The sun was probably already up high when I woke up that afternoon—yes, afternoon, don't judge. Hard to describe the weather outside when the sky looked like wet wool and cold air bit at your nose. Winter was finally showing face. Personally I loved winter, except it came with snow—lots of it around here.
"Brr..." A shiver coated me. Then I noticed the brooch in my lazy grip, its red gem pulsing softly.
I'd overslept—again. I laid there a while, listening to the manor hum—alive. Talks in the surrounding gardens, some giggles. And gossip—So much gossip.
{Old habits really do die hard} I sighed.
Eloria was recovering well enough—if you squinted. Houses rebuilt, new faces settled in, Streets were busy again — carts rolling, markets reopening, laughter returning in fragments. And the sound of hammering had become the city's public lullaby.
The Hampton Manor, however still a flattering sight to behold, was... not fine. Maybe it was—if fine meant nobly broke but too proud to admit it.
We were kinda sorta maybe under threat.
The Vessels were talking. Always talking. Whispering with the smug tone of men who thought they'd earned the right to meddle. They couldn't do anything—in the open. But anyone with half a wit could tell they were circling the House.
Not to seize it—no, they had no rights—but just to nibble, at the edges. To get their fingers in the guilds, the merchants, the trade veins that fed Hampton's wealth.
And we couldn't afford that. Not now.
We were still comfortable, yes — comfortable enough to dine on silver and sleep warm — but not so rich we could tolerate leeches. Between the war taxes, generous donations to the crown, and merchants suddenly developing allergies to fair trade, our coffers were wheezing. Rebuilding of the city wasn't help either. Added to feeding the new faces I mentioned—near land refugees. While still somehow pretending we're still the picture of nobility. One false deal, one friendly compromise, and half of Eloria would be sold under our feet.
If Father was around we wouldn't have much to worry about. Me at least.
But with him gone, that leave Rosie, Carl, and me. Except I was the only one who thought I counted.
"You've been neglecting your mother's garden. You sleep all day! You need to get your act together, young lady!" Rosie had a whole arsenal of excuses, all aimed precisely at keeping me out of the loop.
And Carl—poor Carl—he was even worse.
"Ah… my lady," he'd stammer, dabbing sweat from his forehead, "you need not concern yourself with the accounts or logistics of the manor. It's no bother for me." Then he'd smile, shut the door, and end the discussion right there.
In my face.
{Not a lying bone in that one's body}
Even Theo had gone off, practically glued to Baron Harland's hip. Learning all about his noble youth.
Leaving me—Alone. With my thoughts, and far, far too much time.
I sighed, turning the brooch over in my palm. The red gem caught the light, flickering faintly—like a heart. "I wonder what he's up to."
Boredom can be dangerous. Especially for people like me, lots of intrusive thoughts —lots.
But I had Father's vague reports to keep me company at night. The relic was actually very reliable—just like a cell call, just one that never had bad connection.
It had been two months since the march.
Two months since he and the others rode off in that wave of banners, promises, worry.
Two months of… nothing really.
Later, during my endless leisure—I found myself in the drawing room, sitting across from Baron Harland—grandfather, I don't know why, but he's always just being a happy old man to me—from what I understood grandparents to be. He sat in title and temperament both. The tea between us steamed gently.
"Baron Harland," I began, "shouldn't you be in Althais by now? It's been… what, two months?"
He looked up from his cup with that knowing smile. "And miss watching my grandchildren grow? Never."
I arched a brow. "Oh?, I thought maybe you were taking a liking to ordering Carl around. "
He chuckled,"He is very entertaining, even in his old age."
{Says the one who doesn't act his age} I thought, sipping tea,
"But," he continued, "I enjoy spending time with you all. You mostly." ruffling my hair like I was five.
I fixed my hair, face down. I felt my eyes shimmer, they'd betrayed me—as usual "Please don't do that again."
Then I stood, balancing my cup on the tray, and started toward the door.
Behind me, he sighed—a fond one, almost hidden under his breath.
«She must've gotten that from me.»
I froze.
Turning slowly, I met his gaze. He looked up, puzzled.
"Hmm? Did you forget something?"
"…Did I hear that right?" I asked, voice barely above a whisper.
He tilted his head. "Hear what?"
I blinked. Once. Twice. My pulse picked up, my fingers tightening around the tray.
{There was no way I just heard his thoughts. Right? }
So instead of answering, I did what any sane, definitely-not-panicking girl would do. I smiled.
Then I walked away as calmly as possible—And tripped over absolutely nothing halfway to the door.
"Graceful as ever," Harland chuckled.
I didn't look back. I was either losing my mind…
Or something inside me had just woken up.
Or I was still sleeping—and this was just a weird dream?. Maybe.
.><><><.
I woke up on my study table. Again.
Paper clung to my cheek like a desperate lover. I peeled it off, blinking at the mess of ink and crumbs that was apparently my workspace. A yawn—graceful, obviously—slipped out as I stretched.
Across the room, Gia and Mia were asleep on the chaise longue, curled up like cats under their blankets. The space between them—empty. That's where Theo had slept.
"Where'd he go…" I muttered, rubbing my eyes.
The fire-lit gems were just crystal-ash now, their glow long gone. Sunlight bled faintly through glass.
A year—it had already been a year since the march. Baron Harland had gone back to Althais months ago, leaving behind a quieter house and an even quieter breakfast table.
Then came -knock, knock-
"Come in," I said, hand over mouth—stifling another yawn.
Lauren entered—Emily's younger sister. She was nothing like her sister. sharper, and moved with that same count-every-siver focus she had when we first met. Apart from their—soft charcoal hair, and moss-green eyes. Nothing about her reminded me of Emily. That chirping bird.
Lauren carried a tray of morning drinks, balancing it like a veteran maid—she'd only been here a few weeks.
"The young master said to bring you these, my lady," she said, setting it down gently.
"Theo?" I asked, sitting up. "Where's he off to so early?"
Her thoughts brushed against mine, as she side-eyed me
«How do you not know.»
I blinked at her. "Not know what?"
"I keep telling you not to read my thoughts!" She panicked.."my lady.. forgive me." Bowing deeply,
"It's alright," straightening in my chair, before continuing. "but it's not my fault, if you don't want your leaking out, then shut the door."
"It's your birthday today," she said, like a mumble.
"Oh." I replied by instinct.
Right.
That explained why they were so adamant to spend the night here, and probably whatever chaos Theo was orchestrating downstairs. He probably wanted to wish me first.
I leaned back in my chair, running a hand through my hair. "He's gonna erupt when he finds out you wished me first"
Lauren looked up at me " No I didn't. I just reminded you it's your birthday."
" You ruined his surprise."
Her mind flickered again, quick and unguarded—
«Stop trying to read my mind»
"...I promise I'm not" I laugh.
At first, I actually did think I was losing my mind.
Not exactly because I was reading minds—it was that I didn't cast anything. In this world, thoughts didn't just spill into your head without a spell to pull them. No rune. No chant. No catalyst. Yet there I was, hearing people think about their lunch choices.
No one knew it was… organic. They just assumed I was practicing. Studying. I had my—bookworm, curious, probably dangerous reputation to thank. It worked well enough as a cover.
Even so, mind reading was considered a tricky spell. Only proper mages with considerable focus could access it without either going abit mad, or drain their influence socket dry. I still had no explanation for why mine felt normal—that's not quite the right word, but you get it.
After discovering the ability, I tried to see if I had others. You know, the classic checklist—invulnerability, flight—except I wasn't that desperate to end up a splatter on the courtyard floor.
So I went for safer trials: invisibility, levitating objects, maybe bending a spoon or two.
Nothing. Not a single ripple of magic besides the whispering minds around me.
So, I filled my bored teenage time with... Well, teenage rebellion. Sneaking into Carl's office after hours, borrowing documents I definitely wasn't supposed to see. War updates, merchant logs, letters stamped with House seals—it was addictive, learning everything they didn't want me to.
Everyone except Lauren—my so-called partner in crime—and my siblings were banned from my room and study. To keep my Secrets, safe ....-ish.
Thoughts. Plans. Discoveries.
.><><><.
The gown lay draped across my bed like a stolen part of spring. Layers of pale mint silk cascaded into soft—sheer folds, blooming with embroidery of white florals and tiny glimmering threads that caught light like morning dew. The bodice—laced in soft shimmer and draped off the shoulders. A unique look, too much flare—but still simple.
I crossed my arms, staring down at it. "How'd you manage to pay for this?"
Gia perked up. "We all pitched in a little, just a few Aurels."
"Forty-eight pieces with the discount," Mia added proudly.
But little Theo scratched the back of his neck, half-guilty. "I wanted to have it sewn, but… surprise deadlines and all." His voice dropped. "Sorry."
"It's fine," I said, brushing my hand over the gown's soft edge. "It's really pretty. I just thought—since it's this pretty—you might've had some illegal dealings."
Mia snorted. "You aren't so far from the truth."
"Shut up." Gia hissed, Mia gave a small "hmp.."
From the washroom, Lauren's voice carried out, calm and efficient as ever. "Everything's ready for you, my lady."
"Oh, right." I turned to go, but Theo caught my arm.
He looked up at me with a deliberately tragic expression of his—half pout. "You're supposed to give me a reward for every gift, remember?"
That deal was made months ago—his idea, of course. One kiss to the forehead for every kind gesture, so I'd get used to giving appreciation—he was thinking too much for his age. It was ridiculous, but as usual, I made him happy. That's all that mattered.
I sighed, smiling despite myself. Then leaned down and pressed a light kiss to his head. "See you downstairs, Theo."
He beamed. Gia immediately gasped, clutching her heart like she'd just witnessed a scandal. "Aww…"
Mia gave me a flat look. "So now we just don't exist, or what?"
I glanced at them over my shoulder, smirking. "I'll meet you all, downstairs." before turning "now get out."
My birthday was a smashing success—everything I'd ever hoped for.
No balloons, no fanfare. Just servants acting as guest, and one candle sitting warm and lonely on a cake that looked far too creamy for my taste but smelled—surprisingly—of honey and mint.
Everyone crowded around like we were performing some sacred ritual and not just guarding the flickering light.
"Iris, only wish for something you really, really want," Gia said, eyes glowing like this was life or death.
"Or just blow the candle out," Mia muttered.
For once, I actually did have a wish in mind.
Just… this. A whole house.
Then—whoosh. The flame joined wind and vanished, and everyone clapped—like I'd just saved the empire.
What else could a girl ask for?
The cake looked harmless enough. Until I took a bite. Sweet. Tangy. Warm. With a sharp hint of mint lingering like a purpose secret.
"How?"
Theo's grin was pure mischief.
"The chef's been experimenting with tanginess for months!" Gia declared.
"To suit your ....exquisite taste, my lady," the chef added, bowing with theatrical modesty.
And that—that did me in.
No thought, no warning—just a rush of something too big to hold back. I leaned down and kissed Theo's cheek.
He froze mid-blink. "Wh—what was that for?"
"Appreciation," I said smiling— genuinely, pretending my heart wasn't running laps.
Gia gasped like she'd witnessed a romantic confession.
Lauren pressed a hand to her heart.
Mia groaned. "Can someone sedate my eyes so go blind now?."
But all I felt was warmth. Laughter. Family.
For the first time, I let it all in—the noise, the love, the unguarded joy, our tiny, stupid moments.
Then it hit me—
In Theo's endearing eyes. Mia's shy glances, sometimes. Gia's exceptional honesty.
How they stayed.
Through my clod silence, uneven expressions and walls. They'd never asked me to step out of my safe space, never asked me to smile more. They just... stayed, loved me. For me.
Theo was still gaping at me when I nudged his chin up. "Don't cry, it's not even over yet."
That did it. Laughter broke loose again—
and this time, I laughed with them.
I realized I'd being surviving love, measuring and rationing it, a plan A to Z. Because I was scared, scared that it would cost me more this time.
But love's not a debt. It wasn't something that commanded. It's exceptional. Sacrificial.
It was this. Everything the Hamptons were. Warm Loud. Stupid. Alive
So quietly, I let it go. Stopped guarding, the walls just fazed. And it felt.... light.
.><><><.
Later, when the sun begun to dip, brushing gold over the courtyard windows. The party was thinning out, the maids were clearing plates, Gia was scolding Mia and Theo—who were arguing over icing.
I'd laughed until my cheeks hurt. My chest felt full in a way I never knew it could. Not even in my past.
So when Lauren insisted I "My lady, you should rest before dinner," I didn't argue. I needed a quiet moment—to just feel all of it.
Upstairs, was peaceful enough. The laughter below softened into a hum.
When I stepped into my room, that same warmth followed me—still sitting under my skin. I caught sight of myself in the mirror. My eyes—glowing faintly pink, a roselight shade. The color of all unfortunate things. Love, apparently.
I almost rolled my eyes at it. Almost.
But then, something caught my eye—My jewelry box, pulsing red. I opened it, and as I'd thought.
The brooch—the one father gave me—shown warmly.
That familiar, steady rhythm.
He must've been trying to reach me.
I picked it up and slid my thumb over the crest. "Hello, Father?"
Silence.
The brooch stayed warm in my hand,
"Father?, are...you there?" I tried again, softer this time. " That's strange."
Something cracked faintly on the other end—like a branch snapping. Then nothing.
My chest tightened even before I realized. He was still at the frontlines.
{What if something—}
"No. No," I breathed. He wouldn't go down that easily.
"Father, are you there?"
Still nothing. The glow didn't flicker. Didn't fade. Just kept burning—calm, constant, stubborn.
I swallowed, gripping it carefully.
The warmth from it clung to my skin, but the air in the room had gone cold.
"..."