Seraphina wandered through the estate's gardens at dawn, her mind heavy with the responsibility her father had recently assigned her. The air was crisp and sharp, biting against her skin as she inhaled deeply, feeling the chill wrap around her like a cloak. The quietness of early morning was comforting, familiar—the one time she could think without the constant presence of servants, her brothers, or the relentless expectations that came with her name.
Her task: strengthen the estate's magical defenses. In theory, it was a great honor, a sign of trust from their father. But in practice, it felt more like another chain. A binding that kept her locked into the family's unyielding need for control, a never-ending pursuit of security and power. She'd studied barrier magic, ancient wards, and even rare forms of binding spells since she could read, yet the weight of this assignment pressed down on her, stirring the quiet fears she buried under layers of precision and poise.
As she moved through the maze of hedges and shadowed paths, her thoughts were a relentless list of concerns. She had diagrams and runes memorized, layers of enchantments mapped out, and lists of potential weaknesses to cover. She knew every detail, every trap she could weave into the estate's defenses, but even so, the task was immense. She knew her father's expectations and the price of failure.
Lost in thought, she almost missed the figure crouched near the rose bushes, his head bent low over a chalk circle marked with strange symbols. She blinked, the sight jolting her from her reverie.
Elias.
Her younger brother was muttering softly, the words drifting up in a quiet, hurried rhythm. A vial of dark liquid sat at the circle's center, glowing faintly as he poured his energy into the ritual. She'd known of his interest in forbidden magic—it wasn't a secret, not to her, anyway. But she hadn't expected to find him so openly conducting a ritual in the garden.
She stepped closer, letting her voice cut through the silence. "Playing with things you don't understand again?"
Elias jolted, his concentration breaking as he scrambled to wipe away the chalk markings. The faint glow of his ritual sputtered, fading into nothing. He straightened, shooting her a look of annoyance mixed with alarm. For a moment, she saw the vulnerability in his gaze, the startled look of a child caught doing something he shouldn't, before he masked it with his usual indifference.
"Seraphina." He brushed the dust from his hands, standing stiffly. "What are you doing here?"
"I could ask you the same thing," she replied, her arms folding over her chest as she watched him. "Father would be... interested to hear about these little experiments of yours."
A flash of panic crossed his face, quickly replaced by irritation. "You wouldn't."
"Wouldn't I?" She tilted her head, a smirk playing on her lips. "It would be... enlightening to see his reaction. You, the family's weakest link, dabbling in forces beyond your grasp."
He clenched his fists, biting back whatever retort hovered on his tongue. "Why are you here, Seraphina? Just to mock me?"
Her gaze was level, unflinching. "Perhaps. Or maybe I'm curious. This is more... ambition than I expected from you."
Elias scoffed, his expression hardening as he crossed his arms. "You don't know anything about me. None of you do. To you, I'm just a failure, a weakling. But that doesn't mean I don't have my own reasons."
She regarded him, a hint of intrigue flashing in her eyes. "Then what are those reasons? Do you think playing with forbidden magic will make Father look at you any differently?"
His jaw clenched, his gaze meeting hers with a defiance she hadn't seen before. "I don't care about Father's approval at least not anymore" the latter part of the statement barely audible.
"I'm not like you and Marcus. This... this is about survival. Surviving in the only way I know how."
Seraphina felt a pang of surprise at his words. Surviving? For all the wealth, power, and influence their family commanded, it was rare for any of them to admit to feeling vulnerable. Their father taught them to view weakness as a flaw, an imperfection to be eliminated. And here was Elias, laying bare his insecurity.
"Surviving?" she repeated, a note of incredulity in her voice. "You're part of one of the most powerful families on the continent, and yet you're the one who feels the need to 'survive'?"
Elias's expression turned bitter, his eyes darkening. "Being a Von Schwarzenwald doesn't guarantee protection, Seraphina. If anything, it makes you a target. Maybe you and Marcus have Father's favor, but I... I've always been disposable."
A rear trace of softness crossed her face unintentionally. For a moment, she saw a flicker of the boy he had been—isolated, sidelined, overshadowed by expectations he'd never been able to meet. But she quickly masked her reaction returning to her icy demeanor, crossing her arms tighter over her chest as she fixed him with a cold, appraising look.
"We all have our roles, Elias. If you're serious about surviving, then stop wasting your time with dark magic and start contributing to the family's defenses." Her voice remaining as bland as ever. "I'm setting up a magical barrier to protect the estate. If you want to make yourself useful, help with something that actually matters."
Elias's expression shifted, surprise flickering across his features as he processed her words. He seemed almost disoriented by the offer, as if he couldn't quite believe what he was hearing.
"You'd... let me help?" he asked, his voice tentative, laced with suspicion.
"Call it a test if you want," she replied, her voice colder than her usual tone. "I want to see if you can handle real responsibility—or if your defiance is just a phase."
The silence between them stretched, each of them locked in a silent battle of wills. She watched as a myriad of emotions flitted across his face—doubt, resentment, determination. For a moment, she thought he might refuse, retreat back into his bitterness and isolation.
But then, slowly, he nodded, a glimmer of resolve hardening his gaze. "Fine. I'll help. But don't expect me to follow orders blindly."
She allowed herself a faint smile. "Good. I'd expect nothing less."
They walked back toward the estate together, the garden's shadows stretching around them like ghosts as the first light of dawn began to filter through the trees. The quiet truce that formed between them was tentative, fragile—a thread barely holding together.
As they approached the main hall, Elias paused, glancing over his shoulder to watch the faint, early morning light spill over the gardens. The roses, still dewy from the night, glistened in the dawn, their beauty a sharp contrast to the darker thoughts running through his mind.
He seemed reluctant to step inside, as if savoring this fleeting moment of peace. Turning back to Seraphina, his face softened, the guarded expression he usually wore slipping just slightly. She could see the weight in his eyes, the questions he was struggling to articulate.
"Seraphina," he began quietly, as though choosing his words with care, "do you ever wonder if... if there's more to all of this? Beyond just power and defenses?"
She stopped, caught off-guard by the question. For years, her life had been dedicated to maintaining the family's influence, strengthening their position, and meeting the unspoken expectations of their father. But Elias's question stirred something within her, a distant echo of doubts she kept buried.
Her gaze softened, and for a brief moment, she allowed herself to be honest. "Perhaps," she murmured, her voice quieter than she intended. "But that's not a luxury we can afford right now."
He nodded, as though he understood. And maybe he did. They were both shaped by the same relentless expectations, molded by the same pressures, even if their paths had diverged. In that quiet moment, she felt a flicker of connection with her younger brother, a shared understanding of the weight they each carried.
With an unspoken resolve, they stepped into the estate together, prepared to face the challenges and secrets lying ahead—each of them now bound, however tentatively, by a shared purpose.