《Anything but Saintly》 Third Times The Charm Once upon a time in the Kingdom of Noreden, there was a girl, born of the powerful Duke of Hessiod, Marcus van Hessiod. This girl was called Anastasia, and she would want for nothing. Her family, the Hessiod Ducal Family, was the most powerful and important in the Kingdom, with the strongest Standing Army in the country, controlling large swathes of territory and wielding magics most arcane. Such was its territory, wealth and power, that it was said that the Duke of Hessiod was the true power behind the Kingdom of Noreden. Anastasia knew this, and knew that as the sole beloved daughter of the Duke, the first daughter born to the family in two hundred years, she was important. The most important, in fact. She believed wholeheartedly that she and she alone stood at the very top, and that all others existed for her sake, be it her family, her servants or all others. The whole world was put at her service, and she knew neither right nor wrong, she only knew what she liked and what she disliked. There was never anything she could not have, if she wanted it, for her Father would make it so. That was, until she met Him. Prince Albrecht Noreden, a tall boy of tan skin and rugged good looks. The second prince of Noreden, born of a Suradian concubine and bearing their distinctive traits. His hair was as dark as the winter nights, and his eyes were like onyx gems, his features were nothing like those of the Noredenian noblesse, with a strong jaw and a hauntingly terrifying glare, he stood half ahead above even the tallest of his peers, and his wide and strong shoulders were the subject of many a furtive conversation between the ladies. With the exotic good looks that clashed with the predominantly blonde and slim nobility of Noreden, he''d caught many people''s attention. Anastasia met Prince Albrecht when the two attended the Royal Academy, and she was smitten with him, yet found nothing but rejection. Even when she used her father''s power to secure a promise of engagement, it was no use, for he hated her then and would hate her through the length of their engagement. So much so that he would even fall into the arms of another woman. A commoner who had been elevated when it became known she was the bastard child of a baron, the lowest form of landowning nobility, and yet, despite all the gifts she showered upon him, all the time she spent trying to appeal to him, he would fall for her, unequivocally and without shame. She would try everything in her power to gain him back, and when that didn''t work, she sought to get rid of the girl, and thus came Anastasia''s doom, as she was faced with the consequences of her actions for the first time in her life, as even her father could not, and would not, protect her from the law itself. Anastasia had tried to poison the commoner girl, and in her failure, had poisoned the Prince instead, and as he had brushed death but been miraculously saved by the commoner girl''s healing power... The curtain fell upon Anastasia''s tale, as she was found guilty and sentenced to death, the edge of the curtain took the form of a guillotine. On her very birthday, no less! And yet, Anastasia''s eyes opened once again, as she woke up not as the eighteen years old villainess she had become, but an innocent still. Once again, it was her birthday, except it was ten years before. She woke up not in a dark, damp and dingy cell, but in her lavish and overdecorated bedroom, surrounded by pillows and dolls. After a good cry and finding herself relieved that her fate was not to be, she decided that she would not let herself become the woman she had once been. Indeed, she remembered now what her life at this age was like, and she remembered that despite the fact that she had two brothers and a father, she scarcely ever met them. She didn''t even dine with them more than once a month. And though she had the urge to blame them for it, the edge of the guillotine had given her a whole new perspective. Knowing where such thoughts lead, she sat on her bed, by herself, and simply thought. Thought about why her family had never wanted to be with her. She remembered a time, a very long time ago, where they would come to see her, to play with her, to be with her, and yet little by little, that stopped, and she was no longer the center of their love and attentions. This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it Little by little, she found herself alone. A maid came to wake her up. A servant. She didn''t even know the maid''s name, but the maid knew her, and the maid acted with nothing but terrified respect and fearful submission, and it was only putting this in stark contrast to the commoner girl who had enraptured the heart of her beloved, that she finally understood. The fearful maid had, in her terror, tripped and dropped her tray, launching the cup of steaming hot tea''s contents all over Anastasia''s face, burning her quite badly. Anastasia shrieked in pain, and it triggered a memory in her, reminded her of what would follow. Right. This maid, this maid- she''d had this maid fired for this, no, not just fired, she''d had the maid thrown in the dungeon and tortured, disfiguring her to repay her the insult. Anastasia was filled with panic, she hadn''t even thought about what she had done, and now that she could remember what it was like to be on the receiving end, now that she understood and knew, she could not help but feel sympathy and regret. It took until now, until this shocking stinging pain, for her to truly realize what a monster she had been. It registered then. Everything she''d done. Everything she''d said. Her family had drifted away from her because she had grown into an unforgivable monster. But she could change, she could become someone else, she could become someone better. And the first step on that journey was here and now. Through her tears and the intense, incredible pain, she begged for mercy for the young girl who had made a mistake because of fear, to her father and her brothers, and this one step would change her future forever. Because the tears of relief and happiness on the maid''s face triggered something deep within Anastasia, as she learned something that she had never thought would ever be true. Doing good... feels good. Being thanked. Being appreciated. Being... respected. It felt good. Intoxicatingly so, even. Anastasia was a changed woman, and though her burns would haunt her for many weeks until she was fully healed, the scar left on her spirit would last much longer, and she would become a wholly different existence, drunk and intoxicated on the smiles and praise words directed her way by everyone around her. A girl who had known only scorn now tasted nothing but praise, and she loved it. And yet... And yet..! And yet here she was, hollow and alone. Throughout all her life, she had known nothing but praise and respect. She had known nothing but gratitude. And yet she was empty, she was in despair even. One hundred years after she had changed her path from that of a selfish and spoiled villainess to a selfless saint, she knew nothing but the same sorrow that she had felt at the end. She knew Death approached. She was familiar with it. Though it might not come in the form of a guillotine, it was just as frightening. The Saint of Hessiod was an old woman now. A hundred and eight years old. Though she had known love, it had never been more than one sided. Her beloved prince married that same commoner girl. Tiara, was her name. Though it tore at her heart she had wished them happiness fondly, from the bottom of her heart, and they had named her godmother of their child, as had many others. Though she had never had children of her own, many had sought her out. She had become a symbol, an icon. The Saint of Hessiod, a woman given to charity and selfless endeavors, was everyone''s Granny, at the end of her life. This was her last birthday. Her last day on this world. Only her brothers'' descendants had come to her humble abode to celebrate it with her. The great grandchildren of her brothers. She had known not the joy of a family nor the happiness of a lover... It was perhaps her only regret. In her zeal to become someone worthy of love, she had swung too far in the other direction, and become someone whom others felt unworthy of. A custom of Noreden that had become more and more popular, making a wish upon the gods as you blew on the candles of your birthday cake... it was the first time Anastasia ever experienced it, at the suggestion of one of her grandnephews, the youngest among the crowd that gathered to wish her a happy birthday and pay their respects to the ancestor who had raised the name of Hessiod to such a degree. A wish upon the candles, huh? Perhaps she was swept up by the mood, perhaps she it was just a whim. But she made her wish, nonetheless, as she blew her candles with what little strength she had left, even as she lay on her death bed, and thought that, if she were to live again, she''d like to be able to make some friends next time. The last of the hundred and eight candles'' fire was snuffed, and with the clapping and celebration of her family''s descendants, Anastasia settled on her bed, and closed her eyes one final time, warm with the knowledge that it was at last time for her lonely existence to end. The whole of Noreden mourned the loss of the Great Saint, a grand ceremony held on that date, every year, for the following century. And then while everyone else was busy preparing for the celebration of the Saint''s birthday, exactly one hundred years after the passing of Saint Anastasia, Anya, daughter of a huntswoman and a baker, tripped, hit her head on the edge of a table, and was promptly reminded of not one but two past lives on her way to the la la land of unconsciousness. For Every Change Theres A Reason By the time I woke up, dad- father... at least, my current father, getting used to that''s gonna take a while, was already coming into the room. It was strange to recognize and be familiar with him and yet at the same time, feel like it was the very first time I met him. And yet, here we were. Dad was a very normal man. A regular person really! He was a baker! It was interesting to see how things had changed since I was first this old. When I was eight years old the first time around, most people lived scattered among farmlands, with small population centers serving as gathering places for merchants and manufacturers, small hamlets built around workshops. Most people spent most of their time close to the farmlands that they worked for the feudal lord of the area, and villages tended to be formed around a specific purpose. By the twilight years of my life, this had begun to change, and small villages were starting to populate and increase in size. I remember pushing for some of the reforms that led to this, the man who had convinced me to support his proposal to invest in roads was very convincing, and the technical wizard who invented the sealed cool boxes for preservation and transportation was a passionate youth who would no doubt go on to make a name for himself. Good lads, both of them, and I''m glad to see that their work has borne fruit. Indeed, the small village of Talar was once an even smaller outpost, a smattering of houses, warehouses, workshops and towers loosely connected by the families of the lumberjacks that harvested the woods nearby for their bounty and timber, but now, now it was a bustling, growing village, and had expanded from a mere thirty five inhabitants to five hundred. Never could anyone have expected to make a living as a baker in Talar back then, but now, father even had a bakery of his own, that he worked with my brothers, and which was even commissioned for this most auspicious of occasions. I''ve been marvelling so much at the world around me that... I''ve been ignoring the world immediately around me. Oops. "Anya!" Father''s voice thundered, as he raised it in an attempt to get my attention. "Are you sure you''re okay? You''ve been spacing out a lot," he said, tone and voice softening as he spoke. Dad was... really normal and average. A slimmer build than the peasants I remembered, but still broad shouldered and tall. His skin wasn''t as tan as a farmhand, and reminded me more of nobility than a peasant, though the scars on his face, on his arms and on his hands put that thought away, no noble would ever be scarred like that but those with knightly titles. His hair was the same brown as mine, and I tried not to think of the fact that I had to get used to the brown hair on the periphery of my vision. He kept it cropped short, choppily cut, so it would not interfere with his work. People didn''t like hair in their bread after all. "You''re spacing out again, Anya," he said, looking a bit amused. "I know your dad''s a handsome man but you can''t go getting distracted when I''m talking to you," he said, grabbing me and lifting me up. He may not be a warrior, but he was very much a hard worker, and baking tons of bread by hand every day had given him a lot of physical strength, he could easily hold me up one armed. "If you keep ignoring me then I''ll do this!" he said, sticking his finger in his mouth and pulling it out, covering it in saliva and threatening me with it. "Ew," I replied, my instincts from this life coming out unprompted, "you''re being disgusting again!!" I cried out. Even if I hadn''t remembered being a prim and proper noble lady, it seemed like a part of my spirit was still... well, my prissy self from way back, though I''m happy to say I''m more amused than disgusted these days! Especially as Dad himself bursts into giggles and I do as well, feeling the happy joy bubbling up from the bottom of my stomach, something I hadn''t ever experienced before. Never had I been held by my father, never had my father done anything like this... as Anastasia I- I never knew I wanted to have a dad who would do disgusting things to tease his fussy daughter. "What''s gotten into you? Does your head hurt or anything? We could go to the church if you''re still in pain," he said, letting me gently back down. My bed was... stiff, hard and difficult to rest on, nothing compared to what I was used to. Well beyond and above what most peasants in my day experienced, but still not up to the standards of the nobility that were ingrained in me. I winced as I settled down, and then after taking a deep breath, I swung my legs off of the bed. At least we weren''t sleeping on hay in a dark and dingy cell, I''ll give the bed that much. "I''m fine," I said, putting my hands on my hips and striking my most reassuring smirk. "I''m fine, see?" I repeated, nodding to myself, more than to him. "I''m fine to keep helping, just tell me what to do and-" "No, no way!" dad said. "Anya, sweetie, you banged your head pretty bad, on the edge of the table no less, it''s a wonder nothing worse happened!" he said. "You need to rest to make sure there''s nothing wrong with you!" he said, raising a finger and wagging it as if to emphasize his negative, then using that same finger to poke my forehead. Immediately, I cried out in pain, this stupid childish body of mine unable to bear the sting of the contact. When I grabbed my forehead by instinct, it only caused me even MORE pain! I was surely bruising there. I don''t even own a mirror now, so I can''t check, but it''s probably pretty bad, if they had to bandage it. "See?" he asked. "Now, be a good girl. They say the Saint hears our prayers during the holy day," he said, smiling at me, "so maybe if you pray really hard and if you''ve been a good girl, the Saint will reach with her powers from the heavens above and heal you," he said. Oh? "Heh, Anya is named after Saint Anastasia, so I''m sure she''ll be looking out for you," dad said, a big grin on his face and a thumbs up gesture, which he capped of with a wink. What..? Did- do people assume that I''m god or something!? I don''t have those kinds of powers! Even what little I could do to heal was very difficult to do, it left me exhausted every time, and it wasn''t even half as good as what Tiara could do with a quarter of the effort! If I was going to be remembered fondly over something, could it not have been something I was actually good at!? "But daaad, how are our prayers going to be heard if we don''t go to the church?" I asked, pouting. Dad booped my nose, and I glared at him for it. "Remember the Saint''s teachings, as long as you truly hold God in your heart, then your prayers will be heard. Direct your prayers through Saint Anastasia, and she will relay them to God for you!" he said. "I- okay," I sighed, "I''ll pray hard and then you''ll see, I''ll be right back to work before you know it!" "Attagirl," dad said, placing his hand atop my head and gently ruffling my hair. I felt a pang of regret. The ringlet curls that I''d maintained so religiously in my past life, which once got me the mocking nickname of Princess Drills, were now gone, forever and ever. My hair was much thicker and much more coarse now, a light brown color. It also had to be kept much shorter and there was no way I could properly take care of it anymore. Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. Even if every house was expected to have a shower in this day and age, soap and hair care products were still expensive and as such, used only when bathing before a special occasion, which my family wasn''t often a participant in, so I basically had never had my hair properly washed, let alone cared for. Dad got up and left the bedroom. I share this bedroom with my brothers, and once more, I find myself the youngest of three, although this time, my older brothers are... well... Anders and Stephen are nothing at all like Ivan and Donovan. Beyond the obvious physical features, as Anders was effectively a carbon copy of father but smaller, and Stephen had mom''s nearly black hair except his never seemed to grow past a few centimeters, they were... Well, I actually knew them and spoke to them regularly! Imagine that, knowing what your brothers'' voices sound like! I don''t know that I could ever recognize Ivan and Donovan if it weren''t for the paintings of them stuck in the exhibition room back at the Hessiod castle, but despite their very average looks, I could never confuse Anders and Stephen for anybody else... Should I be ashamed of what a terrible sister I was, or be happy that my brothers are much better this time around? Alas, I hardly knew them, but at least their descendants were good people, so I''ll let the bad brotherhood pass on account of good parenting skills. Our house has only two bedrooms, and this is mine and my brothers'', though those two troublemakers almost never spent time here. Anders was the eldest, the first son, and he was very similar physically to dad, but he took after mom way more in terms of personality. His third of the room had his bed and an armoire, which contained his hunting equipment, including his treated leathers, his bow, a storage with all the arrows he had accumulated and the short sword that mom had got him for his coming of age. I hummed. Brother Anders was close to sixteen years old now, and soon, he would start the process of seeking a new life for himself, away from the nest... I needed to do some investigation, I''ve never known how commoners handle this sort of thing. If he was a noble, father would be arranging an engagement for him and setting him up with either a position in the military for him to make his own career, or training him to succeed the management of the house''s affairs and the fiefdom. Meanwhile, Brother Stephen was not too far from his coming of age. Next year would be his fifteenth, and he would then choose his path in life. Though his appearance was close to mother''s and his build was suited to violence, his personality wasn''t, he was a gentle lad and liked tending to plants. I wish Anya, that''s me I guess? had paid more attention to him, I think he''s working as a gardener somewhere? I don''t know for sure, he''s definitely an apprentice somewhere but I just can''t remember where. In contrast to Anders, Stephen''s belongings all fit neatly in a single chest, he didn''t own that many clothes and most of his tools were kept at his workplace instead. And as for me? Well... "I feel like I might be getting special treatment," I muttered to myself, looking at all the dolls and toys and the two chests full of clothes that belonged to me. I was... definitely being spoiled, right? Should I feel bad for Anders and Stephen? I thought hard for a few moments and then realized, no, they were part of it. A rumbling thought from deep within came unbidden. Stupid overprotective brothers! I... at least prefer brothers who are overprotective than ones that don''t even acknowledge my existence until they need something from me. Anders had gifted me many a doll he had made, and despite my own spoiled and selfish self, I''d kept all of them, even the first few ones that were more horrifying and disturbing than cute... I opened the chest with the dolls and looked at them. Yep. Ugly as sin, but... they filled me with warmth and happy thoughts when I looked at them. They were made with effort and sentiment, and even if the young me hadn''t truly understood why, at least she had cared enough about her brothers to keep their gifts. Alongside the dolls, there were flower ornaments, and small wooden carvings, some with symbols that might''ve sorta passed as letters if you squinted, that got neater and clearer the closer they got to the end of the alphabet. I''m happy to see that my efforts to increase literacy among the general populace were bearing fruit. My influence as a saint wasn''t good for much with the Church itself, but with some help I could definitely get reading, writing and basic arithmetic to be added to the curriculum of sunday school at every Church. And the fact that my brothers were even trying to help me along... Well, good news boys, I just regained all my knowledge from a hundred years ago, so it miiiight be a little outdated, but at least I can read, write and do math again! Score! I closed the lid on the chest and hummed in satisfaction. Right. I''ll do my best to give back to this family that has treated me with so much love and respect, I''ll show them just how good of a daughter I can be, now that I''m back! Unfortunately, I definitely had none of the power I''d had when I was a daughter of Hessiod, political or otherwise, so I couldn''t really shower them with monetary rewards or give them a title or anything of the sort, and most importantly, I didn''t even have magic anymore! The nobility had carefully cultivated bloodlines through hundreds if not thousands of years, strengthening them over time, to create the most powerful offspring they could, and Anastasia van Hessiod was the beneficiary of all that work, born with not just magical power, but heaps of it. But Anya, daughter of the Baker? Anya had none of that, and so my magical power was piddling, nothing. I was not a freak of nature like Tiara, born as a commoner with power that made all the efforts of the nobility look like a joke by comparison, I was just a regular nobody, and that meant that I had nothing to work with in terms of innate magical power. But somehow, I still felt blessed. I''ve done my part, haven''t I? I had power, and I used it as best as I could, for as long as I could, neglecting myself and my own well being... hey, maybe the gods have recognized my efforts, and have given me a chance to finally have a life for myself? In that way, I''m more than willing to give up all of that power, all of that magic, in return for a happy life! Dad said to pray, huh? Well, even if I''m not gonna be praying to the Saint, because that''d be narcissistic, I''ll at least clasp my hands together. "Thank you, God, for this chance at happiness!" I said, "I won''t screw it up, I promise! I''ll be working hard so that we can all can be happy together, my family and myself, I won''t be alone this time!" Warmth filled the room and light burst and blinded me, and I fell flat on my butt, which stopped hurting almost as soon as it started, and in fact, I felt a lot better, only now realizing that I was blocking the pain from my forehead wound, as well as many other aches all over my body... I felt better, I felt filled with energy, even more, I felt- Oh. Wait. No no no, there''s no way. No way! There''s no way- Noooo, this- Even though I was called a Saint, even though I was used by the Church to further their goals, never, not once, had a single one of my prayers been answered, not even when I feverishly worked overtime to heal wounds that took me to the limits of my ability. I had drained my magic to the point of exhaustion numerous times, and begged God to give me even just a little bit more power, to let me squeeze my energy just a little bit longer, so that I may make the difference between life and death for someone, and yet- and yet- Not once! Not once had I been heard before, no matter how desperate my plea, so why-- Why?! Why has God answered now, for something as silly as a bump on my head?! Why now!? Why me!? Is this it? Is it my fate? Am I to be a true and proper Saint, this time? Was I wrong? Am I meant to live my life for others'' sake again..? I thought... I could feel a miserable feeling overwhelming me from within, as a deep rooted sadness overcame me. What am I thinking..? These selfish thoughts... I thought I''d discarded this selfish self a long time ago, when I suffered and died for them, I thought, I thought- I just wanted to live, and be happy alongside everyone else, so... so I... I refuse... this time, I refuse. I won''t be a saint, not again, not this time... I can''t be a saint again. The warm light dissipated, until only glowing golden motes were left, each of them slowly disappearing into thin golden mist, and yet, the warmth never left me. I had been healed. I was better than new. Healthier than I''d ever been before. This power... this power that could ruin my life... I''ll have to be judicious and careful with its use. Even if I cannot allow an innocent to suffer before me, I''ll have to come up with some way to avoid getting locked into that lonely life again! Father burst into the room. "Anya sweetie are you alright!? there was a light and a loud sound and-" I turned towards him. Father. Dad. Someone I trusted far more than I could ever trust the Duke of Hessiod... that man would put the country first and foremost, every time, but Dad, Dad would be on my side. I knew it. I could feel it in my very bones. "Dad I- we have to talk." Oh, Now You Pick Up!? Dad didn''t take long to drop on his knee, crouching in front of me, placing both hands on my shoulders with the biggest, brightest grin you would''ve ever seen, so much so that it was blinding me really - luckily, I have resistance built up in this body of mine. "That''s wonderful!" "It''s terrible!" Dad was... a lot more enthusiastic about my newfound powers than I could ever hope to be. Magic was a gift that many possessed, but very few could ever hope to use. Most people only had a wisp of mana in their being, only the sufficient amount to be susceptible to magic and to be capable of interacting with it. Some thought all magic to be holy, but I, a former Saint, knew very well the difference between a regular magic user, and a true Saint. Tiara had made the difference between the two of us clear more than once, and most of the time, she wasn''t even aware that she was showing off, she was just that powerful. What was the biggest, greatest and most important difference between a Saint and a regular person? When a saint prays, God answers. No ifs, no buts, no questions asked. You pray for a lightning bolt from the skies to fall upon and split a tree in twain, then by all that is holy, a lightning bolt will split a tree in twain before you! Even if there isn''t a single cloud to be found in the skies, and the tree had to spontaneously grow from the green grass! I exaggerate only a little, throughout history Saints have had incredible power bestowed upon them by the Divine, and some even left writings about how they would meet an angel that would change their life, and from that moment onward, they would lead a blessed life. I read those books many times, I had based most of my public facing personality off of them! No angels were involved here, I hadn''t ever spoken to God, in fact one of the most terrifying acts I had to perform as a Saint in my previous life was prayer, simply because I knew it never would be answered. "How could it be?" dad asked, earnestly confused. "With this, you could be taken in by the church, and live a much better life than as the daughter of a nameless peasant!" dad reasoned. "Your mother would surely agree with me, and your brothers would be ecstatic!" Yeah, well, what if I don''t want that, dad? "What if I don''t want that, dad?!" Oh, right! I don''t have to just think things now! I can speak my mind freely, because I''m a kid again, and nobody expects me to be socially conscious! Even better, I''m a peasant, so I don''t have to worry about offending some overly entitled twat of a royal by forgetting the name of his third uncle fifteen times removed! "I don''t wanna go live in the church and do nothing but sit there all day while they parade me around!" I spoke more harshly than I intended, a little bit of the edge of the bitterness I felt from my previous life slipping through, unwelcome as it was right now. "I- but you''d get to have all the tasty food you want, and all the pretty clothes you could ever wish for, you''d be- you''d live and not have to worry about money ever again, or, or work, or-" I huffed. "Daaaaaaaad! Nobody gets to live without work!" I said. "He who doesn''t work, neither shall he eat, right?" I''m sure I butchered that. Rather work as a butcher than as a saint again. Dad sighed. "Well, yeah, but-" he shook his head. "Sweetie, this- this power of yours..." I tried not to let the fact that it hurt, when I realized that my father was genuinely not considering whether I wanted to be a saint or not. It felt disturbingly like my first life, except at least this time, my father''s making an effort to convince me that I chose it for myself, rather than me doing all the fooling on my own. If it''s like this, then I can just run awa- "It''s going to be really hard to hide," Dad said. "And if the church learns about it, there''s not much I can do about them coming to take you," he said. Wha- "Dad?" "Well, if you really don''t want that, then I won''t force you," he said, patting my head gently. "I''m glad you told me," he said. "But- your powers, sweetie, what are you going to do with them?" he asked. "I- if you really want to hide them, then I wouldn''t reproach you, but-" This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. I shook my head. "I don''t think- no, I don''t think hiding my powers is gonna be a thing dad," I said, sighing, scratching the back of my neck. "I think I''d feel pretty lousy if I just let people around me suffer with injuries or sickness if I can do anything about it," I admitted. Doing good feels good, I can''t help it. It was one of my few joys in my life as a saint, when they let me just... do my thing. Just go to a plagued village and apply what little knowledge of medicine I had, what little magic I could utilize, what little aid I could provide... when they let me just be the person I wanted to be, it was great! Too bad most of the time was spent with political bullshit. "I guess that''s why you don''t want to join the church, considering how jealously they guard their priests and mages," dad joked, "the life of an independant''s a harsh one sweetie, you''d have to hide the, uhm, the source of your power I guess? You think you can fake magic?" Oh, easily! "Sure!" I said. After all, I used to fake holy power using magic, how much more difficult could the inverse be? I just need to pretend I''m casting Heal instead of praying to God for His hand to descend upon us and do away with our plight and malady- Golden light washed upon us, and dad gasped, running his hands over his chest, going under the brown leather vest and rubbing along his side. "Oh, woah, wow, just, just wow, that was- that was nothing like I thought," Dad said, blinking in surprise and shock. "Was that-" "Oops?" I shrugged. "Uhh! I think this might be a problem!" I added, offering dad my best innocent smile. "Yeah... because Heal doesn''t remove old scars, and you just did," Dad said, grabbing at the hem of his shirt, a little ragged though it was, and raising it to show a surprisingly well muscled torso, that more importantly, was free of an old scar dad had, from when he had tried to become a soldier or town guard only to find he wasn''t suited to fighting. We both looked at each other. "Oh!" I blinked. High Heal could restore even old scars, but I wouldn''t blame dad for not knowing High Heal is a thing this far out in the boonies, but soon, soon we would be spreading literacy and knowledge even more! There are parts of my legacy I''m proud of, and being part of the push for a more educated populace is one of them! "I''ll try really hard not to pray by accident," I offered, nodding with a smile. "It''s okay since I can just say the words in my head, I just checked!" "That''s good, great even, amazing," Dad said, "but you think you can do anything about the golden glowing mist?" he asked, gesturing around us. "Because explaining this to your mom and brothers is going to be really difficult as is... Also where my all new clothes come from." "New?" I asked, blinking. "But these are old!" I gestured at his cheap and simple clothes, they were... old. Ratty even! "Old, threadbare and nearly falling apart, yeah- or at least, they were," Dad explained. Oh. Right. These were low quality low cost clothes, made with makeshift means and materials, that a baker used in his everyday work. It''s not that they were falling apart, it''s that they were made by someone who was doing the best they could with what they had... which means- "Ohhhh... so I didn''t just heal you, I healed your clothes as well?" I asked. Saints could do stuff like this? I never read anything about this. I mean I know a few blessed weapons and shields, and armors, there was a blessed armor enshrined in the Central Cathedral that I remember copying off of to make my own blessed items, but I''ve never heard about just... repairing things. As for the golden mist... "It should disappear on its own I think?" I said, waving my hands around me, the mist swirling and then seemingly getting the idea, gathering up in front of me into an ever shrinking ball that, with a humorous pop, disappeared instantly once it became too small to see. "I guess it''s nice like that!" I giggled. I wonder if it would obey other kinds of commands too? "Alright," Dad said, giving me one final smile before he stood back up to his full height, reminding me that I''m a shrimpy little kid now, "I think- we can probably do this. I don''t know how, but, maybe your mom knows someone, hunters sometimes do odd jobs for the big name adventuring guilds... she''s done a few so maybe she''s got a friend or something we could hire to teach you magic, and if you know magic, you could disguise your powers as magic!" I nodded. Learning magic would be... well, easy! I''ve forgotten more about magic than most people will ever learn! Which is why I think it''s probably a good idea to have a refresher course, especially because I can''t remember how to actually get my body ready to use magic anymore. It''s been so long since I''ve had to go through the beginners'' exercises that I cannot for the life of me remember them at all! Seriously, I only ever taught advanced courses as a guest lecturer too, I''m ashamed to think that I''ve forgotten so much of the basics! Therefore, I was entirely truthful in my joy! "Yaaay! That''s a great idea Dad!" I said, "If I become an adventurer at a guild, I can help people aaaaall over the place, without someone trying to tell me who I can and can''t heal!" "That''s right, sweetie! And more importantly, having the security of a big organization just in case helps!" Dad said with a smile. "Guilds are always looking for capable healers, so I''m sure you''ll have no trouble at all finding someone to take you." And the best part of this is, I don''t even have to fake being interested in the structure of a guild, and don''t have to pretend that I don''t already know it, because this is all new to me! I have no idea how a guild works, only the vague knowledge that Mom has imparted on me in this life while telling me an odd story or two. Honestly this is really the best! I knew trusting Dad was the right decision! Take that, Duke! This is what a Dad is supposed to be like! "Alright, so I guess the first thing to do is tell your mom and siblings, huh?" Dad said, ruffling my hair. "How about we wait until after the festival, though? Everyone''s gonna be super busy until then." I suppose that''s fine; there''s no urgency to this. Short of an urgency that required me to reveal my powers to everyone before I was even remotely ready to do so, we would be absolutely fine! The Eyes Have It Serious time was over! Festival time was a go! "Dad, look! It''s one of those street clowns!" I called out, pointing at a man dressed like a jester from my era, sitting on a weird wheeled device, juggling wooden balls with his hands, at the same time as he held a spoon with a white egg on his mouth, which he was periodically launching in the air, and catching back with the same spoon, using only lip movements. I was fascinated by the equilibrium and dexterity on display, as he began to move the wheeled device he was standing on back and forth, somehow managing to not move his upper body even as his lower body swung to his right and to his left, as his feet shifted on the iron bar that went through the middle of the wheel, somehow it seemed like the wheel rotated independently of the iron bar! What a fabulous little design, I couldn''t even imagine how any of this went together, much less how a human being could balance like that on top of it! In my day, the most agile and dexterous of jesters would perform pirouettes on horseback, but this is on a whole other level! This is truly the product of two hundred years of development- Oh woah! Dad grabbed me by the armpits and lifted me, putting me on his shoulders, and I quickly grabbed onto his head, swaying a little as I settled. "Daad you scared me!" Laughing, dad grabbed me by the ankles. "This is better," he said. The crowd at our little town had grown much more than I imagined it would. We were a growing community, and it seemed like people were gathering from the neighboring villages to come to the festival we were throwing, rather than having a much smaller celebration on their own. The Saint''s Birthday was apparently a big event, even though whenever I celebrated it, I did so on my own or with only my direct family. Crowds were exhausting, let me tell you! It''s a whole lot better to be in a crowd when you''re not the focus of their attention! So thank you, clown performing guy, for taking the burden of people''s attention onto yourself! If I wasn''t poor I''d give you a few coins for your trouble! As it is I clapped enthusiastically along with the rest of the crowd as the man finished his performance with one final throw of all his wooden balls high up, before he did a backflip that sent his weird wheeled device into the sky after them, and finally the egg as well, only to catch four balls on one hand the wheeled device in the other, and the egg directly on his face, in an obviously practiced way. With that said and done, dad carried me on his shoulders along the main street, where most of the attractions and stalls were set up. We got to see a lot more street performers as well as many foreigners hawking their wares, selling phony Great Saint themed merchandise to the unsuspecting festival attendees, as well as food stalls from every village and some who were bringing in specialties and delicacies from far away. Small though we might be, it was obvious that people were recognizing the worth of getting an in early. I ate so much stuff, you wouldn''t believe me! Meat on skewers is a staple of these festivals, of course, but it''s amazing to see all the new things that people have come up with! These dough balls fried in vegetable oil and sprinkled with sugar, sugar of all things, are surprisingly crispy on the outside yet soft and delicious on the inside, sweet as all getout, yet the deep fry has given them a savory taste that manages to reduce the overpowering sweetness of the sugar, and it''s so tasty, I couldn''t help myself! Dad was even chuckling as he gave me his, citing that he had to watch his weight in order to make sure he never got too fat for mom to like him anymore, but I scolded him. Everything I know about mom suggests that she likes dad for his personality, after all! I''m sure she''d never imagine leaving him just because he got a little chubby! Only villains do that! "Oh! Dad! What''s that?" I asked, using a hand to block out the sun from hitting my eyes so I could get a better look at what I meant, and pointing my hand at a bunch of people that were heading into an alley. They were wearing really conspicuous black hoods as they moved almost in unison, weaving through the somewhat thinner crowd at the edges of the street, going between two buildings and disappearing between the stone and wood structures. Dad frowned. "Hm... I wouldn''t know," he said, "I don''t think I''ve seen cloaks like these, they don''t look like a traveler''s..." he muttered. "They seem too fine and new and most travel cloaks aren''t usually sold in black..." "Why?" I asked, fascinated by the thought. I wore white almost exclusively as a saint, and browns and pale yellows and other cheap and easy to dye colors now, so I was at a loss here. "Well, black gets very hot out under the sun, and when you''re traveling, you''re gonna be under the sun a lot!" dad explained. "You really want something that''ll help you stay fresh and cool during summer you see!" he continued. "Okay sweetie this is really suspicious," he said, as he grabbed me by the sides and armpits once more, and put me down from his shoulders. I had to actually readjust to this whole standing thing, my legs were a little numb. "Can you stay here where there''s people?" he asked. "Uh uh!" I replied, nodding. "What''s wrong, dad?" "I''m going to go get a lawman," Dad said. "Best case scenario it''s just a bunch of rich travelers who just got a cloak that didn''t match the temperature, we have a quick chat and all''s cleared," he said, "but it''s never a bad idea to warn the lawmen there''s a suspicious lot hanging about." "Really? Just from their unusual cloaks?" I asked. "Well, these festivals attract all sorts, sweetie! There are those who don''t respect the great saint''s birthday at all," he explained to me, "and use it as a time to kidnap kids just like you." "That''s terrible!" I didn''t even have to exaggerate that reaction. Who does that?! Kidnapping children!? That''s straight up evil! If I still had my authority as a saint I''d send my holy knights after them! "So just stay here where people can see you, and if anyone you don''t know approaches you, scream, alright? Scream really loudly, there''s lawmen or deputized old soldiers all over the place during the festival, I''m sure someone''ll come to help you if you scream," Dad said, crouching beside me and raising his finger, as if to emphasize the importance of what he was saying. Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. "Un!" I nodded in assent. Screaming for people to come and help me is a skill I''d developed through years of getting caught up in my robes like an idiot, dad, don''t you worry! "Alright," Dad said, and got back on his feet, nodding to me before he disappeared into the crowd, walking with purpose and even showing off how skilled he was at traveling between crowds of people. I still had my sweet and sour deep fried doughball, which I was munching on, but there was a problem that I wasn''t aware I would be dealing with when dad left to deal with this. Namely... I quickly began to get bored. Hm. This is an issue. Usually I could sit idly for hours at a time, but I guess I usually had something to read. Do I even know how to read still? I looked around but the signs of the stalls only had numbers and pictures to them, there was no text anywhere, not even the signs from the stores. I guess even if people are becoming more literate little by little, it''s just easier and simpler to use eye catching images in signs. At least I''m glad to see there''s plenty of numbers, which suggest that people are at least capable of recognizing them, and basic arithmetic should be the norm too! Feeling smug, I took a bite out of my doughball and began to look around the people who were walking about, happy families with children as small as me, and as big as the adults they were accompanying, or rather, children just about to have their coming of age and becoming adults in their own right. Most people were smiling, there was the odd crying child, probably after their parents denied them a snack or toy they wanted, but people were mostly really happy, and it was great! Unfortunately, in the sea of people dressed in mute colors, nothing really stood out, until a small gap formed between the crowd and I caught a glimpse of the alley that was directly opposite the spot dad had left me at... Huh. It''s a little bit darker than it should be, the alleys don''t get much sun unless it''s high noon, and well, it''s not right now, so being caught in shadows is normal, especially since it''s two tall buildings, stores with storage and living spaces on the upper floors, so three story buildings on both sides. But that was unusually dark, I squinted my eyes and took a deep breath, focusing on the dark spot and trying to will my eyes to adjust to the darkness, putting a hand over them to act as a sunshade once again. With the glare of the sun blocked it was a bit easier to peer into the dark alley. I gasped in horror at the sight. There was a young boy there, and he was laying on the ground, clutching at his stomach. He turned his face to me, and in that brief moment, it felt like time stopped as our eyes met. He needed help! My instincts took over as I began making my way through the crowd, though it seemed to intensify and increase in amount of people the instant I tried to walk through it! Cursing my tiny body and short legs, I managed to push my way through, and finally made it to the alley, only to find that the young boy was nowhere to be found! As I blinked rapidly and my eyes adjusted to the penumbra of the alley, I saw a dark red pool where he had no doubt been laying down. I crouched and put my fingers to it. The smell and texture of blood was unmistakable. I could feel my face scrunching up as the smell hit me, no longer covered by the overpowering smell of unwashed people and the food stalls. I looked around a little and quickly caught the trail. Obviously the boy was still bleeding, because he had left a trail of blood stains on the hard packed dirt path between the buildings, which I quickly followed, walking as quickly as my tiny legs would allow me, tiring as it was. The paths between buildings were a bit of a twisty maze, which quickly became a rather dark path as well considering the height of the buildings along the main street. Seems like people had built taller, rather than wider, to maximize the worth of their plot of land, which was quite annoying at this time... but there he was! In a slightly larger opening between buildings, a place that looked like a coincidental clearing between the maze of walls of the buildings around it due to the shape of the storefront base floors, there he was, laying on the ground, clutching at the bleeding wound on his stomach. I raced to his side, and crouched beside him. "What an awful wound," I muttered, "it must be painful." "What the- who are you?" I turned to his face, and for a brief moment, I was captivated. His eyes were like sparkling amethysts, his features were sharp and regal, yet charmingly rugged, and even though he was scowling, I could see that he was more worried than angry. He had the features of someone who wasn''t used to scowling, but who could surely strip the paint off a wall when he did! It was hard to tell in the dark, but now that I was close to him, I could tell that his skin was tanned, not just from spending long days working in the sun, but the darker skin tone of the Suradians. I shook my head rapidly. "I''m- I''m- Anya! My name''s Anya!" I stammered out, trying my best to hold it together, even as I pulled his weak hands off of his stomach, which he could hardly fight against. I was starting to get a little nervous, and I had to resist the urge to loudly chastise myself. I''ve dealt with wounds dozens, hundreds of times before, I''ve dealt with far worse than this, and yet my hands are trembling, my mind is racing, and I could feel my breath escaping me as panic sets in, I need to regain control! Oh come on, me! Get a hold of yourself, you can''t be losing your mind just because he looks a little like- a little like- "Prince Alb-" I caught myself, my hands coming to cover my mouth as the boy''s eyes widened, and his jaw dropped but for a second in shock and surprise, before his eyes grew fierce. This wasn''t Albrecht, you idiot! Albrecht''d been dead for more than a hundred years! Besides, this boy doesn''t look like he makes lions look tame by comparison, Albrecht was a lot more rugged, this boy, this boy is almost adorable! If I were bigger I''d be pinching his cheeks as he scowled thinking it would make him look less cute but achieving the opposite! "You''re with them..!" he hissed, making as if to move, his face''s good looks twisting to a mask of anger and determination, only for him to gasp and hiss out as he collapsed back down, clearly in too much pain to move, groaning out in pain. "Stay still!" I commanded, "with how much you''re bleeding and the position of the wound, they probably got something important. Was this a knife?" I muttered. "It''s too wide and ragged for an arrow..." "Knife," he growled, "who are you?" If they''d gotten a kidney, then there was no way I could heal him, even though they had titled me a Saint, my healing powers were limited to what a simple spellcaster could do, I couldn''t help him, this was eating at me the same as- Wait! That''s not the case anymore! I forgot for a minute there, but if I- if I pray for him..! I brought my hands together, I was already on my knees. "Oh lord that dwells in the heavens and watches over us, please see it in your infinite mercy to bestow your blessings upon this wounded child and restore him with your might, I beseech you-" Between a moment and the next, golden light sprouted from nothingness between us, and covered him and myself, and I felt the divine power wash through me and into him, within moments, his wound was healed, though I felt the impact of calling upon divine powers as well, this wasn''t as free as I thought it''d be. Seems like healing him took a lot out of me, because I collapsed like someone had been holding me up and just let go, falling on top of him. "What the- I''m... healed?!" the boy that looked a little like Albrecht said. I panted and grinned, he caught me with his left arm and with his right he checked at his wound. "How- how!? No, could it be..?" "There was something over here, I think he''s over here!" someone''s voice, deep and rough bass, came from one of the alleys. "Shit..!" the boy growled. "They must''ve seen that!" he said, rapidly climbing to his feet, helping me up as well, only for me to be unable to hold myself up. "Come on we don''t have time for this," he muttered, as he gathered me up in his arms and picked me up. "Your name''s Anya, right? I need you to stay awake, we can''t stay here," he muttered, "grab onto me, I''ll carry you out of here, come on!" I did my best, but his voice was starting to sound distant. My head was swimming and pounding with a headache at the same time. It was like exhaustion caught up with me all of a sudden. "I... ughh... Albyy~!" I muttered, as I nuzzled into his embrace, wrapping my arms around his neck, trying to remember the few good times I had with Albrecht, even as I had to content myself with watching him and Tiara be happy with each other while I languished in my loneliness. He held me firmly, and the last thing I saw before I closed my eyes was the people in the black cloaks streaming into the small opening, as Alby picked a direction and took off, I heard the rasping of scabbards as knives and daggers were pulled out, and then, darkness... Gone Like The Wind Once upon a time, I dreamed of being picked up in Albrecht''s big, manly, strong arms... to bask in the security of his warm embrace, and simply be comforted by the thought that he loved me, and only me, and we would be happy for the rest of our lives. But that was a route closed off to me forever, never existed in the first place. The person he wanted was someone else. But in my dreams, like this, it felt so nice, to once again return to the life I''d lived, and maybe, just maybe, if I''d reached out, if I had spoken, if I''d just been less unwilling to take a risk... if I had been a little more like Tiara, who chased her dream and her love without fear of where it may lead her, would I have been as happy as she was? Albrecht looked down upon me, and the sparkling amethysts of the man I had once loved more than anything in the world looked down at me as he held me in his arms, and the sound I longed to hear most, his lips pronouncing my name- "Anya..." Yes, I- ... Something... "Anya..." It''s distant, as if I was hearing someone speaking underwater, far away, distracting and slowly prodding at my attention. "Anya..." And why- why like that? He''d... never called my name like that, had he? Not the second time, and certainly not the first, so why, why, why was he calling me like that..? Albrecht, why are you- "Anya!" Unless- My eyes opened, and though his voice and eyes were full of warmth and comforting affection, my father was certainly not Albrecht! I''m sorry dad, you''re just not that handsome, but you''re good in your own way I promise! Speaking of which. "What, what happened..?" I muttered, yawning as I came back to the land of the living. "What was I doing..?" I asked myself, more than him. It was a nice dream, but I could barely remember it. I only got an impression of my life before, of being taken in hands by my beloved and rescued from the hell of loneliness. I looked around. Dad took up most of my vision, but I could see, behind him- my brothers, and my mother. Anders forced dad out of the way, shoving him over and placing his hands on my shoulders, causing me to realize I was laid in bed. "Anya, you gave us a terrible scare!" He was very similar to dad in most things physical, but the rough callouses of his hands told me just how much time he spent holding his bow. At least my skin is less sensitive this time around, chalk one up for the rigors of peasantry, because otherwise he''d be hurting me just by holding me by the arms. His hair was short, shorter than I remember, but I dismissed the thought, he checked me all over, raising my arms, putting pressure on my chest and ribs and over my kidneys, clearly checking my face for reactions. He''s checking for internal, non-visible injuries, but if I''ve been unconscious for a while I''d start showing signs. Besides, I''m fine, and I feel fine. "I''m okay- stop that!" I cried, as he grabbed at my armpits and his fingers began dancing along them, oh you- "stop thaaat!" I cried out as he triggered a fit of giggles from me, I couldn''t hold them back even though I was trying. "Agitating her while she''s in bed, I''m sure that''s gonna just be amazing for her recovery after passing out," my other elder brother, Stephen, commented. "Oh you shut up!" Anders cried in response. "Can''t you see that I''m checking her for injuries, you useless groundworm? I''m checking her breathing! See!" his hands ran down my sides and I had no strength to stop him, and as he did, he somehow managed to hit every ticklish spot! The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Laughing my lungs out, I was forced to plead for him to stop, this was silly! "Staaaaaaahp!" I cried, "caaan''t, breeeaethe," I cried out, wheezing out the words and being interrupted by giggles and laughter that was actually straining me! "Ah cra- I-" Brother Anders'' head and neck were suddenly grabbed from behind, and he was pulled away. Brother Stephen looked at me while holding Brother Anders in a headlock. Despite being younger, Brother Stephen was bigger, broader at the shoulders and sporting an impressive musculature of his own. "I guess it falls to the responsible brother to stop you!" Mom interrupted all of this, however, in a single moment. You''d have a hard time imagining Mom and Dad were a couple. He was a baker who hardly ever left town, and she was a hunter, already they were disparate, but Dad''s slightly bland and boring appearance contrasted nicely with Mom''s muscular form. From what I remembered, she trained herself daily, more than anyone else, and was really proud of the body she had crafted through all that work. It was hard to see since she was covered with thick green robes now, but I''ve seen her wearing only the leather armor she uses for hunting, and she definitely has an Archer''s arms. She smiled kindly at me, a much more understated expression. She was taciturn at the best of times! "Are you alright, Anya?" she asked, softly. "Your father told us he found you passed out in the street, and you wouldn''t wake up..." she said, taking my hand in hers. This was... this was an inn, not our home, now that I looked around. "This is the Strickland Inn - Mister Strickland insisted to put you up here when he saw us panicking." Oh! Mister Strickland... bald, thick mustache and a well kept beard, about as big around as he was tall and a general busybody... I think. I''m not sure. Dad''s not always the most reliable of sources you know! "How do you feel?" dad asked. I hummed, and after sparing a glance at where Anders and Stephen, my oh so worried brothers, were locking horns like Pentagoats, I turned back to mom and dad. "I feel fine," I said. "I-" "We know - your father told us about the... magic," mother said, though her tone was a bit worried. "Sorry dear, I know you wanted to do it yourself," well... I did, and I wanted to do it on my own terms, but I can forgive you if you were worried dad, "but I didn''t know what to do so..." I shrugged. "I guess it''s fine," I said, "but- was there anyone with me? It feels like I was talking to someone," I said, "or maybe it was a dream?" It''s not so hot that I''d pass out but I''m also new to this whole Saint Thing, I really don''t know how holy powers work all that well. Humorous, I know, considering who I am, or who I was, or- whatever, I''ve never had holy powers before. I just pretended I did and used regular magic instead! "Well you were alone, just sitting against a wall when I found you. It must''ve been a dream," Dad said, crouching beside me and patting my head. "It... must''ve had to do with you using your powers. Sweetie, I know you didn''t want to... but we might need to go to the church... if your powers are dangerous-" "No!" I cried, shaking my head. "I''m fine, I feel fine!" I said, pushing Dad away and getting off the bed. "See?" I said, gesturing widely, "I''m fine!" I repeated, jumping in place and then bouncing on the balls of my feet, even throwing a few punches the way I''ve seen my brothers and mom do during their exercises. "See! I bet I could knock someone out right now!" I said, taking a few more swings. "If you put your thumb inside your fist, you''re gonna break it," Mom advised. "Here, like this," she said, showing me how to close my fist properly. "And put your weight behind the move, it''s not much but-" Dad cleared his throat. "Right," mom said, raising a hand to her mouth and faking a cough, "I''ll support you if you don''t want to go to the church, your intuition''s always been really good," she said, her expression hardening in a moment, "but if this happens again - or if we feel it''s necessary, we''ll do everything in our power to find someone who can help you with your powers, okay?" I looked aside. "Anya, darling... please," dad said. I sighed. "I''ll think on it," I said, finally. "I think I''ve got this," I said, "I must''ve just overused my powers or something," I said, raising my hand and looking at it. Concentrating on my magical energy, and using every exercise I''d learned in my long days bored out of my skull back at the Hessiod home, I created the most basic and simple of spells in my hand, a white, almost colorless, sphere of light- but- "Oh, how pretty..." It was no colorless sphere of solid light, but instead, it looked to be an almost liquid rainbow ball, moving and swirling and making every color dance in front of my eyes... "I- I don''t know what this is," I admitted, freely. Even my brothers stopped fighting to look upon the rainbow orb. I brought my other hand up and encased the malformed spell within my hands, shrinking it until it was only the size of a pea. It was... surprisingly draining to do so. There was so much power contained in this tiny ball, it was hard to compress it. Even though it was one of the most basic spells, even though it was one of the most basic exercises, just to even start learning how to cast proper magic. Light Ball was so simple and easy that even children could use it, provided they had sufficient mana and were taught how to manipulate it, and yet- This little ball alone, cast with my current body, eclipses what the Great Saint was capable of! "Woah, the little deerlet might actually be amazing after all," Brother Anders said, blinking as he looked into the orb I''d crafted. I let it return to its natural size, about as big as my closed fist, opened my hands and then began to tear the spell apart at the seams, letting it come undone, dissolving into multicolored mist that quickly faded into the air. And with that, I collapsed back onto the bed, sitting and panting as I did. "O-Okay, so I guess I know what that was then..!" I said, "turns out this magic stuff''s pretty tiring to do!" "H-How did you do that?" dad asked. "I''ve- I''ve heard that it takes years of instruction just to cast the simplest of spells, and, and you-" In my exhaustion, I couldn''t help it, I giggled. "Guess I''m just amazing, huh?" I said, shooting a smug look at Brother Anders. Brother Stephen chuckled, and elbowed our older brother in the ribs. "Yes, you are, you''ve always been," Mom said, patting my head. "But no more using magic willy nilly until you know it''s safe, alright?" she asked. "At least, not when you''re alone." "What, why?" I asked. "Imagine you pass out and collapse, and you hit your head, and there''s nobody to find you," mom said, "hunters never work alone for this reason. A minor injury can become fatal if left unattended for too long," she said. "So you only practice your magic when there''s somebody to supervise you, alright?" I nodded. "Okay, that makes sense," I said, "besides we have to make sure to keep the secret and it''s easier if there''s people to be the lookout, right brothers?" "I have no idea what you''re talking about, Deerlet," Brother Anders said. Brother Stephen whistled innocently. "Reminds me of us," dad said, swinging an arm over mom''s shoulders. Mom nodded. "Yes, I remember you would always run to fetch the guardsman whenever you caught us doing anything mischievous so we had to put up a lookout just to make sure you weren''t around." Dad visibly cringed, but the rest of us just laughed.