The next morning, I led Catherine and Juliet through the pretense of ritual importance.

  The new trunk waited there, the goo inside glinting faintly like some unholy oil.

  I crouched beside it, blindfold still in place, and spoke softly. “Today… we have another. Another to save. Another witness, perhaps. Another piece of the world that needs restoration.”

  Catherine and Juliet leaned closer, curiosity and apprehension mirrored in their wide eyes. They had been trained to respect the rituals, the process, and the sanctity of what I did, and they watched with quiet reverence.

  I opened the trunk slowly, careful not to disturb the strange viscous goo more than necessary. Inside, the pieces were arranged with the same deliberate order as before, though the shapes and angles were different. My eyes immediately caught the hair - rough, dark red, and short.

  A girl. Another girl. Only one. Far smaller than the other girls, but she didn’t seem younger. nor frail. I blinked behind the cloth.

  A dwarf? A gnome? Some sort of other smaller race?

  The goo was the same strange substance as before. I still didn’t know its origin, its purpose, or why it preserved broken bodies in this particular way. But the knowledge from the first experiment had taught me enough to proceed with caution.

  This time, no mistakes.

  The girls watched as I began preparing the area and arranging the pieces.

  “This is a single girl,” I murmured, lifting a fragment carefully. ”That will make things… simpler.”

  Catherine tilted her head. “Will she… live?”

  “If we do it carefully, yes. She will live.”

  Juliet's hand brushed the trunk lightly, hesitant but supportive. “Can we help?”

  I nodded slowly, appreciating the gesture, though I knew that at this stage, involvement was mostly observation. “Watch. Learn. One day, you will understand exactly how delicate life can be.”

  I put the pieces right on a large piece of fabric, inside a warm house- well, shack, this time by the other trunk inside.

  First, I had to lift the spell that was on the pieces and then heal them.

  I was getting ready for the pain that would follow.

  “Heca.” The oozing began; blood and so on, then I quickly said, “Eir-Pana-Tuo-Kane.”

  I kept my composure, my voice calm, but inside, a storm of questions raged: What if this one was different? What if something went wrong?

  I could see the faintest hint of a pulse, just enough to tell me she was still… viable.

  It didn’t take long. Slowly, very slowly, the girl’s eyelids fluttered. Her first breaths were shallow and calm and uncertain, almost like she woke up to a world she didn’t belong to.

  She shivered violently, shoulders trembling, and her wide, terrified eyes darted around the dim light of the shack.

  Catherine and Juliet stepped forward immediately, kneeling beside her with careful movements. Their hands brushed hers, softly, reassuringly, whispering words I didn’t fully need to hear.

  “Shhh… it’s okay,” Catherine murmured. Her voice was steady, calm, carrying authority without aggression. “You’re safe. You’re alive. That’s all that matters right now.”

  Juliet added softly, “We were like you once. But we’re okay now. You can be too.”

  The girl’s hands twitched, her eyes darting from one to the other, fear and confusion wrestling in her gaze. Catherine brushed a hand over her hair, brushing the stray strands aside.

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  I sat back against a wall, letting them take the lead. I could have spoken, could have tried to soothe her myself, but these two - their touch, their voices, their presence - it worked.

  She responded slowly, the shivering easing just enough for her to meet their eyes.

  I watched as they whispered, explaining what I had told them: the evil god Entropy, the sacrifices, the need for vigilance, and the work we had begun. She listened, small nods and hesitant words forming, trying to repeat back what they told her.

  She had sat upright, supported by the girls’ hands.

  Catherine and Juliet’s faces were calm, almost serene, commanders of the moment. The new girl’s expression was still fearful, but she was here, alive, listening, and absorbing.

  When the time came, I spoke softly, letting my voice carry the weight of ritual authority, “You… you may join us, if you choose. If you wish to help, to fight, to bear witness… you may be part of our cause.”

  Her eyes flickered between the two girls and me. Slowly, tentatively, she nodded.

  I let the three of them settle, murmuring reassurances, sitting close to the fire I had built. I did not intrude. My work, my story, was done for now. I could only watch as my lie took on a life of its own.

  The next day, I could not be there. My family demanded my presence for a royal event: a reception, or a council, or some tedious combination of both. I couldn’t probe for information; I was four years old still, and curiosity could only go so far.

  I would have to travel with them to another city for some reason.

  Before I left, though, I found a quiet moment. I slipped to the forest stronghold, away from servants’ eyes, careful not to draw attention.

  I told them, “I have… business to attend to. Important business. You will manage here."

  Catherine and Juliet both nodded immediately, accepting the responsibility. The new girl, still fragile, looked between them, hesitant, searching.

  “Teach her,” I said softly. “Help her understand. If she wishes to join… she is welcome. Always welcome. Do not let her falter. I place my faith in you.”

  I had planted a seed, entrusted it to them, and for now… I had done enough.

  The next day I found out where we were going. Astar is the capital of the country of Asolar.

  Even as a four-year-old boy trying very hard to pretend I was just a four-year-old boy, I could feel there was something to the journey ahead. Days of preparation went into it. Miss Marie fussed endlessly over my posture, my clothing, and my diction. The maids packed trunks with formal wear that I would undoubtedly hate.

  Jakob was excited; he loved the idea of court life, all gleaming halls and magical prestige. Maren did not care for it at all, but she trained twice as hard in the week before departure.

  It seemed my brother was a turn-up-his-nose snob and my sister was kind of a tomboyish brat.

  Our father, Baron Lightbane, was summoned to attend something that sounded important, though nobody thought to inform the child in the house of the details.

  I couldn’t imagine what it was.

  But that wasn’t what made my stomach twist.

  What made me uneasy was leaving my ‘order’ behind.

  They were capable, yes. But they were children left alone in the wild.

  Oh, I was probably making something out of nothing.

  They’re fine. They’re superhuman.

  So on the morning we left the manor, before the sun even cleared the tree line, we were off to Astar.

  We crossed Endil, and after a week Astar rose on the horizon.

  We all looked out in wonder; even Maren sat frozen, staring.

  Astar made the Endil and the Lightbane manor feel like a cozy hut in a backwater.

  The city was large, very large, and it was dense.

  I felt like it was strangely modern, but I wasn’t sure of the technological level in this world.

  I’d assume it was medieval. Maybe it was closer to the Renaissance or even the Industrial Revolution?

  Father led us to a “temporary” manor that was still larger than most noble families would ever own. Four floors of polished stone, wide balconies wrapped with silver-trim fencing, and stained-glass windows

  Servants scrambled the moment we entered - dusting already-clean furniture, fluffing pillows that looked immaculately fresh, and bowing every other second.

  “Can we make this faster?" Father ordered. “We are expected at the palace before the bells.”

  Expected for what?

  And why?

  I couldn’t ask - questions from toddlers were a decoration at best and an inconvenience at worst.

  Jakob was given red robes embroidered with gold and sigils declaring his status as heir.

  Maren was given a nice blue dress, the color of her hair.

  And me?

  Miss Marie fussed over every thread on my outfit. But in the end I looked like an expensive doll.

  “You must look the part, young master,” she said with a stern finger. “Composure and dignity. No fidgeting.”

  I nodded, but I really thought this noble stuff was a kind of bullshit.

  But I felt like something was happening.

  Something big.

  But no one would openly discuss it with the four-year-old.

  Once we were all dressed, Father gathered us near the doors. He looked… tense. Not fearful, Alarick Lightbane forgot what fear was after his wife’s death, but still, he looked wary.

  “Behave yourselves, children,” he said.

  Then the manor doors opened.

  Our carriage rolled out into the bustling streets, crossing the entire city and reaching the heart of the country of Asolar: the Asolar Palace.

  A structure that made the sky look small, with wings of carved marble extending toward the heavens. A beacon of beauty.

  As we approached the main gate, guards in pristine armor lowered their halberds and bowed. Our father stepped out first; though his rank was low, his presence pulled respect like gravity.