PROLOGUE 3: FATHER

Fazian had his hand draped on his sister. He could remember very little about her. When he was younger, it had taken a lot of effort to separate him from his sister the times he had seen her. Now, however, he was older, and it was difficult to feel much for her. He had not met with her for over a decade after all.

In the beginning, he had asked his mother over and over to bring him to see his sister. Maore had smiled each time and told him that he would see her soon. As the years passed though, he had slowly forgotten about the fact that he had a sister.

As his mother had instructed, he had never spoken of her to any other children or adults. This was because Maore had instructed him over and over that bad people would want to take away his sister, and as the elder sibling, he had to do everything in his power to protect her.

Fazian was absent-minded as Maore continued to read the story, wondering whether his little sister remembered him. It had, after all, been a long time since they last met, would she still remember how he had carried her around the family grounds in an attempt to make her laugh? After they ran around, she would always upchuck the contents of her stomach because he had been too rough in tossing her around.

Despite this, she was very sticky to him. She never wanted to let him go even after much coaxing from their mother. Now, however, she was trying as much as she could to make space between them on the small bed.

Maore did not notice this predicament her two children had as she was concentrating on reading from the book.

Almathea concentrated on her mother's voice. It had been two years since her mother had read to her, or since she had simply heard her voice. Therefore, she would not dare sleep during this time.

It was thanks to her brother that Maore had begun from the first page, and for that, his level in her heart had risen slightly. Almathea thought this over for a few seconds before shortening the already small space between them.

This action was small, however, it made Fazian suddenly feel very protective over the girl who lay next to him. She had grown almost as tall as their mother, and since he towered over their mother, he also towered over her.

Therefore when he cuddled with Almathea, he felt his brotherly protective instincts fill his system. He cuddled closer to her and sunk his face into her hair.

Almathea did not speak any words as she was attentively listening to her mother read the book.

An hour later, the two left Almathea's room.

Almathea had not fallen asleep this time. It was only midafternoon after all. Why would she fall asleep?

With the sudden loss of the security she felt when she was cuddled up with her brother gone, Almathea felt sad. She did not understand why she felt her test tighten up. She did not care much for that brother of hers after all.

This was the last time Almathea had seen her mother and brother in such a calm atmosphere.

*

It was only a few months later when Maore came into the room. This time, with her, there were two large men. Both men were tall, towering over both Almathea and Maore. They had dark skin, and their hair was short and wiry.

Almathea took a step back. "Mother?" She spoke hesitantly.

Maore had a sad smile on her face. Her eyes were red as if she had been crying and dark shadows adorned under the skin of her eyes. Almathea frowned and placed her hand over her mother's cheek. It was cold and sticky. "Mother…"

Almathea's words were cut off when Maore spoke up, "Almathea, Father summons to talk to you."

Almathea paused. In her nearly seventeen years, she did not have any memories of her father. She could not even picture how he could look. Certainly, she did not want to go out of her room. If she had been given this information when she was younger, no doubt she would have run out of her room excitedly.

However, the situation was different now. She was perfectly content staying in her little room and gaining the books she had been reading up until now. She had completely understood her position as an unwanted child over this time.

Almathea wanted to protest, saying that she would not leave her room no matter what. She had a feeling that these people did not have good intentions at the moment. She was ready to protest as she had back when she was younger.

She had barely let out a word when Maore walked over to her, the usual smile on her face. She spoke in a barely audible whisper, "Thea, are you afraid of the big men who are with mother?"

Almathea paused and considered her mother's question. Of course, she was scared. She had not been out of the room for over a decade. To tell her to leave it all of a sudden was simply terrifying.

Almathea nodded softly.

Maore smiled and stretched her hand out. "Do not be worried, Thea. Mother will protect you."

At the promise, Almathea could not help the small smile that fell onto her face. She gave her hand to the one person she trusted. Maybe, just maybe, her mother had spoken to her father about not forgetting her existence and she could live her life out of the four walls that had been more of her prison.

Maore gave a small glare to the men her husband had allocated to her. They stared back at her but backed off.

At noticing the men were working under her mother, Almathea moved forward.

For the first time in over a decade, Almathea left the room she had called home.

She walked silently next to her mother. She had been in the west wing of the house, which was rarely used. Almathea's hands shook as her eyes flitted over the little knickknacks that were in the hallway just outside her room.

The knickknacks were covered by a small layer of dust. The hallway was devoid of any noise apart from their footsteps on the wooden floor.

As they approached the middle wing, Almathea could easily notice the difference between the two wings.

The tapestries in this wing were larger and had more intricate designs. Everything shone with a certain gleam. Their footsteps were muffled by the carpeted floor.

Almathea followed her mother up the steps to the third floor to their mansion. As they walked, she noticed that, contrary to her expectations, there were close to no people running around the house.

It was almost as if it was a ghost house.

She did not raise any questions concerning this. When she had been shut up, from her window, she could always see the people coming in and out of the mansion. It made the house quite lively to say the least. Now, however, her expectations about the lively house were shattered.

Maore led her up a flight of stairs that led to an equally empty corridor. There was a large floor-length window that let in streams of sunlight into the room. It was unmistakably beautiful. Almathea did not have the chance to appreciate this beauty as her mother grabbed her hand and pulled her along.

They arrived in front of a large door at the end of the hall. Almathea was tempted to peep from behind her mother, however, she did not dare. She was going to unknown territory. To reveal herself could have consequences.

Maore knocked on the door twice. A low voice sounded from inside, confirming that they could come in. Maore gave Almathea a small smile as if telling her not to worry before pushing open the door.

The two burly men who had been following behind them did not follow them into the room. The room was lit lowly making it hard to see clearly inside.

It was only after Almathea had stepped in that she saw two figures at the end of the room. One of them was standing while the other was seated behind a large desk.

After her eyes got accustomed to the light in the room, she looked at the two figures with an indiscernible look on her face. The standing figure was her brother while the seated one looked like the older carbon copy of her brother.

Maore bowed at the waist and Almathea bowed at the waist after her mother.

.

S/T:

Almathea: Why do you summon me, father? Have I made any trouble?

Maore: Impossible! (Le gasp)