Starlight Manor

It takes Alois about thirty minutes of talking about the institution of sorcery and all of its evils before he even attempts to show her how to use it.

Sorcery, he tells her, is all monetary. Wealthy, powerful nations and individuals have had access to the greatest doctors and scientists for hundreds of years, and it was from them that sorcery was first discovered. Scientists found that magical aura ran in the bloodstream of every one of twenty thousand people, but it often stayed dormant; it was only one in about one thousand people who could actually use this aura to produce and use magic effectively. This was the natural order of things, the way they were made as human beings. But since the richest of the rich were the first to learn of these powers humans possessed, they used it to their advantage. They ran tests, long, cruel experiments on civilians with sorcerer abilities, to understand how and why sorcery worked in the way it did. What they found out was something fundamental: they were able to collect magical aura through sorcerers’ blood. They realized if they stole and stored the blood of enough sorcerers, only to inject it into themselves and their children, they would never be defeated. This, Alois explains as Lise listens intently, is the reason why magic in places like Wobenn seems so weak, so insignificant. The wealthiest nations like Pyrus to the north and Mrywel to the west, and wealthy, powerful families like the Starlights—had a history of plundering and killing hundreds of sorcerers in the poorest of lands, using their deaths to increase their own power.

Sorcery is like a muscle, Alois says. Harness it, practice it every day, and it will grow. Neglect it, fail to use it for long periods of time, and it will dwell and weaken substantially. Each power the individual sorcerer has is different, and it almost always relates to the personality of the individual, saying something about who they are at their core. It isn’t as simple as kind, empathetic people being more likely to get defensive and healing powers while cruel, power hungry people are more likely to get destructive ones, Alois says—although that can certainly be the case. He hesitates for only a moment before going on to say the power he possesses consists of being able to use wind abilities. He says he used to be able to uproot trees and send them flying into the air, but now it takes all of his strength to move only a person.

Lise understands immediately why he has these powers. Alois has always been stern and decisive, desperate for control. He desires to move things where he believes they fit, create the world as he wants it before him. Wind powers seem fitting.

“Do you think my strength is a weaker form of sorcery?” she pries Alois. “That’s what Mayuri told me, I think.”

“It probably is,” Alois says, and he shrugs. “Just bench press a couple of houses and you’ll be as strong as my mother.”

Lise’s eyebrows shoot up. “How strong is she?”

“The strongest,” Alois says.

Glum that she can’t magically unlock anything stronger within herself at the snap of her fingers, and even glummer that Alois refused to show her any of his magic—a weak, unimpressive waste of time, he said it would be—Lise suggests they go back inside so she can get started on some chores. She’s still intent on earning her keep here, no matter what kind of people live in this house. If anything, she’s even more motivated to stay hard working in the presence of Alois’s family.

Upon venturing back into the house, Lise and Alois find themselves frozen to the spot.

A little girl stands there in their kitchen, covered nearly head to toe in pure, dark blood.

Slowly, as if against her will, Lise’s head turns to stare at her friend.

Alois’s face is contorted in horror at the sight of her, his mouth going slack.

“—many did you get?” Alois’s older brother is asking her.

“Twenty.” Her voice is young and soft.

“And you burned the house down after you were done, correct?”

“Yes, Cami.”

“Good,” Cami praises her. He pets her hair, long and dark like her mother’s. “You did good, Weyah. Go wash up, now.”

“Cami,” Alois hisses. The word comes out venomous.

Weyah’s head snaps around, her blue eyes going wide.

“Alois!” she cries, delighted. She runs over to him and throws her arms around his waist, coating his entire white shirt in red.

Even so, Alois isn’t reluctant to hug back. He holds her tight, pressing a long, firm kiss to the back of her head. When he pulls back, his lips are smeared with crimson. “Hi, Weyah.”

“You’ve been gone for a long time, Alois,” Cami says simply. Again, he doesn’t even look at Lise. It’s like she’s completely invisible in his presence. “Someone had to take your place.”

“She’s nine, Cami.” Alois spits the number like a curse.

Cami tilts his head.

“You were younger,” he says, and Alois stiffens. “I was younger than you. The earlier, the better.”

“It’s okay, Al,” Weyah comforts him, pulling back to beam brightly up at him. “I’m safe out there. I’m good.”

“I know you are,” Alois says, forcing a smile back down at her. Lise can see the pain suppressed in his face. “Weyah, this is my friend Lise. She’s here for a couple of days to visit.”

The little girl turns her big blue eyes towards Lise. She’s an absurd sight, that childhood innocence doused in so much blood. Death all over her face, her clothes, her hands.

“Hello, Lise,” she says, and when she smiles up at her, there’s even blood in her teeth.

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A bit of a shorter chapter today—thank you everyone for reading! Please comment with any feedback! ♥️