One day, Eliza decided she had enough of the secrecy. Driven by curiosity and her own selfish motivations, she marched to Alaric's room, determined to pry into her brother's affairs.
Standing before the heavy wooden door, she took a deep breath and knocked loudly. "Alaric, open up!"
There was no answer.
"Alaric, I know you're in there," she called out, frustration evident in her voice.
Still, there was only silence from within.
Eliza's patience snapped. She jiggled the doorknob, finding it locked. Undeterred, she pulled a hairpin from her elaborate hairstyle and began to pick the lock. Moments later, she heard the satisfying click of the lock disengaging. Pushing the door open, she stepped inside.
The room was dimly lit, the air filled with the faint smell of gunpowder and metal. Alaric's workbench was cluttered with various components, schematics, and a few of his custom weapons. The sight of the pistols, with their intricate designs and lethal purpose, made Eliza's heart race with both fear and fascination.
"What is all this?" she muttered to herself, stepping further into the room.
Suddenly, a voice broke the silence. "Eliza, what do you think you're doing?"
She spun around to find Alaric standing in the doorway, his expression a mix of anger and annoyance.
"I… I was worried about you," she stammered, trying to mask her true intentions.
Alaric's eyes narrowed. "Worried? Don't lie to me, Eliza. You've never cared about me. You just want to know what I'm up to so you can use it against me."
Eliza bristled at his accusation but couldn't deny the truth behind it. "Fine," she snapped. "I want to know what's going on. You've been acting strange, and it's affecting the family."
Alaric laughed bitterly. "The family? You mean the same family that's ignored and belittled me my entire life? Spare me your concern, Eliza. I'm not interested."
She crossed her arms, glaring at him. "You're still a Vargas, whether you like it or not. Your actions have consequences for all of us."
Alaric's expression hardened. "My actions are my own. I won't let this family dictate my life any longer."
Eliza took a step closer, her tone softening slightly. "Alaric, you're playing with dangerous things here. These weapons… they could get you killed."
He shook his head, his resolve unshaken. "I know what I'm doing. And unlike you, I'm willing to take risks to achieve something greater."
For a moment, they stood in tense silence, the gulf between them wider than ever. Then, without another word, Alaric pointed to the door.
"Get out, Eliza. And don't come back."
She hesitated, a mix of anger and a hint of regret in her eyes. But ultimately, she turned and walked out, leaving Alaric alone with his thoughts.
As the door closed behind her, Alaric let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. He returned to his workbench, the familiar routine helping to calm his nerves. He knew his family would never understand his ambitions, but that was their problem, not his.
He picked up one of his pistols, examining the intricate craftsmanship. "I'll show them," he murmured to himself. "I'll show them all what I can do."
And with that, he resumed his work, his mind focused on the path he had chosen, regardless of the obstacles and the family that stood against him.
Eliza paced back and forth in her room, her frustration mounting with each passing second. The encounter with Alaric had left her fuming. She couldn't wrap her head around her brother's defiance. In a world where magical talent defined one's worth and status, Alaric's refusal to submit to their family's expectations was baffling.
"How can someone with such pitiful magical talent act so high and mighty?" she muttered to herself, her fingers clenching into fists. "He should be grateful for any attention he gets from Father, yet he acts like he's above it all."
She paused by the window, staring out at the estate's sprawling grounds. The Vargas family had always prided themselves on their magical prowess. From a young age, Eliza had been taught that their lineage was superior, their magical abilities setting them apart from common folk. It was a belief she had embraced wholeheartedly. Her own magical abilities were strong, and she had always taken pride in being among the elite.
But Alaric... he was different. His magical abilities were meager at best. In a family where power was everything, he was an anomaly. Yet instead of trying to earn their father's approval, instead of striving to fit into the mold expected of him, Alaric had chosen a path of rebellion.
"It makes no sense," Eliza said, her voice tinged with bitterness. "He should be doing everything in his power to prove himself, to earn Father's respect. But instead, he's off doing who knows what with those ridiculous weapons of his."
She flopped onto her bed, staring up at the ceiling. The memory of Alaric's room, filled with strange devices and schematics, replayed in her mind. Those weapons... they were unlike anything she had ever seen. Dangerous, yes, but also fascinating in a way she couldn't deny. And the look in Alaric's eyes when he spoke about them... it was a look of determination, of purpose.
"Why won't he just fall in line?" she whispered. "Why won't he see that he could have everything if he just tried?"
But deep down, Eliza knew the answer. Alaric had always been different. He had always walked his own path, regardless of the consequences. It was a trait that both infuriated and intrigued her. She couldn't understand it, but she couldn't ignore it either.
"Maybe he's right," a small voice in her head whispered. "Maybe there's more to life than just following the rules."
She shook her head, banishing the thought. No, that was nonsense. The Vargas family had a reputation to uphold, a legacy to maintain. They couldn't afford to have a black sheep tarnishing their name.
"But what if..." the voice persisted. "What if Alaric's way is the future? What if those weapons of his are more powerful than magic?"
Eliza sat up, her heart pounding. The idea was ludicrous, yet it had taken root in her mind. She had seen the determination in Alaric's eyes, the confidence in his voice. He believed in what he was doing, and despite her disdain, she couldn't help but wonder if there was something to it.
"Maybe I should find out more," she mused. "Maybe I should see what he's really up to."
The thought was both thrilling and terrifying. Alaric had made it clear he didn't want her prying into his affairs. But Eliza was never one to back down from a challenge. If there was something to be learned, something that could give her an edge, she was determined to find it.
She rose from her bed, a new resolve forming in her mind. She would uncover Alaric's secrets, not out of spite, but out of a genuine curiosity. If there was even a chance that his weapons were as powerful as he claimed, it was worth the risk.
"And if he's just wasting his time," she said, a smirk forming on her lips, "then I'll have all the more reason to put him in his place."
With that, Eliza began to formulate a plan. She would watch Alaric closely, bide her time, and strike when the moment was right. One way or another, she would get to the bottom of her brother's mysterious activities. And in doing so, she might just discover a new path for herself, one that went beyond the rigid expectations of their family.
The thought excited her more than she cared to admit.