“I often wondered what you did when you hid from work,” her mother drawled while Ansgarde stood on the balcony, kneading the edge of a curtain absentmindedly. Spinel took off as soon as she noticed her guest. Ansgarde didn’t blame her but wished she had the same option.

Anselma’s wings, tense even when folded, rose and fell with her heavy breaths. “You slack off with work. You don’t spend time with your family. You don’t socialize like a respectable Empyreal. I worried about your future, and I worry more now that I know the truth of what you do in your spare time.”

Ansgarde wondered how her mother could have found out about the unsanctioned trips to Lower Heliodor and considered an array of explanations. She could play a fool and say she accidentally crossed the midpoint and was pulled down by gravity, but pride sealed her lips shut.

“I hoped you were sneaking out to meet with a nice lad.” Mother’s dry chuckle turned her stomach. “You are the last unbonded female of your generation. Males should be fighting for your attention, but you’re always unavailable.”

Ansgarde focused on not rolling her eyes. Mother hated that as much as Ansgarde hated hearing the “it’s time to bond” speech. Her father insisted that love would find her when she least expected it, but she was starting to doubt it. She met all unbonded males by now - her mother ensured it. Upper Heliodor Empyreals were as attractive as wet socks.

“And then I find this.”

Anselma pulled out a scroll that Ansgarde immediately recognized. She swallowed and tried to not show her fear. Mother didn’t read it, did she? She disliked fantasy scrolls. Why would she pick up that hobby now?

“This is what you do with your time.” Anselma unrolled the scroll.

Ansgarde wanted to rip it out of her hands. Sadie’s Quest to the Cloud Empire was her best story yet. The research alone had taken her years. She was close to finishing, but it wasn’t ready, and it was never meant to be read by her mother.

Anselma raised her eyebrows and started reading in a tone of fake excitement.

Princess Sadie bowed to the ancient dragon, and he returned the gesture. She kept her end of the bargain. It was time he granted her wish.

“What is this nonsense, Ansgarde?” Mother raised her voice while Ansgarde’s heart hammered in her chest. “Dragons? Kingdoms in the sky? You are not a princess, nor are you a warrior. I blame your grandfather, may Tiamat soothe his spirit, for filling your head with pointless tales when you were a spawn. There is no place for that in this family. If I catch you wasting your time on this again...”

She held the edges of the parchment as if worried they’d stain her fingers, then she ripped it in half.

“No!” Ansgarde cried out and tried to catch the broken halves of the tale she had labored on, but Mother swept them away from her.

“I’m doing this for your own good. It is time you grew out of spawnhood fantasies, Ansgarde. You’re substituting real-life with dreams. It is ruining your life.”

As the first tears blurred Ansgarde’s vision, her mother stood up and straightened a crinkle in her tunic. Her voice lost the icy tone.

“One day you will bear the weight of your household’s future on your shoulders and will understand the hard decisions that have to be made in their interest. It is called being an adult.”

And she walked away, taking the ruined scroll with her.

Ansgarde fell on her knees and cried after her mother but knew that it was of no use. There was no arguing when Anselma decided something. She never told her that she wanted to be a writer. She kept her stories secret, knowing Mother would not approve of the craft, but it was a harmless hobby. Why did she have to be this cruel?

Sadie’s story was epic. It was beautiful. It made her laugh. It made her cry. Whenever she wanted to escape, she dived into the life of a hero she would never be and made her dreams come true. Mother was never supposed to have found out.

She cried to the moon and the stars, begged them for a miracle, to turn back time, make it so it didn’t happen. She cried until she had no more tears left to shed and her head ached. She cried until she accepted her loss.

It was time to let go.