You could live lifetimes, see more things than any man ever could, but you would still find that the most marvelous times are those moments that change your whole world in the span of seconds. I used to think that my life would be whittled away, reduced to dust without leaving any impact in memory. I had become content with this fact despite how much I wanted to flourish. I would be gone without a trace, another face that spent a few short years in this world. That was fine.

Then I met him. In an instant, my contention was whisked away by the storm of life he beckoned, a maelstrom of wondrous possibilities to wash away my old life. That first look, the first touch, the first time we spoke. What had been seconds stretched beyond their bounds, forever a part of me as much as my own blood. At that moment, for better or worse, my world was changed, and it was all because of him.

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It was just an ordinary day in autumn, the leaves fading from a vibrant green to a deep red. After the oppressive heat of the past summer, it was a welcomed relief to be free to throw open my windows and let in that crisp breeze. I took a deep breath, letting the scent of fall fill my lungs. Obsidian watched me from the windowsill, his red eyes as glossy and empty as always.

“I just wanted to let in some air. I love autumn, and I want to experience as much of it as possible.” As a leaf fell from one of the trees, drifting to the ground that would soon be littered with warm colors, I heard:

“Why?”

Obsidian’s voice was still a bit off-putting. You would think that it would be high pitched as you hear in cartoons with singing birds. Or since he’s a Grimm, his pitch would be low and gruff. It wasn’t either of those. Instead, it was more like a music note, calm with a melodic undertone. It wasn’t always clear, but if I listened real close, I could almost believe it was a woman talking to me instead of a Grimm.

I petted the feathers between his wings, relaxing at the feel of their familiar softness. “Do you know the story of the Four Maidens?” Obsidian stood still, his voice silent. “I guess not. Long ago, there was an old wizard that isolated himself from the world by grieving in his cabin deep in the woods. One day, a maiden named Winter appeared, meditating outside his window. When he asked what she was doing, she introduced herself, saying she was waiting for her sisters Later, another maiden arrived, this one named Spring. She tended to the wizard’s abandoned garden and rickety cabin. Next came Summer, drawing the wizard out of his cabin into the warm sun. The four of them then harvested the crops Spring had planted and prepared a feast, which was when Fall, the next sister, arrived. She showed the Wizard how much he had and how lucky he was. In thanks for their company and helping him, the Wizard gifted them with his power so that they may change the world for the better. Are you following so far?”

Obsidian stayed silent, so I took that as a yes. “My mother used to tell me that story. She told me how much she appreciated the girl representing fall. When I asked her why she told me how important she was. Fall is the time to look back, to reflect on everything that came before it would be wiped clean by snow. It was when you could make the decision on how you can move forward the next year. Fall is the focal point, both the beginning and the end. Whenever fall comes back, it makes me happy to think about her love for this season. It’s like…” Tears stung my eyes as my throat became tight. “It’s like no matter what happens, she’ll be here in some way, reminding me that I have a choice to live my life.”

Sensing my sudden change in mood, Obsidian butted my arm with his head, chirping reassurance. The sight made my heart lift. “Thanks, buddy.”

A loud buzz broke me from the moment. Setting Obsidian on my shoulder, I walked across my small cabin to pick up my Scroll from my pile of books. I opened the screen to see a notification from my father.

Come to my office.

Fear dug in its hooks as I read the short message. What had I done? I’d finished my chores early and dinner wasn’t for another hour. Did I forget anything? Did Deino and Enyo accuse me of something? Is he mad? He never wants me to see him unless he’s mad! What is it?

A tug of my hair drew me out of my worry. Obsidian nuzzled my cheek affectionately. I stroked his head absently. “I’ll be back,” I told him, and to myself.

Obsidian flew off my shoulder to his basket by the small hearth. With one last look at him, I opened the door and stepped out. The air, perfectly cool minutes earlier, felt so bitterly cold. The colors were dull as I passed underneath the fading branches. The familiar path to the house seemed to pass in an instant. Down a hall and another, twisting and turning in the mansion’s numerous corridors. One hall over from my father’s office, I paused at a door.

The wood was a pretty red, faint and comforting, with soft tones of orange. Chiseled onto the surface was a tree, it’s branches left with only a few leaves clinging to them. This was my mother’s door, her personal emblem carved from her use of her Semblance. Beyond it was my favorite room in the mansion. The one I hadn’t been in since my mother passed.

Before she died, I was still young enough to creep into her bed in the middle of the night because I had been frightened by a nightmare. My mother, no matter how tired she was, would embrace me, comfort me. Her voice would lull me to sleep with a story or a song. I’d always felt safe in her room, but without her to fill it with her love, the room felt heavy. Gone was the comfort, the safety. My mother had taken those with her into the ground.

I turned the final corner, wishing uselessly that one day she would throw open the doors, finally waking after years of slumber, and fix everything. Instead, I knocked on my father’s door and walked inside after he sounded his approval.

The office was bleak. Where my mother loved warm colors, my father kept bland ones close. Gray walls surrounded me, nothing to adorn them or break the monotony. The only furnishing was my father’s desk against the opposite wall. The surface held perfectly organized stacks of files, a monitor where my father would type out reports, and vials holding samples of Dust. My father looked at me as I entered. “She’s here.”

For a second, I thought he had spoken to me. Then I noticed the man standing against the wall. If my father invited someone into his office, then they had to be important. The man was younger than my father, probably only a couple of years out of school. He was tall, probably a head above my father. His posture told me that he was wealthy with his squared shoulder and straight back, yet relaxed as he watched me. His suit was dark green, his tie just a few shades lighter. Hair cut short to regulation and the Atlas pin on his chest practically screamed his position in the military. The scabbard and pistol on his belt, however, were not that of military weaponry. A Huntsman, then. His features were sharp, with olive eyes that captured your attention.

“Greet our guest,” my father barked. I said hello and welcomed the unfamiliar man to our home. “This is Keane Chartreuse, a member of one of the most prestigious families in Atlas. Keane, my daughter.” The venom my father put in that world stung me, my heart breaking along hardly stitched faults.

Keane left his spot along the wall and approached me. His pace was leisurely, a man that does things at his own speed. Keane looked me over from head to toe. Seemingly pleased, Keane gave me a small nod and the ghost of a smile. “Your father tells me you’re training to be a Huntress. How is that faring?”

The question itself was almost jarring. No one ever asked me about my life, much less some stranger. “My education and training have been well. Recently, my teachers constructed a-”

“That’s enough,” Keane interrupted. The rest of my story died on my tongue. “I meant how do you stand among your peers.”

Oh. My brief joy fell back into shadows. “I am the top of my class in both combat and classwork. Along with that-”

“What are you skilled in?” Keane broke in again.

I bit my tongue and followed his question. “I perform most proficiently with close-range combat, favoring dual-wielded swords. But I'm also a top-rate archer. I supplement my fighting style with Dust, mostly Fire, but should be able to accommodate Orange.”

Keane clicked his tongue. “What are your plans for the next level of your education?”

My response was easy; my plans were one of the only things that excite me nowadays. “I pass the criteria for any Academy in the Kingdoms. I planned to go to Atlas, but Haven is also a choice I’ve puzzled.”

“How about control of your Aura?” Keane continued to question, nodding slightly with each response.

“I was deemed a master of Aura control, projection, recovery, durability, and all other fields earlier this year. I tested above most beginning Huntsmen during my first year of school.”

At this, Keane turned away from me and to my father, who nodded in agreement. The Atlesian seemed satisfied with my answers. His next question was directed at my father. “Mr. Porpoise, how would you describe her mannerisms?”

My father looked past Keane and at me, only for a second, before returning his gaze to the guest. “My daughter is obedient and follows the rules put out for her without complaint. Admittedly, there have been a few incidents where she acted out. However, the incidents were brief and minor and quickly rectified. She would fit the proposal quite well.”

A sinking feeling grew in my stomach. It wasn’t how my father described me as an object, the pain of that faded years ago, but it was how they were discussing me. The thought of what this proposal made my skin crawl.

“And what might her Semblance be?”

I felt the knife turn before my father’s eyes clouded over. After years

and years of training, my Semblance had yet to manifest. When my stepmother had unlocked my stepsisters’ Auras, they had found their Semblances within weeks. Even though my mother had done the same ritual with me a few years earlier, there was still nothing. I practiced and focused, using every assortment of weapons and fighting style in school, but nothing came out of it. I could wield blades, arrows, Dust, and Aura better than anyone my age, but I still lacked the most important piece for a Huntress.

Keane picked up on this without having one of us voice it. “Still undiscovered, I see.” He chuckled deep in his throat, just once. “Rest assured, Mr. Porpoise, that this won’t be an issue. After all, her other skills seem to compensate for this fault. Besides, this might make management easier.”

My father seemed relieved, a rare sight for me to see. “That is good to hear, Chartreuse. I apologize for my daughter’s lacking, but it is something that I cannot rectify. If you say that it won’t break our arrangement, then I assume you found everything satisfactory?”

“I did,” Keane replied. “I believe this should work out perfectly.”

My father smiled. “Perfect. We’ll arrange the terms of the wedding and what comes after.”

...What?...