Drawing Room, the Claymore Mansion 

Yusuf’s paintbrush glided across a canvas. He put the finishing touches on a portrait of his wife, who sat in an elegant, cross-legged pose on a couch. She stifled a laugh, and Yusuf shot a stern, playful glare at her, a silent reminder to remain still. The drawing room bore modest decorations with chairs, bookshelves, and a writing desk, all carved from mahogany. It was different from the study; the study was Yusuf’s office and reading space, while the drawing room was more for entertainment. 

“I’m surprised you’re still painting, love,” Mathilde commented, looking a bit worn like an athlete after a day of training. “I thought you’d want to take a nap.” 

“I wanted to get this out of the way. Twilight offers the best light to paint by.” Yusuf painted proudly as the descending sun’s light shone through a nearby window. “Now hold still. I’m almost done.” 

Mathilde smiled and sighed as Yusuf set his easel down and continued painting. 

“Ever since we had children, I think I’ve become too modest to pose nude for you.” 

“Consider yourself much improved. Modesty shouldn’t be frowned upon,” Yusuf responded. 

He gave her a confident smile as the painting sat in front of him completed. Mathilde unfurled her legs and cracked her neck. She leaned over to look at the painting, but Yusuf laid it on its blank side. 

“Well? Are you going to show me?” she asked through a giggle. 

“The painting’s a gift. A token to honor our anniversary,” Yusuf announced. 

Realization splashed across his face as the date hit her: their anniversary. Decades upon decades, and Yusuf never once forgot. All those years ago, Mathilde said “I do” to a man who swore their bloodline would remain stable, and their love would eclipse that. 

Tears welled in Mathilde’s eyes, and she stood speechless. 

“Yusuf…” Her tears fell. She smiled at her husband. 

“I understand, trust me. The girls entering adulthood got you frazzled,” Yusuf responded. “When else do you pull out all the stops for their birthday party?” 

“I just wish…” Mathilde’s words slowed to a stop as she grabbed her head gently. “Ugh. My head feels foggy… What was I going to say?” 

Yusuf rubbed his temples. “I’m not sure, but we were talking about the girls.” 

“Wow, the thought really escaped me. In any case, we should get ready for the party.” 

Yusuf nodded. “Yeah. We shouldn’t keep everyone waiting.” 

Several family members, all clad in cloaks, accessories, and some were smoking, stood in the mansion’s atrium as Mathilde stepped inside, her heels clacking on the hardwood floor. “All right, Claymore clan! Let’s turn this place into a ballroom fit for a party for my girls!” 

They all uttered various incantations and held their hands up, and the atrium morphed into a ballroom fit for royalty. The color palettes changed from a taste of violet and cerulean to that of autumn colors, replete with fallen leaf patterns carved into the walls. The atrium led outside, where there were tables covered with drinks and finger foods to be carted around by waiters. 

Half an hour later, the celebration was in full swing. Lively jazz filled the air as partygoers clapped their hands in tune with the instruments. People were approaching the Claymore mansion in droves, all to see the jewels of the Claymore family on their eve of adulthood. 

Schala and Remilia sat on a palanquin, clad in their birthday cloaks. Underneath they wore lace-top dresses with leg-covering skirts. Remilia tied her locs into a ponytail, and both donned conical hats – one was brown and purple for Schala, the other being sapphire for Remilia. They both wore gloves matching their dresses. 

The twins were brought into the atrium from outside, and as the palanquin was set on the ground, the bearers offered their arms and helped them dismount. They walked to a five-step stand set up in the atrium where Mathilde awaited them. Yusuf stood close by with his arms folded behind his back. 

Mathilde turned to address the crowd of family and friends. Her dress was just as immaculate as the twins’ dresses, and she wore it proudly. Yusuf wore a black vest, white shirt with a black tie tucked in, and his ensemble was completed by a black jacket and pants, boots, and a violet scarf. 

“Now, before we start, may God bless you all,” Mathilde prayed, and the crowd repeated. “We’ve gathered today to honor the birth of our daughters, Schala and Remilia—” 

“Actually, we have an announcement to make,” Remilia interrupted. 

The twins stepped forward, away from their parents and right before the crowd. They glanced at each other, nodding in support. 

“We applied to Scalefall Academy in America. We took an examination, and we got in. We’ll be going to graduate school in a week for three years,” Schala announced. 

The room fell silent. A prestigious school like Scalefall? Three years? In America? 

“Why there? There are plenty of graduate programs here in France—” one person whispered. 

Their parents were frozen in shock. Mathilde’s mouth lay wide and stretched, while Yusuf’s eyes were wider than saucers. They both watched their daughters, who themselves fought to keep their bravery. 

A cough broke the tedium. Remilia spoke this time, drawing in a breath and clearing her throat. “We decided this is what’s best for our lives and career. We want time to figure out our own path.” 

“We love you all and couldn’t have asked for a better family,” Schala began, turning away from her extended family and to her parents. “We hope you’d be more supportive.” 

“And amenable,” Angelique’s voice reached out from behind them. 

The twins whirled and their aunt stood, her smile wide and big. The girls smiled and hugged their aunt with a breath of relief. 

“We did what you laid out for us,” Schala whispered. 

“Good girl, but we’ll talk later,” Angelique uttered. She turned to her brother-in-law and asked, “Well? Are you more amenable?” 

Yusuf looked at the three and then to the crowd of cousins, aunts, and uncles. His heart was hard, but it wasn’t made of stone, not anymore. 

“Attend me,” he said simply as he turned from an astonished crowd. 

“Yep,” Schala mused. “That’s his pissed voice.” 

Schala, Remilia, and Angelique followed the parents into the drawing room and closed the door. 

“Before you talk, I know how important going to Scalefall is for you two, but…you just don’t know the whole story,” Yusuf said, painful memories lacing across his eyes. 

“Baba, we deserve to know,” Remilia said. Schala nodded in agreement. 

Yusuf looked to Angelique, who gave him a reassuring look. 

“I’ll tell them,” Angelique spoke up. 

Yusuf held up a hand. “I’ll tell them. I can do it.”  

He sighed and sat in his chair. “Decades ago, we fought in the Civil War. I was a soldier, fighting on the front lines, but your mother and Angelique worked behind the scenes before that, helping Harriet Tubman with the Underground Railroad. Madame Tubman used all her magics to keep the slaves concealed and hunters off her tail, but she never broke the rule, not once. She did our people a service, but by that point, I was tired. Our family was tired of our people’s plight – the slaves, being treated as nothing more than cattle--” 

Yusuf clenched his hand into a fist, closed his eyes, and crimson electric energy consumed his palm. Angelique put her hand on his shoulder, and he opened his eyes, which were filled with rage. The events of fifteen decades were just as vivid and painful. 

“It’s okay, brother,” Angelique said. 

Yusuf sat in his chair and propped his head on his fist. 

“Our time in America was never pleasant. Madame Tubman helped us, but the Ordinaires spared no expense at making our lives, the lives of black people, a veritable hell. Demon slave catchers and Hellhounds kidnapped free blacks, children included, and sold them into slavery. The law deprived people suspected of being slaves of the right to defend themselves in court, and they couldn’t even prove their status. We grew tired of it all, and so, we acted,” Angelique said. 

“Acted?” Remilia said. 

“We tried to assassinate General Robert E. Lee,” Angelique said bluntly. “We tried to kill him at Gettysburg, but the Sorcery Society stopped us. He surrendered at Appomattox to General Grant, but behind the scenes, our entire clan was exiled from the states; our magic was on full display when we tried to kill him, and they worked for three days to erase the memories of the Confederates there. We left America, spent time in Benin where our clan grew, and emigrated to France in the 1920’s. The Claymores were alumni at Scalefall; I was a teacher there, but once I was implicated in breaking the rule, my tenure was stripped.” 

The twins were deathly quiet. They looked at each other, communicating through small gestures. 

“We had no idea,” Schala said. 

“Our family is complicated,” Remilia added. “We tried to change history. Maybe they knew Lee was going to surrender and they stopped you from making a big mistake.” 

“Be that as it may, we were exiled; we can’t, as a clan, travel to American soil. They might think we’re trying something funny.” Angelique snapped her fingers and a glass of bourbon appeared in her grasp. She downed it in one gulp. 

“You go to America, we won’t be able to help you immediately,” Yusuf announced solemnly. “The rules, the wardings… If this is what you must do, be careful. You two are smart. I want you to be smarter.” 

He stood and hugged the girls tight as Mathilde walked in, rubbing her temples. 

“Well, girls, you put us in quite a situation,” she began before she saw Yusuf hugging the twins. “What did I miss?” 

“They know everything,” Angelique summarized. 

As she finished, a humming reached their ears, stopping the family short. An arcane circle appeared in glowing blue symbols on the ground. 

“Someone’s here,” Schala said. 

“Don’t go anywhere. I’ll greet our guest,” Angelique declared. “Stay put.” 

Angelique walked away from the drawing room, the atrium, and the backyard. She moved to the front foyer, the silence broken by her footsteps, the unlatching of the door, and a small flapping. Out of her line of sight, a small paper bird perched high and observed as Angelique opened the door.