Twelve Years Later…
"Soleil!"
I hadn't even finished hanging the laundry when Valore's shriek echoed from inside the house. I flinched, accidentally pressing a damp shirt I was wringing out against my clothes. Her voice was loud enough to be its own sound system. I swear.
I finished wringing the shirt, hung it, and then gathered the rest of the freshly washed laundry to take inside. I set the basket by the door, intending to go find Valore, but her brother, Val, blocked my path. He was shirtless, casually tossing his dirty clothes right into my basket of clean ones.
"Wash them. I need them later when the carriage arrives to pick us up," Val said, already turning away.
"But I just finished washing these—"
"Then wash them again," he cut me off dismissively before heading into the kitchen.
There was no point arguing with him once the door swung shut behind him. I just sighed and picked up the shirt he'd soiled. Climbing the stairs to Valore's room, I could already hear her impatient voice before I even opened the door.
"Soleil, what on earth are you doing?" she snapped as I entered. She was sitting on her bed, surrounded by her scattered makeup she'd bought in Little Burg the other day. Her face was caked in layers, a clownish mask of thick foundation and garish red blush. "I've been calling you forever! You're burning me, Soleil!"
I stepped inside, but before I could get close, she flicked a hand toward me. A sudden gust of wind knocked me off balance, sending me stumbling back.
"Don't just stand there gawking. Tidy this up. Your judgmental eyes might ruin my makeup," she said with a sneer.
Even if I didn't look, your face is already a disaster. I thought bitterly.
I got up, brushed myself off, and began gathering her scattered belongings from the bed, placing them in her drawer. It was a minor miracle her room wasn't a complete pigsty today. Valore cared about one thing only in her life: herself. Her entire world revolved around her own beauty and how others perceived her day.
I'd cleaned her room thoroughly over the past few days, and it showed. Not that I could tell her that—if I so much as hinted her room had been a biohazard when we were kids: ants, mosquitoes, and rats in the drawers or under the bed, she'd just get furious. When we were younger, after I suggested she clean it for her own health, she used her wind affinity to dangle me from the ceiling for ten minutes. Only Ba's timely arrival saved me.
"Where are you going?" I asked softly, finishing up and moving to the window. I slowly pushed it open, welcoming the sun's warmth—a simple reminder of life's beauty. But the window slammed shut with a violent gust, nearly crushing my fingers, as Valore used her power again.
"It's too hot! My makeup will melt!" she complained irritably. "Anyway, to answer your question, I'm going to Little Burg for the general's party. Val and I are being picked up by carriage, so make sure you dress decently later. We don't want people thinking we starve you."
I sighed, forcing a smile. "You're so harsh, Valore. Couldn't you try a new approach? Maybe start your day with a better attitude?"
She glared at me, her hand twitching. So much for friendly banter. "How about I give your face a new approach?"
I laughed nervously. "That's not what I—woah!" I threw my hands up as her hairbrush shot past my head, propelled by another gust.
"Out!" she ordered, pointing to the open door. There was no reasoning with her when she was like this. Both she and Val had made their disdain for me abundantly clear. All I wanted was some peace in this house we shared with Ba. I didn't even mind their constant orders. "Just go cook something. Father might be home soon."
I left, and the door slammed behind me with a force that shook the frame. Back downstairs, I retrieved Val's shirt from the laundry basket. I wanted to start cooking so Ba wouldn't have to wait for a meal when he returned, but Val was still in the kitchen, and the banging sounds from within suggested opening that door might mean facing a flying knife.
Better to just wash his shirt.
It was Val's favorite—the last gift from his mother before she died. Like her children, she'd been cold to me, often forcing me to scrub floors until they shined, threatening to press my face into them if she found a speck of dirt.
She died during an attack by the Ashtons on Sunnyvale, when they came to seize crops and livestock. The Wimpers—wind-affinity users like Val and Valore—were too weak against fire. Their mother was one of the casualties, trapped and burned in the very house we lived in now.
Truthfully, it was sad to think of their loss. When she was alive, Val and Valore weren't quite this cruel to me. They tolerated me. Maybe because their hearts were fuller then, complete with both parents.
My own mother… I hadn't seen her since the tragedy when I was ten, when Ba pulled me from the chaos as the Scar split the world. I hadn't set foot in the Astrea Kingdom since. No one could cross the Scar; it was a curse upon all of Astrea.
Sometimes I wondered if the Sun Goddess my mother spoke of was even real, or just a story for a child. It was hard to believe a deity would abandon her people without reason. Why didn't the gods simply fix everything? Restore peace and unity?
Growing up had taught me complicated truths.
About people. There was no hope for reconciliation when everyone only thought of their own survival, protecting themselves with no care for who got hurt.
Now I understood why my mother had trusted so few. People were greedy for power.
Now they had it. They gained their affinities, but only brought more strife.
Just like in my mother's stories.
Twelve years. Twelve years since I'd seen the Astrea Kingdom, barred by the Scar with no way back. I blamed myself. If I hadn't tried to reassemble the Sunstone, maybe the monstrous Goors wouldn't exist within the Scar. Maybe I wouldn't have been separated from my mother. Maybe if I hadn't run from her side that day…
Rip.
I looked down. A small tear stared back at me from the fabric in my hands. As I lifted it to inspect the damage, I found Val standing in the doorway, his gaze fixed on the shirt. His expression had darkened.
I quickly submerged the shirt in the water again. "Val, I—"
My words were cut off as he thrust both hands forward. A wall of wind slammed into me, hurling me backward. My back hit the wall by the door with a sickening thud, then I was shoved along it, around the corner to the back of the house.
I gasped, clawing at my throat as the pressure stole my breath. "V—Val…"
I couldn't speak. He was using his power to constrict my chest.
The door beside me flew open. Ba stood there, eyes wide with shock, looking from me to Val. I saw him grab Val's wrists, forcing his hands down.
The pressure vanished. I collapsed to the floor, wheezing, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs.
"What is wrong with you? Attacking your own sister?" Ba demanded.
Val refused to look at him, his hateful glare pinned on me. "She's not my sister. And I don't have a sibling who ruins my most important belongings!"
I looked away, shame burning hotter than any pain. He was right. I'd damaged the last gift from his mother. Anyone would be furious.
"She is your sister because I see her as my daughter," Ba said, his voice low but firm. I heard footsteps. Valore now stood in the doorway, her gaze flicking from Ba to me, her expression unreadable. "And you will never lay a hand on her again, because—"
"Because why?" Val interrupted. "Because the only thing she brings to this family is bad luck? Look at her! If she wasn't a curse, she'd have an affinity like me and Valore."
I bit my lip hard. Tears found their way down my cheeks.
He was right. Maybe I was useless. Whenever trouble came, I could only hide, powerless. I had no affinity. No command over wind or fire.
Ba called my name softly. He walked over and helped me up, his eyes never leaving his biological children. "I did not raise you to be like this, Val."
"And you didn't raise that jinx to destroy other people's property!" Val shot back. He glared at me once more before snatching the soaking shirt from the tub. He wrung it out with furious, violent twists. "Don't you dare speak to me," he hissed, his voice trembling with rage. "You have nothing to prove, Soleil. You have nothing to prove…"
He stormed off, the ruined shirt in his grip. He shoved past Valore in the doorway. She watched him go, then turned her cool, assessing gaze back to Ba and me. Of course, she'd side with her brother. That's how it always was. Without a word, she followed Val out.
Ba and I were left alone in the wash area, near my small room.
"Are you alright?" he asked, still supporting me. He led me to a stool and helped me sit. "You must forgive your siblings. Their tempers…"
I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. "It's fine, Ba. It was my fault. I should have been more careful."
"Shhh," he whispered. "All things wear out. That shirt was old, worn from his constant use." He offered a gentle smile. "Don't worry. I'll talk to him. This will pass."
I managed a weak smile back and slowly stood. "Alright. You rest in the living room. I'll cook something for Val and Valore before they leave for Little Burg—"
"No, it's fine," he said, his smile widening. "I already ate on my way back. I found the food you tucked into my bag yesterday."
I frowned. "Are you sure? That wasn't much. You might get hungry again."
He laughed. "Don't worry about me," Ba insisted. "I'm fine. You've done more than enough since sunrise." He stood. "You rest now. I have something for you."
I frowned, curious, but obeyed.
"Okay. But I'll cook for Val and Valore before their party in Little Burg."
"The general's celebration is tonight?"
I nodded. "That's what Valore said."
"Would you like to go—"
"No, Ba," I interrupted gently. "That party is for Val and Valore. If they saw me there, it might ruin the general's night just by their disgust alone. Besides, I'd have nothing to do but stand by some expensive wall. I'd probably scuff it."
Ba chuckled, and a small, real smile finally touched my lips. For a moment, the tension eased. But the echo of Val's words lingered in the quiet house.
You have nothing to prove.
The problem was, he was right. I had nothing at all.