Her lies began in a country built upon bloodshed and lies – elven leaders denying their slaughters for the sake of civilization. It was no surprise that the product of such a bloody history would be a liar, too, even if she tried to fight it.
There was never any hope for the child of one of the richer families in the capital, not when problems could be bought or blackmailed away. She learned this at the age of twelve, when she was trying to learn to throw knives, only for the silvery blade to impale itself in her father’s portrait.
She had wailed until her mother had found her, and she flinched at the thin, jeweled hand on her shoulder. “We can fix this,” Lady Ravaeri said, her eyes wrinkling with a faint smile. It was not a real one. “When your father comes home, we’ll blame the maid. She’s been slacking, anyway.”
“But she would never do that!”
The mother laughed. “It will be our word against hers.”
–
Thalia awoke with a start, yellow eyes snapping open in the darkness, only to see the white ceiling of the Academy dorms. The gentle glow of the nightlight she kept secret had blown at some point, leaving her alone with her quick gasp of fear, a chill running down her spine like the cold breath of a serus. This always happens. You are just like her.
Someone knocked on her door and she forced herself to swallow her fear, sitting up as the knocking, soft and barely audible, slowed.
“Thalia?” A soft voice whispered from the hall. She tried not to get irritated at just the sound of Elana’s voice, unsure of why it grated her.
That was a lie. She knew exactly why she couldn’t stand Elana, why she hoped that she would just drop out before their team became permanent. She just couldn’t think on the subject without her stomach dropping.
“What,” Thalia said flatly, glaring as Elana opened the door sheepishly. She was still in her pajamas, with bunny slippers peering into the dark room with disturbingly black eyes. Demonic fucking things.
Elana looked to the ground, clasping her too-big sleeves in her hands as she wrapped around herself, though it was not cold enough to be anything but nerves. Or fear. “You were talking in your sleep. You started sounding upset, so I wanted to wake you. Are you okay? I - I know you don’t like me, but you can always talk to me about something that’s bothering you.”
Talk to me, the ghost implored.
I can’t, the little liar shouted.
Thalia shivered, pulling her blanket closer and wanting nothing more than to smother herself in the sheets, though she would never dare do something so pathetic in front of someone. “What, do I need your permission to dream, now?”
Elana flinched. “No! I just - I just wanted to make sure you were okay!”
“I’m fine,” she said flatly. “And I’d like to try to get some sleep before our mission.”
If the truth was obvious, Elana mercied her with silence. “I - okay. Goodnight, Thalia.”
The door was closed but Thalia did not sleep, not until the sky was beginning to turn a dusty purple against the white hot glow of the First Light. Somehow it all failed to be comforting.
“Are you truly so inept that you fail to even accomplish the most basic of arcana?” The black obsidian cigarette holder smacked against her knuckles for the third time, making her falter as she tried to hold her concentration.
The trick was to hold something – that was what everyone had told thirteen-year old Thalia Ravaeri. Hold a pencil out and let go of reality until the pencil was suddenly on fire, or electrified, or whatever else her magic decided to do. The purpose was to activate her ability. It was supposed to be as easy as an optical illusion.
It wasn’t.
Her mother refused to demonstrate for her despite insisting that all Ravaeri descendents possessed magic. It disinterested her to give Thalia a show of beginner spells. Thalia rather thought that her mother simply couldn’t do magic, that maybe her hatred was something like jealousy, of longing.
The lesson ended as all lessons did – with tears threatening to spill over as Thalia threw the pencil to the ground behind her mothers back, wishing that she could disappear and not have to listen to the slew of carefully-concealed insults that always came.
“When your father was your age, he was already rejecting offers from the Academy,” her mother would say. “Perhaps you’ll be able to join as a custodian.”
It changed when she was fourteen and still no magic had surfaced. Her mother’s lessons grew longer, and as more frustration only resulted in more fights, she finally revealed why her status as a mage mattered at all.
“Imagine how I must feel, trying to arrange something for a defective Ravaeri. None in our circle would spare even the worst son for you.”
Thalia always grew nauseous at the subject of marriage, her stomach twisting with nerves for reasons she could not unravel. Perhaps it was merely because she was fourteen and without a true childhood, having to learn all of the mannerisms and trades that came with being uselessly rich. The only freetime she received was when her parents went out for the night for what felt like the fifth goddamned masquerade ball of the month. It was always the same white masks, barely decorated.
When her father was not preparing to go out, his mask hung on his office wall like an omen, its empty eyes peering out into nothing. Thalia always shivered when she looked at it.
“Your mother tells me you do not try hard enough at your lessons,” He said behind his desk, glancing up at her with acid yellow eyes, all warmth having been long since drained and emptied into the liquor cabinet beside him. She stared not at those eyes, but at the torn ear that claws had ripped through long ago. “Is there a reason for this rebellion?”
“I’m trying as hard as I can!” She argued for what felt like the hundredth time. “I just - Maybe it’s just not there. Maybe I was born without magic at all.”
Thalia’s father narrowed his eyes only briefly, leaning back in his swiveling chair. “No, I don’t think that’s the case. I think you just do not understand the importance of the continuation of our legacy.”
“What possible legacy could we have? You never went to the Academy or the military! You just sit around on an inheritance and go to - to balls!” Thalia regretted the words as soon as they left her, but he did not react in anger.
Instead, he looked a little confused. “What balls, my dear?”
She pointed towards the ungodly mask, not wanting to look at it for longer than necessary. “The masquerades…?”
“Ah,” he nodded slowly. “Yes. Those are more than just social events. Should you ever succeed in your lessons, you’ll have the ability to accompany us. As of now, you’re far from ready.”
Thalia knew when she was being dismissed, but she still lingered at the door, thinking of the Academy and all of the good she had heard about it. Something did not feel right, even for such a dysfunctional family as hers. “Father? Why did you reject the Academy if all they want is to stop serus attacks?”
Her father inhaled as if to answer, only for the desk lamp to blow, dimming the room just enough to startle her. He opened his eyes, looking at the bulb before touching the white-hot glass with his bare finger. “I found that the Academy failed to meet my interests.”
–
The forest for their first patrol bordered the Southern cities of Ereachia, too close to home for Thalia’s comfort. It was their first major mission without the guidance of a Guardian, and far from the Academy to run for help.
This was the part where students first died. This was the first culling of those who never could have been Guardians.
Eldrin did not like this tradition, thinking that sixteen was far too young to be traveling and fighting creatures of unknown strength. He had argued with Kylantha on the subject, thinking that she was intentionally sending them to die, but Thalia understood well enough.
It was what her mother had said about her future marriage – all birds must leave the nest, be it alone or by being tossed out. The Academy did not exist to protect them, not really. Eldrin was too attached to the students, forgetting that they would be soldiers. That was why she disliked him so much, for he wanted them safe, even when they discovered his true nature.
“You’re quiet,” Theodora said to her, nudging her gently as they trailed along, spotting exactly nothing of interest thus far.
Thalia was fairly certain that she had taken a train through a forest just like this when she ran away from home, but all the trees looked the same. Cut through the forest by the Glades, step over the fence to the city, and book a trip to Kanalion. Formulaic, easy. Night transportation was rare when seruses roamed, but every worker had a price. Thalia was fortunate, just once, that she could afford anything.
“I’m sick of trees,” Thalia said, forcing her mind to the present and trying not to see the silhouettes of her parents in every shadow along the way. “It’s just dirt and sticks and more goddamned dirt!”
“And leaves,” Urzul added. “And sticks attached to leaves.”
“And leaves on sticks!” Theodora said. “Branches, even.”
Elana snickered under her breath, covering her mouth with a gloved hand just like how Maylin would. Shut up shut up shut up shut up- “Did you not have any forests near your hometown? I always thought they were fun.”
There was no real reason to answer, but Thalia couldn’t ignore her. Not when her thoughts were already being swarmed with memories she could not make herself forget. “We had a garden. That was it.”
“I thought elves had forests.”
“I thought orcs were muscular,” she shot back, making Urzul laugh as if nothing could ever get under her skin.
“What was it like?” Elana asked. “The garden, I mean. Herbs, flowers-?”
“Nothing like that.” It had been a garden without a purpose, for none was edible nor even safe to touch. It was her mother’s garden of poisons, for she found beauty in the twisting thorns of a nightshade, or the violet petals of monkshood.
She harvested them, too. Thalia discovered her one night with a basket of something with black leaves, though she did not say why. She had long since learned not to pry in her parents’ business, so she merely watched. And then the next day, a delegate with goals of establishing another branch of the Academy suffocated from a swollen throat.
Rich people died all the time, and they killed all the time, too.
Thalia met Maylin when they were thirteen, having the same private tutoring on Sundays. Her mother cared more about her magic skills than basic math, so it was someone else’s job for the academic stuff.
She had walked into the single room, spotting a girl with hair the length her own mother would never allow, and was drawn to her in an instant. Thalia’s own hair had been down to her waist and she hated it.
The girl had offered her the desk next to her. Thalia didn’t even hesitate before sitting down, taking in the girl’s green-yellow eyes tinted with highlighter - likely stolen from her mother’s makeup drawers. Rebellious but yet like her, stuck in the middle of isolation and societal expectation.
The difference was that Maylin’s parents loved her. They wanted her to be the smartest in the room, but also the kindest. They let her dress how she wanted if she agreed to go to their boring charity events. Most of all, they let Thalia visit. And so Thalia saw Maylin often.
There were places within her own home that Maylin was forbidden from entering - Thalia’s father’s office, and her mother’s garden. Neither of them had explained why but they had made it clear that the repercussions would be severe - perhaps permanent, if they sent Maylin away. Thalia didn’t understand the severity of it, but she understood that she didn’t want Maylin to go. Perhaps not ever.
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