She has the exact likeness of Selene. Save for her olive-toned skin, the youthful glint in her deep blue eyes, and what’s more, the breath of life in her. The young woman in question balances on the balls of her feet, rocking onto her toes, as she reaches for a leather-bound journal. From her view down on the floor, in the dark room, the journal appears to at the very least look similar to Selene’s. The very same one that she and her sisters have been looking for - for weeks now. Her fingertips claw at the binding of the book, nearly causing her to fall when she is unable to grip the book to pull it down.

It’s late. Or is it early? It’s been hours since Andromeda was last able to gauge the time of day by barely glancing out the window beside her. All she knows is that one glance out the windows allows her to see the sky enveloped in a velvety darkness, nothing else visible but shadows and the blue-tinged twilight.

Nevertheless, one thing is certain. It is much, much later than Andromeda had anticipated staying up. Time had run away from her - an occurrence that had been becoming more frequent in the past few weeks. Andromeda abandons the hauntingly beautiful view outside the large windows, in favor of the chair positioned beside the very same window she’d been gazing out mere moments before.

Andromeda instinctively pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, trying to figure out how to get up to the book without alerting her sisters. She recalls her evening promise to the pair of sisters, how she had guaranteed to be in bed at a reasonable time, at the very least in her room. Clearly, her sisters were catching onto her unhealthy coping mechanisms. With a sigh, she pushes the small wave of guilt away for breaking her own promise.

She lifts back up onto her toes, attempting to get a better look at the bookshelf she’s been reaching for. No matter how hard she might try, there’s no way she can stifle the groan that she responds with, upon realizing that the journal - is most certainly not Selene’s. It’s not the centuries - hell - eons-old spellbook that Selene had been given by her mother, as was the tradition in witch customs.

It’s leather-bound and even has nearly identical golden-bronze foil that Selene’s spellbook has always been covered in for as long as Andromeda can remember, not that her memory was always correct, nor complete. The only object missing from the journal, proving that it is far from the correct book, is the center, embossed semi-precious crystal. Andromeda recalls how she had seen the closed journal on the table one morning, remembering how the crystal caught the sunlight and sent it in hundreds of different directions, making the room warmer as she had felt as though she were freezing.

Andromeda can’t help but feel her veins flood with absolute ire, her head dropping into her hands as she sags onto the couch a few feet away from her. The cold draft blowing in from an open window somewhere in the house swallows her. The fine hairs on the back of her neck and on her arms quickly rise, Andromeda, shuddering momentarily in response.

Earlier the cold air might have made her rush to her room to get warm. Instead, she realizes, the cold is no longer bothering her. There’s nowhere else the damned spellbook could be. They had already lost the most important thing that was in Selene’s possession. She feels her jaw automatically tense, clenching in frustration, fists tightening as well.

She suddenly begins to feel a wave of exhaustion take over, most likely from the pent up frustrations she has kept from what little of her family that remains. She is nearly certain that the complexity of the sudden waves of emotions have to be caused by the different relationship she had with Selene compared to either one of her other sisters. For once, Andromeda welcomes sleep with nearly open arms. Just for a moment. She thinks to herself, knowing that the second her eyes shut, she will slip away into an obscure, muscle-aching slumber.

***

“She’s still making a mess out there, isn’t she?” Cressida mutters to her twin, keeping her eyes closed, trying not to allow herself to fully wake up just yet. She can still sense the jet black darkness resting just outside of the window, knowing that once she blinks the sleep from her eyes, that she won’t be able to easily fall back asleep for some time. The only response she gets from her sister is a few grumbles and the reminder to leave her alone muttered under her breath. Cressa can’t help but let out a soft laugh, but it’s not a light-hearted one. She can just about feel the anger radiating off of their sister through the walls of their one-room, hoping that the intensity might die down soon so she might get some real sleep soon.

She knows just how Andromeda is feeling right now. She feels the need to prove herself, she feels the need to find their mother’s book all on her own. Cressida twirls a few already curly strands of red hair around her index finger, concentrating deeply on her own racing thoughts.

She can’t help but wonder what would happen if Andromeda actually managed to find the oldest piece of magic within the manor that they had practically torn apart searching for. Is it possible? Could it mean something? Would she be the one who has to open it first? What if someone else finds it and she is meant to, and opens it first? Cressida grits her teeth, trying to ignore the swift thoughts passing by in her head, attempting in earnest, to fall back asleep.

The most she manages to do before the sun starts streaming through the parted blinds across the room is to pull the blankets over her head as if she were a child, and roll over onto her stomach, squeezing her eyes shut - willing herself back to sleep. 

***

Viper isn’t genuinely asleep, nowhere near the calm darkness of dreams and harmonious memories. She hasn’t been all night, unlike her twin - who appears able to sleep through nearly anything and everything. Not because of her younger sister stressfully searching for their late mother’s magical journal, but because of deafening thoughts that grow louder with each passing second, making her feel the need to slam the pillow over her ears.

She can hear the springs of her twin sister’s mattress beside hers, as she tosses and turns, making Viper wonder if she might be having the same sleeping problem as she currently is. She’s about to open her mouth to call out through the darkness of their shared room. She quickly thinks better of that decision, realizing it might be more of a disturbance to try to talk to her sister, however softly, when the springs finally stop creaking.

Viper doesn’t realize she’s been holding her breath until she finally exhales just as her twin falls silent once more herself. She wishes that she could block out the dark thoughts just as everyone else around her appears to be able to do. Finally, she decides to simply give up, sitting upright in her bed, combing her fingers through her silky, straight hair that sits just above the nape of her neck.

***

When Andromeda is roused from her shockingly soothing rest, the first view her eyes adjust to is of her two older sisters in the same room as her. The only difference is that they’ve clearly been awake for some time, and they sit ladylike at an antique table in the center of the room, the legs of the table and the chairs digging into the aged rug beneath them. Not surprisingly, Viper’s hair is calm, undoubtedly taking mere moments to brush out, having it rest so short on her neck, unexpectedly blonde compared to just about every family member they had ever met.

Her hands are folded delicately onto the table, as she locks eyes with her twin. Cressida’s hair definitely must have taken a great deal longer than Viper’s. With her auburn-coppery hair that just so happens to also be thick, and twice as curly. Her hair rests against the middle of her back, swinging a bit when she lifts her arm to elbow Viper.

With a second soft nudge from her twin, Viper clears her throat, gesturing towards Andromeda, to join them. Now they all perch around the same centuries-old table that has been in the same place in their house their entire lives. Viper glances down and watches as sunlight hits the table just right; bringing out the aging scars brought about by the three of them as children. Some are complete carvings into the underside of the dark and mismatched wood stains, others are simple permanent ink spills from over the years that their mother had been unable to get to in time.

Viper has to exhale slowly to help re-focus her attention. It is far too early for this bullshit. She absentmindedly traces each of their initials underneath the table

“We have an obligation to find that book. Whether or not it gets buried with Selene. We must work together, or else we may never find it - certainly not in the length of time we currently are working with. We have to be willing to start as early as possible. We have to find it before Eleanor arrives.”

“I stayed up all night in here rummaging around, I about knocked the entire bookcase onto myself and would have if I wasn’t careful. If that book was still in this manor, on a single acre of this land, don’t you think we might have at least found some sort of clue that she would leave behind? You know that she was expecting her death, it’s the one vision she could never see, same as when we were children.”

Cressida and Viper exchange a glance, full of both worry and fear, but also with the thinnest layer of optimism and hope. Andromeda looks at them confused, and they quickly turn their attention back to her, hoping that she might not have noticed the silent conversation occurring between the two.

“Selene would never have left a power vacuum this strong - not on purpose. You know how protective of the family magic and heirlooms she was. She must have left it with someone else,” Andromeda insists, leaning her forearms onto the table. Viper fights the urge to tell her to take her elbows off the table, a rule she has always found to be odd. All Viper can appear to think of is everything and anything that she wants to tell Andromeda, but doesn’t know it would be safe enough to let her know about her history.

Selene might be dead now, but that doesn’t mean that everything can just change with a snap of her or anyone else’s fingers. Not until they find out which of them is the rightful heir, and in order to do that, they have to find the gods-damned book. Viper feels her chest tighten at the idea of telling her everything, of helping her remember everything, and the relief that would finally wash over all three of them, the tension is finally gone. Yet, she is roughly pulled from her fantasy by the conversation continuing.

“Who else could she possibly send it to? She specifically outlined in the will that we were to have possession of the journal.” Cressida is the only one to respond to Andromeda’s inquiry. Viper sits there quietly, looking back and forth between the two sisters, not wanting to interject just yet.

“We’re not her only family. Eleanor herself is coming. She’s made sure that the entire town is aware, and then some, of her looming presence. She’s up to something, that we know thus far. What if she has the book?” Andromeda retorts, already impatient, pushing herself up from the table.

“What are you insinuating?”

“I’m simply suggesting that perhaps our aunt has access to the book, and that’s why she never came for either the funeral or the will reading because she knew she would have to give us the journal at some point.”

“Then why come now?”

“Something must have changed.”

Viper runs her fingers through her surprisingly short hair, finger grazing the back of her neck as her hands fall from her hair, thinking, and worrying. It’s finally no longer an ungodly hour of the morning. Andromeda notices this and leaves without another word - to get ready for the day, so she might be able to make a trip to town.

She throws her closet doors open wide, taking no more than a few inhales to find the dress she plans to wear, or rather, tunic. She takes it, and tosses it onto the bed, knowing to curb Viper’s motherly concerns and tendencies, that she’ll still have to wear a corset underneath. Why can they never make these laces be in the front of the corset? Why make life so much more complicated than it needs to be?

The more that she gazes at the soft fabric of the casual men’s garment, the more that she longs to touch it, to feel it hanging off her body, wishing that women could get garments such as that. Her thoughts grow scattered quickly, no train of thought in sight as the telltale sound of someone walking to a stand outside of her bedroom door can be heard. A few moments later, and there’s a knock at her door.

Andromeda sighs, as she begins to button up her tunic, from bottom to top, thankfully in the front, unlike her corset. How she had managed to tie the laces on her own she has no clue, she’s only been able to a few times. She pulls her hair all onto one side so that it can’t get in the way. She quickly follows the movement by pulling her hair off of her neck, and into a small piece of ribbon. One more glance at her reflection in the mirror, and she goes to answer the door.

“Viper, what are you doing here?” Andromeda asks, confused and startled, as to finding her sister standing mere inches in front of her. Viper looks her up and down, lips pressing into a thin line. Andromeda can nearly see the worry lines creasing in her sister’s forehead.

“I need to ask you to do something for me.” Viper doesn’t wait very long, if at all, before going and sitting on the bed, leaving Andromeda in the doorway of her bedroom. Andromeda frustratingly presses her lips together, gesturing for her to continue what she had to ask her.

“Go on.”

“Take Cressida with you,” she insists, gesturing back to the door she came through. She then pulls out a small leather pouch, the initials obvious, yellow embroidered “S,” “A,” and “M.” Selene Andromeda Mejia. Andromeda doesn’t love seeing the all too obvious reminder that Selene had decided to name her after herself in a way or another. Viper shakes the bag so that Andromeda can hear multiple coins clinking within the bag.

“Is that all?” Andromeda responds, incredulous, as Viper pushes the bag into her hands. Viper hesitates at first, wondering if she should bring up the thoughts racing through her mind. She decides against it, at least for the moment, and shakes her head. 

“That’s all for now. Try to be quick, I don’t want to have to worry about you or Cressa catching a cold right now.” Andromeda simply puts the small bag of gold, silver, and bronze coins into the deepest pocket of her coat. She reaches into her other pocket, and tugs on her gloves, as she walks out towards Cressida.