Chereads / The Aenestra Saga: Myth of The Ancients / Chapter 2 - The Eyes of Grief [1]

Chapter 2 - The Eyes of Grief [1]

It rained that day. I remember waking to the melodic symphony of droplets falling against the stained-glass window; the playfully recurring tap-tap-tapping that echoed throughout the mansion. A tall and protective structure with thick, marble walls surrounding the intricate silver gates. A realm of dew glistened upon the greenery that encircled the building. Soft pink roses were in full bloom, some wilted, few still growing. The estate itself stood as a castle. I always thought it beautiful.

I slid out of the spacious bed and stretched as I did every morning; my muscles have always been quite stiff, especially my shoulders. I walked the cold, white floor and approached the large window, forcing it bare as I pulled open the red curtains with golden lining, made to parallel the red bedding laced with gold. I kissed my sleeping husband on the cheek, then rang the silver bell, quietly. Servants silently swept into the bedroom and escorted me to the bath, which was divided from the main bedroom so as not to disturb Dixteus from his slumber. They removed my silk robes and poured boiling water into the large bath, scattering the dust of oakwood and lavender oil. Once dried, they dressed me in my white lab coat, with black pants and a white shirt beneath. Adelae, my personal maid, assisted me with my short-haired black wig, and handed me the finest raspberry ganache muffin in the kingdom, for a pre-breakfast. It was only then that I heard the boisterous bangs reverberating through the mansion walls - the tumbles and fumbles, the "Fuck!"s and gasps. I could imagine her hands over her mouth, shocked that she had used such vulgar language so loudly. I could imagine her remembering that our walls are so thick, they are soundproof to the average ear, forgetting that our family is anything but average. Pity me, to have a daughter as young as fifteen with the personality of a boyish cat. Savage little things, they are. Teenagers, that is.

I strolled down the bifurcated staircase to the dining hall. It was wide with a lovely view of our gardens; windows occupied an entire wall to allow for bright lighting. Reflecting this light was the finished glass table, where a plethora of breakfasts had been prepared. I seated myself at the head of the table on the floral upholstered chair and waited. Adelae brought me a book from the library which I went on to read for nearly thirty minutes. The chef, Jaquese, knew to prepare cooler breakfasts as I would not eat without company. My company was always late.

Kaida burst through the doors, causing me to drop my book to the floor at the mere sight of her. She had hair of aged metal, black with loose strands reaching out like flaking rust. Her eyes had no reflection, as if her soul had been drained of water; they were weighed down by the dark bags corrupting her already sickly pale skin. Her build was thin and weak, which made her expensively new uniform hang over her body. I quite liked that uniform, it was unique and modern, and, by Kaida's doing, wrinkled. The red dress itself was up to her knees, but the academy insisted upon such a length for convenience of mobility. I remember wondering how my daughter became so ugly with her father and my genetic material. But even with such a ghastly face, she was able to make the purest of expressions - of white roses and milk tea - a voice of honey, as she uttered the strange words, "Mother, 𝒕𝒉𝒆 π’”π’Œπ’š π’Šπ’” π’„π’“π’šπ’Šπ’π’ˆ," she said, softly. I chuckled, "The sky does not cry, dear. It nourishes the world. But your peers certainly will at the sight of you. Evangeline, won't you please braid Kaida's hair for me as she eats her salad? And add some colour to her lips and cheeks, we can salvage this." Evangeline obeyed. The maid reminded me of a cat, with a head of ginger hair accompanied by soft freckles, and large yellow eyes. Thin, rosy lips, she was rather beautiful. Kaida seated herself beside me, frowning, "You always call me ugly,"

"No, I don't, did I ever say that?"

"You implied it."

"I did not."

"You thought it."

"I did," I admitted. "There's nothing wrong with being ugly, love. It is a descriptive word, not a trait. It is-"

"It is neither negative nor positive, I know. What of your crossdressing tendencies? How goes your social life, Mother?" Kaida smirked at me, and I raised my eyebrow. She thought she was funny. "Identical to yours; nonexistent. I do, however, receive adequate respect in the lab. Only one man has attempted to fuck me." she choked on her salad, "Mother-! I care not for how I was birthed-"

"Relax, child, unfortunately, I speak not of your father. Oddly enough, when I told Dixteus, the man happened to move to Nersica. I'm sure he's positively gay in the icy climate."

"Har-har, hilarious." she mumbled as I smiled, "I do take partial responsibility. My naturally lovely, feminine appearance, must have given the wrong impression on the poor fellow. Or perhaps it was the lavender oil."

Kaida inhaled a deep breath. I stared as she closed her eyes, expanding her chest, parting her now unnaturally rose-coloured lips as she exhaled. Was there perhaps no manner to truly salvage this? It was her first day of school - her impression would be our family's as well. Our name. And yet she awakens late, with a creased uniform and a complete lack of concern for her appearance. I couldn't truly blame her, I, too, lacked concern. But I did not care if she was ugly, I cared if she was not sleeping. "Kaida, dear-"

"I know." She interrupted. Her voice, unwavering. "Evangeline will take care of me. I will look 'presentable' by the time we arrive. Wouldn't want to scare the other students away, right?"

The morning drifted by as an elegant flash of light, and before I realised, I was holding the umbrella as we walked to the carriage; white, decorated with silver flora. Simplistic, yet, rich and lovely. When we arrived at Hiraeosia Academy, I leaned forward and kissed Kaida's forehead, embraced her in my arms, and then waved goodbye.

Perhaps the sky truly cried that day.