Mother had their bags and Kyré’s cage ready and packed and wouldn’t even let Elia finish breakfast as she pushed them out the door and into the front yard. In his cage, Kyré looked confused and scared as he watched on.

“You dare kick not only your husband of thirty-four years out of his own house, but your youngest daughter as well?” Father hissed. “Have you lost your mind, Kihei?”

“Elá?” Elia called out to her mother worriedly. Her stomach ached as her hands clutched to her own tunic for comfort, grabbing at it like a child.

Mother glanced at her youngest daughter with irritation, looking at her like was nothing more than a total stranger. With blue-violet eyes and a voice as beautiful as a violin, she turned back to Father. “You think I care whether or not she is my daughter, Emory? If she can’t bring in money like she used to, she is of no use to me either. Her Weapon Wielder Coronation isn’t going to be for another two years so no money from the Legislative branch, and in terms of her little inventions, Elia is nothing more than a one-trick pony. She created those glasses to help blind folks see and that was the only one of her inventions that actually sold like hotcakes. The rest are nothing more than a waste of everyone else’s time and won’t ever achieve the same height as those damn glasses. I’m tired of it. Now I want the both of you out in five minutes.” She clapped her dark brown hands together hurriedly. “Come on. Chop-chop. My boyfriend will be arriving shortly.”

Her words cut Elia like a sword to the chest. At first, she was shocked and absolutely at a loss for words but then tears just flowed unabashedly like a hard-hitting tsunami as it ravished a coastal town. I-is that what she truly thinks of me? Elia thought. Honest and true? But I thought she was supportive… But I thought she was supportive…

Tears were in Father’s eyes as well but when he saw how much his wife’s words hurt their daughter, his broken heart erupted with perfervid rage. “And what makes you think I’ll leave with Elia willingly?” he yelled. “You know the type of man I am, Kihei. This house is not just yours, it’s Elia’s and my house too. I’m not going to let you take something that rightfully belongs to my daughter. Don’t be so damn selfish.”

“Oh, I know, Emory. I know how hard-headed you are.” With a smirk, Mother ran out into the concrete street, her black-embroidered icy blue tunic and fur-trimmed dark blue skirt quickly danced as she moved. Surrounded by neighbors’ houses and the looming buildings of Hydra’s eastern capital-island Specie in the distance, she began screaming, “Someone help! Someone, please! Emory’s hurting me! Stop, Emory! Stop! Elia, stop freezing me. It hurts!”

Now seething with anger, Father took a step but Elia held him back. “Let’s go, Elé,” she blubbered. “I… I want to go. Please, I don’t like it here.”

Father hesitantly agreed and the two hurriedly picked up their things and drove to Soránne and Euryale’s house on the other side of Khéll, where the two eventually stayed for a few weeks until the situation settled down and Father decided to take himself and his youngest daughter to his hometown of Galamide in the eastern province of Kríte of the Athesanian mainland.

When Father explained to Soránne everything that night after supper, his eldest daughter grew so furious that tears began to swell. “How dare she toss you two out like your nothing but bags of dirt,” she yelled. “If I was there, I’d like to see her try and throw you two out.” Equally angry, Euryale nodded and declared that Mother would’ve had to go through her dead body if she wanted to kick the two of them out.

Elia remembered just sitting on a cushioned chair and holding onto Kyré as tight as she ever held him in her life. Laying his head on his owner’s shoulder, the kirili protectively wrapped his giant wings around Elia. The repetition of her thumb barely grazing the kirili’s soft underbelly eased her.

Not wanting to worry Father or bring up things he’d prefer to forget, Elia simply batted away the tears and went on to pretend as though nothing was wrong. “The ríkik is good. Thankfully there aren’t a whole lot of vegetables and none of those strange ones Soránne used to buy too. The meat is delicious, and there is a nice ratio between the meat and vegetables and snow bea-”

“Elia,” Father interrupted with a serious tone. “Remember to look at me when you’re talking to me. You’ve been looking up the entire time.”

The young Athesanian Weapon Wielder blinked and suddenly realized she was indeed doing what her father had informed her of doing; her face was turned toward the wall behind him while her eyes were fixated on the ceiling. “Oh.” Then she consciously focused her eyes to her father’s face, his sapphire eyes stared back at hers. Scary, Elia thought, but she forced herself to put up with it. She didn’t want to make her father angry. “Sorry, Elé.”

Father let out a sigh and he placed his hand over hers. Forever inked into his left hand was the deep magenta kigiri tattoo that once symbolized his marriage to Elia’s mother; while it was intricate, it was only half of a whole. When placed alongside Mother’s kigiri, it beautifully depicted Nakoi blessing the two of them on their wedding day, coiling her draconic tail around both their necks and keeping them bound to one another for however long this life shall last. Ever since she was small, Elia always wanted to get her own kigiri after witnessing Soránne and Euryale get theirs just weeks before their marriage. Her kigiri would shine against her heavily-embroidered wedding furs, her magenta threaded braids cascading down her shoulders as she walked towards her future husband… Elia’s wedding day was one of the many things she dreamed of, but now she saw the tattoo on her father’s skin as a cruel reminder. “Don’t say sorry, my snow crystal,” he said gently. “I know you aren’t doing it on purpose, but just try to remember, okay? If you’re looking up while talking to someone, people are going to think your… off. I don’t want that.”

“I know.” Elia said. “I’ll try. Anyway, the stew is done. Here, let me get you a nice chunk of beef and a whole lot of beans. You must be hungry.” She reached for a cup but Kyré bit her finger and squawked, “My cup first! I’m hungrier.”