Fall of Autumn, Week 5, Day 7

A pen snapped between a teenager's fingers, debris flying into her pin-straight hair and ink soiling her palm. Evelyn could feel dozens of bindings snap free from her soul. Curious.

"Focus, Lady Evelyn. Magic requires all your attention, not just what you deem to give it."

The teenager looked up, her brilliant blue eyes narrowed and her lips pursed in dissatisfaction.

"Madame Syling, I do not believe—"

But Evelyn couldn't finish whatever thought she had. Because something was heading her way. A pain snaked itself around her mana veins, and she felt the usual spike of thorns dull. Her magic, like roses blooming in the spring, died inside of her.

Evelyn clutched her head, where the pain was migrating to with furious intent. It filled her, but Evelyn did not scream. She did not cry. She did not allow the indignity of pain to consume her.

Instead, she forcibly released her grip on her head, and stood—her movements jerky, but determined.

"I will be ending today here," she said, her voice cold in all the ways a noble daughter was meant to be.

Despite Madame Syling's protest, Evelyn left the spacious room she used for practical magic lessons. Climbing up the staircase back to the main level of the estate was laborious, and Evelyn felt her heart and head constrict with the effort.

But she had to make it back to her room. She needed to find out what was happening. She needed to look inward, to find out what was wrong.

"You look terrible."

Evelyn didn't even bother to look at the little gremlin she was obligated to call brother. She just strode by, with as straight of a back as she could muster. It wasn't anything her mother would call dignified, but Evelyn didn't have the benefit of controlling her muscles at the moment.

"Good. Rest up, Eve, you'll need it for what's coming."

At those words, Evelyn's eyes snapped to where Theodore was standing, only, Theodore wasn't there at all. It was just empty space.

[Mana Sense]

Thorns wrapped around Evelyn's eyes, weak and pitiful, but still there. So not entirely sealed then.

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But what she saw was even more confusing. Where the words had come from was empty space, yes, but it had flecks of emerald green mana.

Gritting her teeth, Evelyn went back to climbing the stairs. It was as she reached the top and began heading down the long corridor that another voice appeared. One that should still be in Adeline, training with sweat and swords.

"Tsk, sis, you should get that checked out. You look like you need to rest."

Again, she looked at the voice. And again, all she saw was the remnants of green mana. Nothing more, nothing less.

Evelyn could have said something, she could have told a maid, or a knight. She could have gone to her mother and begged for help.

But Evelyn knew she was capable enough on her own. Whatever curse or maladiction was affecting her, she could handle with no one the wiser. Because were anyone to look within her, to look at the myriad of bindings marking her soul, she would be locked away. A princess in a tower, the key buried and burned.

Her own mother wanted her to forsake her Class, to cast away the very thing that made her strong. That made her a contender.

No.

She would never.

"Of course not, you foolish girl. But never mind that. Go to your room. Rest."

This time, Evelyn didn't bother looking at where the voice of her mother came from. Instead, she opened the door to her room.

Her room with its oranges and pinks and purple hues. Her room with golden accents and magelights glittering. Her room with tomes of magic, old and forbidden. Her room with too many shadows.

Evelyn's eyes locked on one shadow in particular. It hovered by her bed, shaped like a young girl. There was no definition to the shape, just a feeling of familiar anger. A feeling of threat. And within the shadow were two piercing emerald eyes.

"You are no more, sister. Rest. And do not come for me again."

Evelyn froze.

"What?"

"You are no more, sister. Rest. And do not come for me again."

At the repeated words, Evelyn felt her feet move against her will bringing her closer to the shadow construct.

"Stop—no—what is—"

"You are no more, sister. Rest. And do not come for me again."

The words echoed in her head, right up to the moment that she fell into her bed.

Until the moment she closed her eyes.

Until she was locked in a state of perpetual rest.

"How long has it been?" Mallorica hissed, looking out at the gathered maids.

"Less than half a day, Duchess," said a maid, braver than the rest. "She ended her lesson early and went straight to her room. Then we found her like this."

Mallorica looked back to her eldest daughter with fire in her eyes.

Evelyn was sleeping. No, not quite. The Divinity locking her away screamed that she was resting. That they should allow her to rest.

It was not more than Mallorica could handle, her own Divinity well on its way to the Second Threshold, but she was not inclined to free Evelyn from a demise of her own construction.

"She has angered someone more defined than her," Mallorica declared. "She will have to break out of it herself. That is her punishment for being a fool."

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