a new student of his." I make my statement, with unwarranted certainty but magic tells me instantly that I may be close but I'm still far from the truth.
"I bet Storyteller knew her parents." Kitra, stated hesitantly, her power making her indecisive in games like this.
"I bet he saved her when the monsters attacked town." Brim's guess definitely has credit to it, but there was only one way to find out.
Freshly motivated, at least for the time being I return my attention to the book before me and resume reading.
Lesson 3
Not all puppets have strings better just to ask.
I awoke several hours later to find I was in bed at home, the darkness of night had long since descended, and only the silver moonlight illuminated the room revealing the last person I wanted to see.
I was surprisingly calm now, even as I turned to look the divine hand in the eye. Uncertainty plagued me, in the hall it was fear of the unknown was convincing me this individual was a threat, but the fact I woke up with them sitting peacefully next to me struck that possibility from my mind, yet it seemed best to try and maintain that stand point and play the part of the endangered child and although acting is not a talent of mine being accepting of my impending destruction is my nature.
In the end, all I could think to do was tell them that if they wanted to kill me, they should do it, finishing with a long rambling speech that was stuffed with self-pity.
"Sorry to interrupt, I'm not here to kill you, why would I? I just wanted to make sure you were okay." I blinked dumbly for a bit and retrained my eyes on theirs; lifeless, hollow, almost dead, they looked like mine when I first saw them in Storyteller's mirror.
As the almost haunting figure continued, I listened, until they said, "My elevation and yours go hand in hand." The words made me furious; the divine hand wanted help from one seemingly scorned by the gods, and there was something else.
Her hollow monotone speech, this person wasn't who they appeared, they were too cold and detached like the outcome of the conversation meant nothing to them in the end which I knew isn't the tone one adopts when asking for an alliance.
The similarities between us were stacking, but my paranoia was growing, and my choleric temperament starting to cut through. If there was one thing I was certain of, it was that anyone who reminded me of me in the worst ways, was not to be trusted.
My guardian came into the room before I could reply in anger, or lose my focus, and told me that the puppet had come home with us from the hall, but now that I was awake it was only right that I should escort the young lady home if I was up to it.
I didn't like the idea of showing them any courtesy, but I did want to be alone with them. I wanted to tell a servant of the gods how I felt. I needed to tell them how much I loathed them, that I rejected them, just like everyone else rejected me.
I also wanted to know more about their purpose and what scheme they were plotting that required someone like me to work hand in hand with them. I had enough self-awareness to know nothing I was needed for was good, even my intelligence lacked the fundamental experience to be of any practical use.
As we left the warmth of the house I lived in with Storyteller and began walking the moonlit streets, first came a chilling breeze. I still lacked the ability to truly feel the cold, but I could feel my skin tighten and all the other autonomous reactions as it washed over me.
Afterwards came a brief statement that seemed to have been rehearsed to a painful degree. "They don't hate you, the gods I mean, it's just they can't interfere too deeply with humans, to watch over one who could so easily manipulate human hearts, would violate the rules." Every word, or rather the arrogant self-serving tone they were spoken in, infuriated me further.
By the time we had reached the end of the street I lived on, I was ready to put an end to that farce. I felt like demanding her to cease the charade, the stench of omissions and half-truths becoming almost miasmic and working only to cement me in opposition.
My instincts warned I was foolishly falling for a trap I was aware of, and I said the first thing that came to my mind, desperate to stop their pestering and gain control of the conversation to retain my clarity. The best topic I could come up with was my relationship with Storyteller and Master, deciding that it was best to utilise my trust for them as a buffer and ask about their motivations in raising me, deciding then and there that any attempt to divide us would be when I stopped listening.
Annoyingly when I asked, they simply confirmed that they did, trying to milk my newfound investment in the conversation. Whilst their enthusiasm was my displeasure, I was glad that my diversion had worked and grew determined to keep it going, but my severe lack of communication skills left me dumb, so all that could be managed was a simple "Tell me." Luckily however the divine agent seemed all too eager to seize the chance at building momentum.
"For a favour…" They paused a second to flash me an unnatural grin, dropping their guard, and surprising me with how ironically easy it was proving to manipulate them. As the Divine hand proceeded to tell me of Master and Storyteller's motivations, they did so in a way almost irritatingly vague, though I got the sense it was more from lack of details rather than further omission of the facts which left me with a sense of intrigue strong enough to quell my temper.
As I listened, a thought crossed my mind, they were implying that the man caring for me had intimate knowledge of events to come, events which they themself lacked such intricate details of, to take me in, raise me, nurture me and try to give me the means to make a choice other than the apparently violent future meant for me. My appetite for knowledge became newly wetted as I wondered if Storyteller was truly able to see the future.
They leaned into the subject and began divulging more intricate details of the storyteller elevation, how it allows the bearer to read the entirety of a life and all they need to do so is a tome of blank pages and a clear image of an individual.
She described how Storyteller had seen his own death a little over six years from now, working on the descriptions of the young man responsible he found me and attempted to twist fate. walking into a beam of moonlight as if to add a touch of unnecessary melodrama, she continued to say that he was acting in self-interest and holds no true feelings for me.
whilst I had to admire the ever so not subtle attempt to drive a wedge between us, with that attempt my mind was made and whilst the girl before me was an innocent stranger, the one speaking was my enemy and a voice I needed to silence.
I asked magic to gather and prepare, to sever the link between marionette and master if possible, or to end the life before me if necessary. If there is one thing I had perfected at that stage, it was identifying suffering, and whilst I truly assigned no value to life, I was under no delusion I had the right to take it frivolously, the suffering before me though would be a mercy to end.
Having so far managed to garner substantial insight into the motives, and even a potential future complete with a timeline spanning the next six years, my only objective now was buying time until magic was prepared to unleash itself and the moment right to strike.
Focusing on buying time proved difficult though, hesitation reared its head and whilst it was quite refreshing to realise, I had more humanity left in me than I thought, the timing couldn't be worse. The puppet was no stronger than a normal girl of ten, but the abilities of the puppeteer were unknown and almost certainly beyond what I could handle.
Regardless of that, the winning thought running through my head was that whoever this girl was, its true owner, I had never seen them before, never had they treated me with ill will. Until this point, I was never the first to resort to violence and never gone as far to take a life and I didn't want to start, to lose what little humanity I had just discovered, so I continued talking, looking for as many reasons to go ahead with my attack as possible.
From desperation the assertion that telling the lord would go against the tenant of interrupting to deeply came, then I enquired as to what the completion of their objective meant for them.
Would the puppet be freed? Remain enthralled indefinitely? Or be disposed of like anything else that no longer held value to its owner. I realised then that I wasn't look for many reasons to kill them, but just one reason not to, if the girl would be freed after this, I could just let it play out and leave her be.
"You are correct, so as not to interfere with mortals, I cannot live. I was actually supposed to die from fever several years ago but was graciously given an extension for this moment." My anger flared, but my desperation was stronger still, surprising even myself I lunged forward and grabbed the girl's tunic, lifting her off the ground.
"HOW CAN YOU ACCEPT THAT!?" I didn't understand the situation I found myself in at all, my eyes were streaming, and this time I was talking to the girl, not the one controlling her. There were lights turning on in some of the homes, but I needed my answer, anything else was inconsequential. I ignored the ceaseless prattling of her voice as I looked for some sign of independent will.
Just another human born to suffer with no chance at peace. The greatest injustice in this world is that we have no choice in our birth, existence is forced on us along with all the hardships, however happiness and the ability to enjoy life are things that must be taken with one's own hands.
This girl was like me, too weak to seize that happiness, dominated by those hardships. If she still possessed some form of free will, she was undoubtedly as aware of that fact as me, and I owed it to them to honour that common ground.
Suddenly, the hollow voice ceased and grunted as the lifeless amber eyes of the divine hand fell to their own shaking hand that was slowly rising from their side toward me. As the hand came to rest on my shoulder, I could hear and feel movement from beneath her skin, the agony she must be enduring to make this small gesture was more than I expected or had the ability to imagine.
As I lowered them to the ground as gently as I could, I changed the directive issued to magic from silencing them to saving her even if it killed me and as it finished gathering, the magic told me that it hopes I survive, which helped me manage a grin as the dam burst and gathered power funnelled through me.
The magic acted with subtlety and precision for a brief moment, then in an instant turned berserk and uncontrolled. I hadn't ever gathered so much before but the target this spell has is the divine hands elevation, an extension of the god's powers, so I had no measure of effectiveness.
I felt the magic hammering against an immovable object, the backlash and proximity caused me to cough up blood as tendrils of energy lashed me, as well as flaying and carving flesh.
Initially I assumed failure as the delicate body before me slumped like a marionette with its strings cut, I thought I had killed the girl and not the divinity within her as I had intended. Then in spite of the agony, I felt relief when I saw the mark of Unity appear and knew I had succeeded.
No good deed goes unpunished in this world though, and now the remaining magic was rebounding, furious at being gathered for nothing, and my attempts to repurpose it for healing were ignored, since its original purpose was diametrically opposed to healing.
Pain completely broke through my years long lack of feeling, but I took pride in the fact I was able to bring myself to help another. Even as the pain grew ever stronger, and blood pooled around me. Then my life began flashing before me, I had read about this before. On the verge of death, the human mind would pull back the veil of memory in a desperate attempt to grant an epiphany on how to avoid death.
"Spell creation is a very dangerous practice and the stronger the spell you are trying to create, the more dangerous it is. Do not try your hand at this Unity, you are strong, but it requires a clear mind and yours is understandably filled with very strong distracting emotions. If you gather too much magic for the spell you wish to create, whatever is left will take on those feelings and turn on you."
Storyteller's words resounded in me as the maelstrom of directionless magic assailed me, stands to reason that someone with no particular desire to cling to life, would only see a memory that happens to be relevant. It was strange but I was finding death boring, pain was nothing new, bleeding was nothing new, I actually wondered with my little remaining consciousness how long it was going to take.
Fresh pain washed over me more intense than before, as if death had become self-conscious by my lack of interest and reinvested itself.
I wondered if this was how it felt to cross this final threshold, as I adjusted to the growing pain however my mind began to fade until once again, the world faded to black, and what I assumed would be a final defiant grin stretched across my face as I wished to welcome death with a smile.