Aurèlle Liora Valencrest's day had begun like most others—quiet, tense, and filled with the anticipation of disaster. She stepped lightly across the polished kitchen floor, balancing a tray of freshly baked bread, careful not to wake the household, or worse, draw the sharp gaze of her stepmother.
And then it happened.
A sudden brush against her ankle sent her stumbling forward. Her arms flailed, the tray tipped, and porcelain shattered across the floor. Aurèlle froze, heart hammering in her chest, as a trail of shattered cups and bowls glimmered on the floor.
'Oh no, Nyx,' she thought, glaring at the small black cat rubbing lazily against her leg. Its golden eyes glimmered mischievously, as if entirely pleased with the chaos it had caused.
Nyx — a creature as sleek and dark as midnight, with a personality somewhere between a teasing trickster and an unwilling confidant — sat back on its haunches, tail flicking.
"Of course," Aurèlle muttered under her breath. "You wait until the most inconvenient moment to make your grand entrance."
As if summoned by the sound of breaking china, her stepmother Selene Hawthorne entered the kitchen. Her figure was tall and elegant, framed in a dark silk gown that whispered of wealth and power. Her hair gleamed like polished ebony, her eyes sharp and unyielding. A scowl tugged at her lips, though the edges of her face betrayed a kind of practiced beauty that drew attention wherever she went. But Aurèlle knew better. Beneath that beauty hid a cruelty sharpened over years of envy and ambition.
"You incompetent child," Selene spat, her voice cold and cutting. "Do you not know how to do anything correctly?"
Aurèlle froze. Her heartbeat raced as fear and a quiet, simmering frustration filled her chest. She muttered softly under her breath, careful not to meet her "mother's" eyes. "It wasn't entirely my fault…" Her voice trailed away.
Selene's gaze hardened, her frown deepening.
Aurèlle's lips pressed together. She had learned early on that arguing only made Selene angrier.
"Just like your mother," Selene continued, a venomous smile curling at the edges of her words. "Always failing, always weak. I suppose I should have expected nothing else from the daughter of someone so… foolish."
Aurèlle bit down her anger at those words and swallowed hard. She didn't dare argue, didn't dare say a word — lest she be sent to the dark room, a place she dreaded more than any punishment. Yet deep inside, a small ember of defiance flickered, though she kept it hidden, buried beneath fear and trembling.
Behind her, objects that weren't pinned down began to lift, hovering in the air. Aurèlle kept her eyes fixed on the floor, too afraid to meet Selene's gaze, and didn't notice the faint shimmer of magic guiding the objects around her.
Nyx, meanwhile, sat silently behind Selene, unfazed, its tail flicking as if amused by the quiet display of power. It had caused the accident, yes — but its golden eyes almost seemed to be testing her, seeing if she could survive this without breaking.
Selene, however, froze for a brief moment, her eyes narrowing — not at the floating dishes, but at Aurèlle herself. She had expected her to faint as usual, to collapse into the unconsciousness that always followed such outbursts of magic. Today, the girl remained upright, trembling but fully aware. A flicker of surprise crossed Selene's face before it was replaced by her usual composed mask. She considered, briefly, the complications this posed.
The room remained tense, objects scattered from the spilled tray — cups, spoons, shards of porcelain. Selene's voice cut through the silence.
"Clean this up. Now. And try not to ruin anything else before I return."
Aurèlle nodded quickly, muttering under her breath as she bent to gather the fragments. She could feel her cheeks burning — part shame, part fury, part that small ember of rebellion that had dared to flicker in her stepmother's presence.
As Selene turned to leave, her sharp eyes caught a faint shimmer in the kitchen air. She glanced back just in time to see the objects quietly float down, returning to their original places as if nothing had happened. A fleeting look of discomfort crossed her face before it was replaced with her usual carefully controlled expression, and she swept down the hall, leaving Aurèlle to her silent, cautious work.
Minutes passed as she cleaned, and a soft voice joined her from the doorway.
"Elle? Do you need help?"
Her little sister, Dahlia Rose Valencrest, peered around the edge of the kitchen, bright eyes wide with concern. Aurèlle's lips lifted in a brief, grateful smile. Dahlia was kind, and her presence had a way of making the world feel a little less cold.
"Just… just be careful," Aurèlle whispered back.
Together, they began picking up the shards, Dahlia's small hands surprisingly deft.
As Aurèlle worked, her thoughts drifted to her father — rare memories flickering like candlelight. How he had smiled at her. Called her his little star. Brushed a gentle hand through her hair when he had been home. Even Selene would soften then, offering polite words and tempered reprimands.
She wished he were here now — to dull the sting of Selene's sharp tongue.
Nyx leapt onto the counter again, brushing lightly against Aurèlle's hand. The cat's purr was faint, almost conspiratorial, and Aurèlle found a small comfort in it — as if the creature understood she was not entirely alone.
Together, she and Dahlia finished gathering the broken pieces. The kitchen returned to order.
But Aurèlle knew this fragile calm would not last.