Success had given Aveline power.
But power, she believed, meant nothing if it only benefited herself.
The idea had been forming for months—quiet, persistent, impossible to ignore. It took shape not in meetings or ledgers, but in the narrow streets outside her first shop.
Children slept there.
Some huddled beneath broken awnings.
Some begged with hollow eyes.
Some simply watched the world pass, too tired to cry.
Aveline saw them every morning.
And every morning, something in her chest tightened.
She remembered another annex.
Another child left behind.
Another life survived only because someone chose not to look away.
The children in the shop were different. While they too suffered because their parents could not afford to feed them, once Aveline gave the opportunity to the women, their children soon knew warm clothes and full bellies. But that wasn't the case for all children.
In the slums, many children would lose their parents, or be abandoned. They were left to fend for themselves. Aveline was already familiar with the homeless and how their situations occurred. She had no remorse for men and women who lost it all due to their drug or gambling addiction. But Children were different.
They had not yet learned cruelty.
They did not yet understand greed.
They were shaped by the world—but not yet consumed by it.
They were innocent, she believed.
The only ones who truly were.
********************************
The decision was made quietly.
No announcements.
No ceremonies.
Aveline summoned Everett one evening and spoke as if discussing inventory.
"I want to open an orphanage."
Everett stilled.
"For children without parents," she continued. "And children whose parents cannot feed them."
Everett studied her carefully.
"This isn't charity for show."
"No," Aveline said. "It's an investment."
"In what?"
"In people."
Everett nodded once. He understood what she meant. The cornerstone of any business is its people. And if they could raise the people themselves, they would be sure of their trustworthiness and their skill level.
"Tell me what you need."
"We'll need to purchase a building. Nothing too small that we run out of space and so we can take in as many people as we can. We'll also need people. Caretakers. They need to be good with children. We'll also need expense for food, furniture, toys for the children. I know its going to be expensive, but I can fund it. I have the money. This isn't an expense for the business, but rather a personal one." Aveline rambled, as if she had prepared this speech a long time ago.
"Okay Okay, calm down," Everett stopped her, hands pushing air in front of him as if trying to ease a horse. "I can get the building and the furniture stuff taken care of. But this doesn't have to solely be on your shoulders. The money I mean. I know you want to be the one to do it, but I can also donate some."
"You don't have to. I can.."
"I know you can" Everett stopped her mid sentence. "But I want to. Let your bro do something nice for other people once in a while too. I'm sure it'll earn me some good fortune too, hopefully in finding a nice lady." He smirked.
"Disgusting" Aveline said, fighting back a smile.
"About the people. What about hiring nun trainees? A lot of the orphanages are managed by churches, mainly by the nuns. Maybe we can find some nuns who would be interested in running ours."
"Do you think they will?" Aveline asked, unsure. "Nuns are basically religious figures. They wouldn't want to abandon their churches to manage a privately run orphanage and get money, would they?"
Aveline, while not a historian, had read enough stories to know what religious figures were like in this era. They were pretty much the same as they were in modern society. The upper echelon was obsessed with wanting to seem pure and uninterested in the modern world, while simultaneously having never ending greed for it. And the people lower in the chain, they were more passionate.
"What? No? What are you talking about? No?" Everett couldn't even understand what his sister was on about. "Nuns leave the church all the time to start their own thing. Its not like they are bound by contracts."
"Oh…." perhaps this world was different. Not like magic wasn't an indicator for that already.
"Then we can maybe start looking into the nuns. But we also need people that are skilled in teaching."
"Teaching? Teaching what?"
"Anything. Everything" Aveline raised her arms above. "Education is key to their growth. They must learn how to read, write, calculate, create, imagine. Everything. Anything!"
If there was one thing Aveline was passionate about, it was learning. Her strength and understanding in magic didn't come from her past life. It wasn't like she was born to be strong. There was nothing from the regular world that could have helped her reach a level so high in magic. Except reading. She read. She understood. She applied. That was all there was to it.
"You want to hire teachers… for orphans?"
"I want to hire teachers for orphans." She smiled back gently. Everett knew what that smile meant. It meant this wasn't something that needed questions or debate about.
All he could do was sigh. "This feels like its gonna be really expensive."
Aveline only smiled in response. "All good things are, one way or another."
**************************************
Aveline chose the location herself.
Not in the noble district.
Not hidden in the slums.
But between them.
A sturdy, unused stone building—once a warehouse, long abandoned. It had thick walls, open space, and a small ground behind it. Everett handled the purchase quietly, no questions asked.
They renovated slowly.
Beds before decorations.
Kitchens before classrooms.
Warmth before beauty.
Aveline hired caretakers with ruthless scrutiny.
Anyone with greed in their eyes was dismissed immediately.
Anyone who saw children as burdens never made it past the first conversation.
She watched how they spoke to the children of her employees in the shop.
How they reacted to filth, fear, and anger.
How they listened.
Only those who knelt instead of towering over a child were accepted.
************************************************
People always say that your first child is very special. While she wasn't a mother, she would remember the day she took in her first children for ever.
She had gone out alone, dressed plainly, her hair tied back, a basket of bread tucked under her arm. The capital was restless—vendors shouting, carts rattling, the air thick with smoke and dust.
Then she heard crying.
Not loud.
Not desperate.
Just… tired.
Aveline paused.
The sound came from an alley narrow enough that sunlight barely touched the ground. She hesitated only a moment before stepping inside.
There were three children.
Two were kneeling.
The third lay still.
The girl was the first to notice her. She stiffened, eyes sharp despite the tear tracks on her cheeks.
"Don't come closer," she warned, her voice shaking.
Aveline stopped immediately and crouched instead.
"I won't," she said gently. "I promise."
The boy beside the girl was younger, maybe thirteen. His fists were clenched so tightly his knuckles had gone white.
"He's not dead," the boy said quickly, as if daring her to argue.
"He's just… sleeping."
Aveline's gaze shifted to the third child.
Too thin.
Too pale.
Breathing shallow.
Not sleeping.
Starving.
She set the basket down slowly.
"What's your name?" she asked the girl.
The girl hesitated.
"…Lina."
"And you?" Aveline looked at the boy.
"Tomas."
Her eyes returned to the unconscious child.
"And him?"
The girl swallowed.
"Aaron."
Aveline reached into the basket and tore a piece of bread in half, offering it with open palms.
"May I help him?"
Lina didn't answer immediately, still on guard.
Then Tomas nodded. Something within him understood that even if it was a risk trusting this stranger, there was nothing else they could do.
************************************
They carried Aaron together.
Aveline took most of the weight, murmuring softly as they walked.
"You're safe," she whispered—not sure who she was saying it to.
At the orphange, the caretakers moved quickly, laying Aaron on a bed, feeding him broth in careful sips.
Lina and Tomas stood stiffly near the door.
They didn't sit.
They didn't relax.
Eyes fixed on their friend.
Aveline noticed.
She crouched again, bringing herself to their level.
"He'll be okay." she said. "You don't have to be worried."
Lina's jaw tightened, anger in her eyes. What would this woman know?
"People always say that. Don't give them money. They'll be okay. They're just doing this as a business. They're working with the beggars."
Aveline nodded.
"They do." She was familiar with the idea. Even back in her previous life, she had seen many beggars. While initially she would help whatever way she could, there were just too many thoughts of this being a scam for her to continue doing so. Maybe they were using it for drugs. Maybe they were part of the beggar mafia just using this as an excuse to earn easy money.
But even if the children were part of such a scam, she would still help them. They were children.
Tomas glanced toward Aaron.
"If we leave… can he stay?"
Aveline's chest tightened.
"You can all stay," she said simply.
Silence fell.
"This place… I made it for you."
"For us?" The girl, Lina, questioned. She still seemed skeptical, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop. As if there was no way something like this would happen without demanding a cost. These children had to grow up too quickly, Aveline thought.
Aveline smiled. "Why don't you guys eat something first and we can talk then."
That answer seemed to confuse them more than any threat would have.
***************************
Aaron woke that night.
Weak.
Confused.
Alive.
Aveline sat by his bed. The other two kids right in front of him as he opened his eyes.
"Did we die?" he croaked towards Lina.
She smiled faintly.
"No."
He frowned.
"…Pity."
Lina slapped his arm. "Don't say that!"
Aveline watched them quietly before speaking. Aaron's eyes finally landed on her. "Who are you?"
"I'm Evora," she said.
"She helped you. Helped us." Tomas spoke.
"Where are we?" Aaron asked, lifting himself up.
"This is a place for children who want a chance. I made it for you guys. For children like you. A place for people who didn't have one. If you stay, you'll work when you can, learn when you can, and help others when you're able."
Aaron studied her through half-lidded eyes. This was too complicated for him to understand. But he knew he felt warm in the bed, he wasn't hungry anymore.
"And if we leave?"
Aveline met his gaze evenly.
"Then I'll give you food for the road."
Tomas whispered, "You don't even know us."
Aveline smiled.
"That's why this is a choice. You don't have to make one right now, though. Stay as long as you'd like." She smiled and told them all to rest for now, before making her way out of the room.
******************************
Three days passed.
They watched her.
How she spoke to the caretakers.
How she listened when children said something.
How she never raised her voice.
On the fourth night, Aaron spoke.
"We'll stay."
Aveline looked at him.
"But only if we help," he added.
"We don't want to be useless."
Aveline nodded once.
"You'll help when you are able to"
"What do you mean?"
"Well for now, you will have to eat and rest. And then, you can start learning."
"Learning? Learning what?" Tomas asked.
"Learning whatever we teach you." She smiled back. "And when you learn enough, you can start helping us. But you can still clean around and stuff."
This wasn't an academy. The children weren't being catered for. They would still have to do what was asked of them. Except the things that are asked of them would be what any child in the modern world was asked to do. Chores.
Lina's shoulders shook as she let out a breath she'd been holding for years. If they could stay here only for things like cleaning, then this was almost heaven.
Tomas smiled—small and uncertain, but real.
That night, as the orphanage settled into sleep, Aveline stood alone in the hall.
Three children.
Just three.
But every fire began with a single spark.
And she would protect this one—even if the world tried to snuff it out.
********************
The orphanage was named simply:
Haven's Hearth.
A place where a fire never went out.
At first, it housed only orphans.
But as word spread, parents began to come too—desperate, ashamed, exhausted.
"I can't feed them," one woman sobbed.
"Please. Just until winter ends."
Aveline listened.
And adjusted.
Haven's Hearth grew.
It began accepting children from poor families—not to take them away, but to help them survive. Parents were offered work: cleaning, cooking, teaching, maintenance. Children stayed close to those they loved while gaining safety and education.
It became something more than an orphanage.
It became a lifeline.
***************
Late one night, Aveline stood in the doorway of the main hall, watching children eat warm meals, their laughter echoing softly against stone walls.
Everett stood beside her.
"You know," he said quietly, "you could've built ten more shops with this money."
Aveline didn't look away.
"Count the children"
"Uuuuhh.. 22?" he asked.
"24 actually. 24 lives. 24 futures. What are ten shops in front of that? What even would a 100 new shops be?"
Her eyes softened as a small boy tugged on a caretaker's sleeve, asking for more bread.
Haven's Hearth burned bright in the night.
And though no one yet understood it, this was the beginning of something far greater than any guild or fortune.
Haven's Hearth would grow on to become one of the biggest supports for Aveline. Not only would it be a place that created talented individuals for all field of life, but they'll be people who would do anything for her. For the woman who saved them.
For them, she was no cursed child. She was their savior. The people of Heaven's Hearth would later help Aveline with something she lacked. Information. These people would go on to work at noble houses, in shops, in merchant groups that roamed the world. They would also donate to the orphanage, allowing Aveline to open even more houses for children.
And in the far future, when stigma would crush Aveline, it was these very children she saved from the cold that would be her saving grace. One decision, one step, one choice, and one building. That was how Aveline, unaware, grew a force that would stand against the world for her.
But for now it was just what it was. A single home full of only 24 children, sharing food. And that was enough. For now.