The days blurred together, each one a chain of routine and misery. My siblings would leave for the learning academy, their uniforms neat, their heads held high as if they carried the future itself in their hands. Father disappeared—sometimes to work, sometimes to visit the other woman everyone in town whispered about, though Mother pretended she didn't exist. As for Mother, she spent her time gossiping with neighbors, parading her "perfect family," and showering praise on my siblings as if they were shining stars.
It was pathetic. They were pathetic.
Behind the closed doors of our home, we were a rotting mess. The "happy family" everyone admired was nothing more than a painted mask stretched over decay. To the town, my mother was a respectable, refined woman, wise and well-spoken, always ready to lend advice or pass judgment. But when it came to her own daughter—me—she was blind, deaf, and cruel. What a joke.
I was the outcast. The shameful shadow they all tried to ignore.
But what they didn't know—what no one ever cared to notice—was that I was smarter than all of them combined. Far smarter. When my siblings returned home and hid away with their books, pretending to study, I watched. I saw the truth. They never did homework. They barely took notes. Their grades were sinking like stones in a river. Yet still, Mother bragged about their brilliance, and Father puffed up with pride about their futures.
Jasailee, my sister, dreamed of becoming a physician. Jason, my brother, wanted to be a knight. But the truth? Their minds were slow, their talent shallow. They wanted greatness, but lacked the foundation to build it. They were empty vessels propped up by lies.
I, on the other hand, devoured knowledge in secret. Every scrap of paper, every scribbled note, every borrowed book they left lying around—I consumed it all. And through those pages, I began to understand not just the world we lived in, but the cruelty that shaped it.
This world was called Nexus. And here, status and power meant everything. Power decided who lived in comfort and who crawled in the dirt. Power crowned kings, raised empires, and shattered lives. And the root of that power was magic.
Not everyone had it. Some were born touched by the gift, their blood singing with arcane energy. Others were not, destined instead for menial tasks, scraping by in trades that demanded no magic. The learning academies taught basic knowledge, just enough to prepare children for ordinary lives. But the true prize—the dream every parent whispered for their child—was the magic academies. Halls of wonder, mystery, and danger. Only those with talent and coin could enter.
Coin we didn't have. Talent I didn't possess.
From the books, I learned of the seven continents that spread across Nexus like pieces of a puzzle. Each one teeming with life, conflict, and wonder. Elves with their ageless beauty. Dwarves with their endless crafts. Monsters and beasts that stalked the dark. Dragons and phoenixes that ruled the skies. Spirits and fairies hidden in their secret realms. And us—humans, weak and fragile, clawing for scraps of survival.
It was intoxicating. This world was vast, cruel, and dazzling.
And in its cruelty, I saw my only hope.
Power.
That was the only escape from the hatred, the mockery, the humiliation that bound me in chains. With power, I wouldn't need their approval. With power, I wouldn't need to bow, or beg, or suffer. With power, I could silence every laugh, every whip, every accusation.
But the truth carved into me deeper than any lash of the whip: I had none.
Snapping out of my thoughts, I quickly shoved the book back into its hiding spot. The sound of footsteps echoed in the hall, steady and sharp. Mother.
Her shadow stretched across the doorway before she appeared, her eyes narrowing the instant she saw me move.
"What are you doing?" she asked, suspicion dripping from her tone.
I forced a shaky smile, clutching my skirt to hide my nervousness. "Um—nothing, Mother. I was just about to make dinner."
She studied me for a moment longer, her gaze like knives pressing into my skin, before finally speaking. "Make sure you don't prepare any for your father. He won't be home tonight. Also—" her lips curled in disdain "—once you're finished, I'm sending you on an errand."
"Yes, Mother. Understood."
She gave a curt nod and turned away, her perfume lingering long after she left. I exhaled slowly, my shoulders sagging. That was… surprisingly calm. Perhaps one of the easiest encounters I'd ever had with her. No shouting, no insults, no mockery. Just commands.
Returning to the kitchen, I rolled up my sleeves and set to work. Tonight I decided on rice and chicken—simple, filling, something even they couldn't complain about.
The kitchen was small, but efficient. At the center sat the magi stove, a staple in every household. It ran on crystals—cheap ones for families like ours, expensive ones for nobles who could afford them. These crystals burned with steady warmth, needing replacement every month or so. Even our cold storage, a drawer carved into the wall, ran on the same crystals. I'd read that the noble kind lasted over a year, humming with power. To me, even that felt like magic.
I cleaned the chicken carefully, rinsing it until the water ran clear. The scent of spices filled the air as the meat began to sizzle, mixing with the earthy aroma of rice steaming in the pot. For two long hours, I worked without pause, my back aching, my hands numb, until finally the food was ready.
I set the table, then went to call them. "Dinner is ready," I said, keeping my voice even.
Mother and my siblings entered, their faces brightening at the smell. They sat around the round dining table, polished just enough to impress visitors but always cold and unwelcoming to me. I took a seat, not too close, keeping a careful distance as I always did.
Mother was the first to speak, her voice syrupy sweet as she turned to Jasailee. "So, my darling, how is the learning academy? What have you been up to?"
"Um…" Jasailee hesitated, her fork clinking against the plate.
My lips twitched. She was stalling.
"Nothing much, Mother," she said finally, her tone airy, fake confidence masking the truth. "Everything is going well. My grades are good, and I'm sure I'll graduate next year along with Jason."
Lies. I knew the truth. Her grades were dreadful—barely scraping by. So were Jason's. But of course, Mother would believe them.
Mother's smile widened, pride glowing in her expression. "You two are truly my pride and joy. Jason, you will make a fine knight or guard. Even a normal one makes good coin—and with your strength, you'll surely marry a beautiful woman. And Jasailee, you… oh, you will no doubt wed a noble. With your beauty and intelligence, you'll live a lovely life."
The twins exchanged awkward smiles, nodding like puppets on strings.
Then her gaze slid to me.
"But you…" Her voice dropped, venom seeping into every syllable. "You will forever be single. No life, no husband, no money. Nothing but your filthy, whoring ways. Perhaps one day you'll sell yourself on the streets like the slut you are."
Her words stung, but I refused to bow my head this time. My fists clenched under the table as I spoke, my voice trembling but steady enough. "No, I won't. And I'm not a whore."
The table went silent for a heartbeat. Then Jason slammed his hand against the wood, his voice loud and cruel. "Shut up! Everyone knows you're a disgrace. A filthy slut who shames this family."
"Agreed," Jasailee added quickly, her lips curling in triumph. "You're so useless. So stupid."
Stupid? I bit back a bitter laugh. If only they knew. Jasailee was nothing more than a painted doll—blonde hair, brown eyes, a small delicate face. She was adored for her beauty, but beneath it, she was shallow. She was the one sneaking behind closed doors with men, not me.
I opened my mouth to strike back, but stopped. What was the point? No matter what I said, they would twist it, laugh at it, throw it back at me. So instead, I fell silent, pressing my lips together until they bled.
Mother gave me one last look of satisfaction, as if my silence was her victory, then returned to her food with a smug smile. The room filled with the sound of chewing and clinking utensils, but all I tasted was bitterness.
Deep inside, a vow began to form—quiet, dangerous, unshakable.
One day, the truth would come out. One day, they would choke on their lies.
And on that day, I wouldn't be the one sitting in silence.
As dinner came to an end my siblings retreated to their rooms, smug from another evening of praise. Just as my mother was about to retire, she suddenly turned her sharp gaze toward me and said,
"I need you to go down to Mrs. Penzy's house. Deliver this basket. Don't dawdle, and make sure you behave yourself. Try not to embarrass me for once."
She thrust the basket into my hands without care. Inside were fresh fruits, sweetbread, and a small pouch of herbs—things she would never let me taste. For others, she always gave her best. For me, scraps.
The walk to Mrs. Penzy's house wasn't far, but every step felt like walking to judgment. The woman was known for her sharp tongue, and though my mother acted like they were close friends, I'd overheard her call my mother a "climbing fox" more than once.
When I knocked, the door swung open, and Mrs. Penzy's sharp eyes narrowed the moment she saw me.
"Oh. So she sent you?" Her lips twisted. "The little whore."
My chest tightened at the word. It wasn't the first time I'd heard it whispered in the market. To them, I was always something dirty, something lesser. I forced myself to hand over the basket, my trembling hands betraying nothing but silent fury.
"Well? Don't just stand there gawking. Run along back to your mother." She snatched the basket from me, her eyes filled with something between disgust and pity. The door slammed in my face before I could breathe another word.
The night air was cold as I turned away, the sting of her words clinging to me like a second skin. I wanted to scream, but instead I bit down hard on my lip until the metallic taste of blood spread across my tongue.
Halfway home, I collided with someone. Hard. My shoulder throbbed. I stumbled back, ready to mutter an apology, but the man I had run into was already staring at me.
Tall. Dressed in a long dark cloak. His eyes glinted like embers beneath the shadow of his hood. For a moment, he studied me—not like I was worthless, not like I was an inconvenience, but like I was something curious. Something important.
"...Interesting."
The word rolled from his tongue in a low voice before he stepped aside and walked off, leaving me frozen in the middle of the path. My heart hammered against my ribs. Who was he? And why would someone like him bother to notice me at all?
I stood there until the night breeze stung my skin and reminded me that if I lingered too long, my mother would lash me with her tongue. So I forced my legs forward, carrying myself home.
As expected, she barely spared me a glance when I entered.
"Took you long enough," she muttered, waving me off like a servant. "Go to your room. Don't let me see your face again tonight."
I obeyed without protest. My "room" was nothing but four wooden walls and a cracked window, with no bed, a cut up blanket—only the cold floor that bruised my body every night. I sank onto it, curled up, and stared at the ceiling.
The word echoed in my mind.
Interesting.
Why had he said it? Why me?
I hugged my arms tighter around myself, but despite the ache in my bones, my lips twitched into the faintest smile as I fell asleep.