At the Dane villa's poolside, the night air was cool and heavy with the scent of wine. Ruceous Dane Silithrae leaned back in his chair, one leg crossed lazily over the other. He swirled the deep red liquid in his glass, his eyes reflecting the stars above.
"Having fun after humiliating your own blood?"
The mocking voice came sharp from behind him. Serelaithe's footsteps echoed across the stone as she approached, her eyes burning.
Ruceous looked up, his expression blank, unreadable. "I know what you're thinking, Sere."
Her brow twitched, frustration tightening her face. With a sudden crash, her hand slammed against the table beside him, splintering its edge.
But Ruceous didn't flinch. He simply let the wine bottle and two glasses rise into the air with a wave of his hand, his voice calm, infuriatingly detached. "Sit down, Sere. It's not the night for violence."
"You—" Serelaithe's voice trembled with contained fury, "you never understand the feeling of a mother."
For a heartbeat, silence stretched between them. Then, with a hiss of breath, she dropped into the chair beside him, seizing one of the levitating glasses and downing a sip.
Her voice softened, but it carried more venom than before. "I never expected you to react to her presence like that. How could you, Ruceous? Do you even know how much she lit up when she heard about you? About Tahoron? And that damn boy—Tahoron isn't the type to bully anyone, yet the second he heard she was his sister, he tried to break her. What's wrong with you two?"
Ruceous's gaze stayed fixed on the wine. His voice came low, almost breaking. "I don't want to lose her like… her mother."
The air stilled.
Serelaithe's eyes narrowed. She scoffed, her rage returning in waves. "Lose her like her mother? Brother, are you insane? You've already abandoned her—like some orphan, like she's worthless! Don't you dare—don't you dare—talk about her mother. Her death has nothing to do with you. Raising your daughter? That's your responsibility. And you—" her voice cracked with fury, "—you've run from it. You don't deserve my little Ruby."
With that, she smashed her glass onto the stone floor, shards scattering like stars.
Ruceous's voice was quiet, defeated. "Maybe you're right. Maybe I don't deserve her."
Serelaithe shot to her feet, trembling with rage. "Just don't give up on her, brother. That's the least she deserves. She has high hopes for you, even now. That's why she agreed to join Elarion—because she wants to learn who she is, so she can one day call you 'Father' with pride."
At that, Ruceous stiffened, his eyes widening in shock. "Ethereal… to Elarion? But she's only eleven."
Serelaithe's laughter was bitter, mocking. "Who cares? When her own father abandoned her, she decided to prove herself—at her fullest. That little crimson baby is going to show you she's stronger than all your excuses."
She snatched the bottle of wine, tilted it back, and drank straight from it. Her eyes gleamed as she turned to leave. "And don't waste your breath telling me to watch over her. I already am. I'm her godmother."
Her footsteps echoed into the villa, leaving only silence behind.
Ruceous stayed where he was, staring blankly at the night sky. The stars shimmered above him, brilliant and unyielding, as if mocking the cracks in his heart.
Coming to other side,
That night, sleep refused to come.
Ethereal tossed and rolled across the vast bed, its silken sheets swallowing her like a restless tide. No matter how she wrapped herself in the blankets, this strange new room felt too big, too silent, too lonely. With a growl of frustration, she sat up, ruffling her hair until it stuck up like a wild crown.
Her gaze drifted to the small travel bag resting by the table. Moonlight streamed in through the tall windows, spilling silver across the floor. She padded over, unfastened the bag, and dug through its contents. Books, trinkets, folded clothes—and tucked neatly on top, Roni's handmade muffin-shaped crochet.
Her chest tightened. Beneath it, her fingers brushed something smooth and cool. Curious, she dug deeper and lifted a silver chain. Dangling from it was a ruby pendant, glowing faintly in the moonlight.
Her throat caught. The gift I should've gotten on my birthday…
Her hands trembled as she held it. The necklace her aunt had meant for her, waiting for the day she turned eleven. But now… Roni wasn't here.
Hot tears pricked her eyes. Ethereal fought them back, forcing herself to breathe—inhale, exhale, inhale—but the ache swelled harder with every breath. Finally, she slipped the chain over her neck, clutching the ruby close against her heart.
She needed air.
Slipping quietly down the staircase, her bare feet against cold marble, she noticed a faint glow from the kitchen. A clatter, a muffled laugh, a rustle of voices. She crept closer, peering around the doorframe—
—and nearly burst out laughing.
Flour dust hung in the air like fog. Servants stood with streaks of chocolate across their faces, bowls tipped sideways, and broken molds scattered over the counters.
"What's going on, guys?!"
Every head snapped toward her. In an instant, they froze, stiff as statues, before bowing in perfect unison.
Ethereal chuckled, covering her mouth. She stepped into the room and dusted flour from the head butler's shoulders. "So what's the matter? Is everything okay?"
The servants exchanged nervous looks. Then, almost conspiratorially, they guided her to a chair. Someone plopped a soft chef's cap on her head. A small, uneven chocolate cake was placed before her, a single candle flickering on top.
The head butler cleared his throat. "To our dear young miss, Ethereal Deus Dane… we sincerely apologize for not meeting the expectations of a grand birthday party. We… attempted to prepare this ourselves. But as you see, it did not turn out as intended." He lowered his gaze, ashamed.
Ethereal stared at the crooked little cake. A laugh bubbled out of her throat—half laugh, half sob. Her hands trembled as tears streamed down her cheeks.
The servants panicked. "My lady! Please, forgive us—we didn't mean to upset you—"
But she shook her head quickly, smiling through her tears. "I love you guys."
The room fell silent. Then, slowly, smiles bloomed across every face. Relief and warmth filled their eyes. Several maids rushed forward, hugging her tightly, and even the stern head butler's cheeks flushed pink.
They sang for her softly as she cut into the little cake. She lifted a bite to her mouth—rich, sweet, clumsy, but filled with love. "It's delicious," she said with a grin.
Xero wiped at the corner of his eye with a kerchief, voice thick. "We usually… skip celebrations on this day. It is the mourning day for our Madam Dane. The chefs and servants are always given leave." His hands shook as he smiled at her. "But this year… we couldn't ignore your birthday, my lady. We wanted to make something… just for you."
Her chest swelled with warmth so strong it almost hurt. Together, they shared the cake in little pieces, laughing at the mess they'd made, until the heaviness of grief loosened its grip.
Later, back in her room, Ethereal curled up beneath the blankets. The ruby pendant pressed gently against her skin, glimmering faintly as though responding to her heartbeat. Her eyelids drifted shut at last, and for the first time since losing Roni, she fell asleep smiling.