Lilies Among Shadows

“!”

A double knock at the door shattered the little sleep I had managed the night before. My mind had been restless all night, plagued with thoughts of Alice and Karen and their well-being. At first, I ignored it, assuming it was merely a summons for breakfast, hoping the knocks would eventually fade.

“…”

But the knocks continued, faster this time, more insistent.

— Tch, fine.

“Come in!”

The door creaked open. Clara and Tessa stepped inside, but their expressions were not what I had expected. Both looked pale, eyes heavy with distress.

Was missing breakfast really such a serious offence?

— Or so I thought.

“Master,” Clara’s voice was firm, though her hands trembled slightly at her sides. “Before I speak, I must warn you, what I am about to tell you may not bring you any comfort.”

I tried to lighten the air. “What’s wrong, Clara? Did I miss breakfast?”

But her expression did not change. It remained stern, almost grim

The humour in me dissolved. “I'm sorry, please go ahead.”

Clara hesitated, her eyes flickering to the ground before finding mine again. “This morning, a messenger arrived at House Vandrelis. He carried news from the knights of Thornwick City. They discovered a broken-down carriage on the roadside, two weeks abandoned. Inside… they found the mutilated remains of two young women with red hair.”

My chest tightened.

Clara’s voice lowered, as though speaking pained her. “The carriage bore the sigil of Vandrelis. A dead coachman was nearby, and the state of the bodies suggested bandits. Their clothes torn, the scene… fouled with violence.”

“No…”

She faltered, her head lowering. “This morning, they confirmed it. The victims were indeed Lady Alice and Lady Karen.”

Her words hit me like a hammer to the skull.

Alice… Karen… dead?

No. That could not be. A sigil wasn’t enough to prove anything. 

What if the bodies were of someone else? 

What if all this was simply just a mistake?

I forced my voice through the disbelief. “But… confirmation from a sigil alone isn’t a valid proof, is it?”

“Marquis Beaumont was at the scene to confirm it as well,” Clara said, her voice tinged with deep resignation.

"No way... that can't be..."

“...And Father? What did he say?”

“Well, this morning, the Duke and Lady Seraphine quarrelled bitterly. He blamed her for hosting the gathering that drew them out. She, however…” Clara’s lips pressed into a thin line. “She dismissed their deaths as merely a consequence of the Duke’s weak political connections, implying that had he been stronger, his daughters would not have suffered such a tragic fate.”

The heat rose in my chest.

"That woman… even now, all she thinks of is politics?"

"Her own daughters were reduced to pawns, discarded without so much as a shred of grief. And yet… she feels nothing?"

Rage, unlike anything I had ever experienced in both my lives, surged through me. I wanted to shatter the nearest vase, tear down walls with my bare hands, to let the fury consume everything around me.

“Where is Father now?”

“Upon hearing the news, he was seen preparing to depart for Thornwick City, to confirm the truth with his own eyes.”

"!"

A sudden gust slammed open the balcony windows, sending the curtains thrashing violently in the wind, as if the house itself were trembling. It seemed Father had already mounted the family's Wyvern, departing swiftly from Vandrelis Mansion.

My anger ebbed into trembling. My body shook, my mind filled with unbearable images of what Alice and Karen must have endured. 

Their cries.

Their suffering. 

Their fear.

I wanted to kill... those b*stards!

"Kill!"

"Kill!"

"Kill!"

"Kill!"

"Kill!"

"Kill!"

"Kill!"

"Kill!"

"Kill!"

"Kill!"

"Kill!"

"Kill!"

"Kill!"

"Kill!"

"Kill!"

"Kill!"

"Kill!"

"Kill!"

"Kill!"

"Kill!"

"Kill!"

"Kill!"

"Kill!"

"Kill!"

"Kill!"

"Kill!"

"Kill!"

"Kill!"

"Kill!"

"Kill!"

"Kill!"

"Kill!"

"Kill!"

"Kill!"

"Kill!"

"Kill!"

"Kill!"

"Kill!"

"Kill!"

"Kill!"

"Kill!"

"Kill!"

"Kill!"

"Kill!"

"Kill!"

"Kill!"

"Kill!"

"Kill!"

"Kill!"

"Kill!"

"Kill!"

"Kill!"

"Kill!"

"Kill!"

"Kill!"

"Kill!"

"Kill!"

"Kill!"

"Kill!"

"Kill!"

"Kill!"

"Kill!"

"Kill!"

"Kill!"

The word consumed me, echoing louder and louder until it drowned all other thoughts. It was as if the soul of the old Elias still lingered within me, burning with rage at the pitiful fate of his sisters.

"!"

A sharp sting bloomed on my cheek.

“Master!” Clara’s eyes brimmed with tears, her palm still raised from striking me. “Please, come back to your senses! I had called for you many times, but you didn’t respond once. Your sisters… don’t you think they would hate to see you in such a state? And if you wish to punish me for my insolence, I will accept it, but not like this. Not while you lose yourself.”

Her words cut through the haze of bloodlust. She was right. Revenge, what would it bring? It would only rot me from within.

But still, I could not escape the crushing feeling of helplessness. Even if I wanted to, what power did I have to avenge them? 

I was weak. 

Pathetic. 

In this world, I was nothing.

And nothing was worse than this feeling; I was powerless to protect the only family that had shown me kindness.

What was I to do...?

"..."

Many weeks had passed by, and a funeral was held in a private Vandrelis family graveyard, with two tombstones carved with the names, Alice Vandrelis and Karen Vandrelis, year 100 - 115, only 15 years old, yet they faced such a tragedy. Everyone was dressed in black, except for that wench Seraphine, who was still dressed in her usual crimson dress with no sign of remorse, her face looking to leave anytime soon. Timothy was in tears, a complete contrast to his mother. Our eldest sister stood in complete silence, gently placing a small bundle of lilies upon their tombstones. Although her expression did not show much, she felt aggrieved by the death of her stepsisters. While father, on his suit, sat down in the muddy ground, weeping and groaning in pain, the wench Seraphine simply left the site, unable to bear a grown man's cry, for her, she was probably plotting her next move.

Slowly, one by one, we departed the sorrowful site. Father, was the last to leave. A few days later, he organised a massive hunt, placing bounties on the bandits responsible for the deaths of his beloved daughters. Due to this, he was barely home, and the family ceased sharing meals in the dining hall altogether, each retreating to their own rooms.

I, too, was consumed by grief. The memory of Alice and Karen’s sad faces before they left my door that first day replayed endlessly in my mind, like a broken recorder.

Again and again.

What if I had asked them why they looked so distraught?

Could I have prevented this fate?

A torrent of questions swirled in my mind.

My mental state deteriorated rapidly. I could barely eat, barely sip water. I ignored the maids’ care, telling them not to enter whenever they knocked. 

I wanted nothing but to be alone.

"..."

Whether it was the lingering presence of Elias’ own feelings or my own despair, I could not think clearly.

Eventually, one day, weak and nearly starving after a week without proper sustenance, I staggered toward my desk. A small glass of water sat there, barely filled. As I reached for it, my legs gave out. I collapsed to the ground, darkness closing in as consciousness slipped away, and all light simply vanished.