North Drake
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Book 1: Chapter 57: Birthday Morning
🕑 Added 2025-07-07 12:17:31 +0000 UTCHey guys, I’m back! I’ll try to edit and post one chapter every day until Friday.
Last week was rough, but I’m glad I’m no longer stuck in bed. (:
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Chapter 57:
Birthday Morning
Grace lay awake, eyes wide open, staring into the inky darkness above her bed.
It was still night, the kind of deep, heavy night that clung to the windows and muffled the world outside. She hadn’t slept at all, not even for a moment. Her thoughts circled relentlessly, a slow whirlpool pulling her deeper into silent frustration.
Happy birthday to me, she thought dryly, lips tightening into a humorless smile. Six years old, and already cleaning up corpses.
She thought back to yesterday—the dungeon, Leon, Rin… Callaire. It had been a disaster, a proper mess. She'd never intended for it to escalate so far. Now Lady Callaire was gone, vanished neatly into silence, while Rin had been discreetly smuggled out by her cousin, Ser Calen. He'd healed her wounds and arranged for Callaire’s body to disappear into oblivion.
Grace frowned at the memory. It irritated her deeply that she'd needed Calen’s help. She wasn't even sure how loyal he really was. Family, yes, but family meant less than nothing in a duchy this complicated. Yet, Calen had simply nodded and said, "Family business—I understand." He had asked no questions, offered no judgments.
Sometimes I swear I’m the only sane one around here. The rest of them are truly mad. She rolled her eyes in the dark. What does that say about me?
She shifted slightly, silk sheets rustling softly around her. Leon’s broken stare flashed briefly through her mind, his hollow smile, the way he’d called her "goddess." It should’ve felt satisfying, yet it left her uneasy. The divine spark she'd unintentionally planted within him, she still barely understood how it worked, or what exactly she'd done.
It was unsettling. Grace didn’t like things she couldn’t control, and this—whatever it was—felt dangerously outside her grasp. Leon hadn’t just become obedient; he'd become something else entirely. And what bothered her most was that it wasn't even her own doing. Not consciously.
If the spark can influence him like that, what's it doing to me? She paused, that thought settling coldly in her chest. Would I even notice?
But no, she knew the texture of her own soul. She’d tasted the creeping touch of the Void, knew its icy tendrils well by now. This spark, strange as it was, felt different. Protective, perhaps? Like a thin shell around something fragile. Yet its presence disturbed her deeply, precisely because it was so clearly foreign. Something ancient and divine, what was outside her knowledge, and outside her control.
I need more information, she thought again with a soft sigh. Knowledge, leverage, something. I’m tired of guessing.
She turned onto her side, the room around her quiet and still. The Void didn’t frighten her. She'd reached an understanding—of sorts. Corax’s essence sealed most of it away, at least for now. She knew there would be moments of weakness, flashes of rage or madness she wouldn't entirely control. But that was just life, wasn't it?
If I snap, I'll handle it. She nodded slowly to herself. Control isn’t never slipping. Control is getting back up every time you do.
After all, she wouldn’t become some raving lunatic just because she’d done a few bad things.
Right?
She blinked into the darkness, letting the silence wrap her tightly.
"Happy birthday, Grace," she murmured to the empty room, tasting the words carefully. Then she closed her eyes, pretending for a few brief moments that she was still on Earth in her old room and tomorrow was school. It was sickening calming. Maybe she needed a rest.
"Happy birthday, lil' one," came the soft whisper, gentle yet strangely echoing through the empty darkness of her room.
Grace's eyes snapped open in surprise, her heart skipping a beat. She hadn't sensed him arrive, hadn't felt the usual tug of Corax's presence. Confusion flickered through her, unsettling. Then, slowly, she recognized it; the tiny, familiar feeling of reality fracturing slightly around the small hovering orb, Corax's essence shimmering softly like black silk woven into shadow.
She blinked, pulling herself up slightly against the pillows, trying not to let her surprise show too plainly.
"Corax?" Her voice sounded stiff, defensive even to her own ears. "You're back already from the Citadel, or did you genuinely just return to congratulate me on my birthday?" A slight edge crept into her voice, feeling suddenly caught, exposed. Why did it always feel like he was watching?
Corax’s presence pulsed gently in amusement. "Aye, returned I did. An' not empty-handed, either. Brought ye somethin'—a gift. Been lookin' forward ta seein' yer reaction all day."
Grace slowly sat up straighter, curiosity overtaking her guarded suspicion. She stared skeptically at the gently swirling orb hovering beside her bed. "A gift?" she echoed, unable to mask the skeptical disbelief. "And you're actually eager to give it to me?"
She frowned slightly, studying the shimmering shadows that comprised Corax's form. Was he all right? Had something changed in him? He seemed oddly… different. More expressive. Lighter, somehow.
Corax chuckled quietly, a sound warm with something dangerously close to genuine affection. "Aye, a gift fer ye. I been thinkin'… Humans like presents, don't they?" He paused, almost shyly. "We're connected now, you an' me. The bond we share… it showed me somethin' new. Feelings—strange things, those. Reckon I finally know what it means to want someone else happy."
Grace opened her mouth, words half-formed and ready to challenge his sincerity. Then she paused, speechless, genuinely thrown off balance by Corax’s unexpected sincerity.
"I…"
Before she could gather herself, reality itself twisted sharply beside Corax, a jagged, impossible tear in space appeared, spilling flickers of shadow and dim light into the room. She jerked back instinctively, eyes wide.
From the fissure, something dropped unceremoniously onto the rug beside her bed. A limp form, motionless at first, then slowly stirring with a faint groan. Grace's heart pounded in her chest, adrenaline rushing as she leaned forward for a better look.
"What in the world…?" she whispered sharply; voice barely steady.
Corax’s orb glowed brighter, clearly delighted by her reaction. "Yer gift," he announced proudly, amusement radiating from his essence. "Found 'im down in the dungeons beneath the Citadel. Wolfkin lad. Promised himself ta ye, in exchange fer freedom. Reckon he'll make a fine servant."
The figure on the floor shifted, weakly pushing himself onto trembling hands and knees. Pale hair, matted and filthy, hung over exhausted eyes that stared up at her in confusion, slowly widening into fear.
"Where… am I?" he rasped, clearly disoriented. "Who are you?"
Grace blinked slowly, comprehension dawning as her shock wore off. She shot a glance at Corax, still radiating quiet satisfaction.
She’d asked him to find the beastkin prisoner. But this? This was something else entirely.
"You… you actually brought me a Wolfkin?" Her voice wavered between astonishment and reluctant approval. "Alive?"
"I promised ye a proper gift, didn’t I?" Corax replied cheerfully, clearly pleased with himself. "Thought ye could use another retainer."
Grace stared at him, her initial surprise giving way to mild disbelief and something dangerously close to panic. Another retainer? she thought, alarmed. After everything with Leon and Rin? After the recent headaches from the dungeon incident, how could she possibly explain a Wolfkin suddenly appearing in her bedroom in the middle of the night?
Corax continued calmly, clearly unaware of her internal chaos. "The lad promised himself to ye, willingly," he said softly. "Now, all that’s left is ta seal it. A soul contract should do nicely."
Grace’s eyes narrowed sharply. "A... what?"
She felt her pulse quicken, uncertainty gnawing at the edges of her mind. A soul contract? Is that even safe? Corax had never mentioned this before—another gap in her rapidly growing list of things she didn’t know, another fragment of strange magic she’d have to untangle.
She pressed her fingers lightly to her temple, a faint ache returning, memories of Rin’s terrified sobs and Leon’s broken stare fresh and vivid. This is going to be another mess, isn't it? she thought bitterly. A Wolfkin just dropping from nowhere—I swear, Corax, you’ll drive me completely insane one of these days.
And yet…
She glanced at Corax again. Despite her frustration, something warmed inside her. He’d actually thought of her. A real birthday present. For her. Not a lesson, not a test, just a genuine gift. Strange and absurd as it was, it meant something. It softened her just enough to hold back her biting remarks.
With a quiet sigh, Grace swung her legs off the bed and stood up, silk nightgown rustling softly around her. She looked down at the frightened Wolfkin boy, huddled trembling on the floor.
He stared up at her, eyes wide and confused, ears flattened with uncertainty. But he didn't dare move or object. He knew better, at least for now.
Corax floated forward slightly, dark essence pulsing gently. "Well then, let’s get on with it," he said, almost cheerfully. "Ye both need ta agree fer the soul contract. It’s old magic, powerful stuff."
Before Grace could respond or question, Corax’s tendrils emerged swiftly from his shadowy form. The air shifted subtly, reality rippling at their edges.
Rhel stiffened, a frightened gasp caught in his throat as one tendril shot forward, plunging directly into his forehead. His body jerked slightly, eyes glazing momentarily, then cleared into frightened compliance.
"Wait—Corax!" Grace started, alarm flaring briefly, but another tendril gently drifted toward her forehead, brushing softly, soothingly, against her skin.
Corax’s voice deepened, resonating strangely through the room. "As a witness of the old ways, as a spirit from the Veil, I bind these two souls: Grace of Ashford and Rhel of the Wolfkin. A master-servant bond, sealed by choice and circumstance."
Grace drew a sharp breath as something new flickered at the edge of her consciousness—a thin, delicate bond like a silken thread winding through the fabric of her soul. She blinked, dizzy for a moment, then slowly sank back onto her bed, absorbing this new sensation in silence.
Rhel remained frozen, staring at her in quiet terror, confusion clouding his eyes. The tendril withdrew gently, leaving him visibly shaken but physically unharmed.
Grace’s mind drifted briefly back to memories of her former life on Earth, mundane mornings and quiet birthdays filled with boredom rather than magic and murder. A short, bitter laugh slipped out—sharp, humorless, startling both Corax and Rhel.
"What a fucking fantasy conspiracy magic shit movie I’ve ended up in," she murmured softly, shaking her head with an incredulous smile.
Corax tilted slightly, confusion evident. Rhel flinched, clearly unsure whether he should speak or even move. Grace caught herself quickly, waving her hand dismissively.
"It’s fine," she sighed, forcing a calm she didn’t entirely feel. "I’m fine. Just… thinking out loud."
She straightened, regaining her composure as she looked at Rhel, then Corax, then back to Rhel. Another headache to manage, another secret to hide, another soul bound to hers.
"So," she finally said, exhaling slowly and meeting Rhel’s wary eyes. "How exactly are we supposed to handle our new little pet?"
Outside her window, the sky slowly turned lighter, the pale, hesitant glow of dawn creeping into her chamber. Grace glanced toward the faint brightness with a resigned sigh. Probably around five o’clock, if the timing was like every year before. Elyne would arrive within the hour, cheerful and annoyingly punctual, to begin Grace's meticulously arranged birthday schedule.
Just perfect, Grace thought sourly. She could already picture Elyne’s polite confusion when she found a Wolfkin casually lounging by her bed. How in all the hells am I going to explain this?
She pressed two fingers firmly to her temples, trying to hold back the growing headache. She hadn't even begun to process the fact that Corax had just casually bound her soul to a Wolfkin she knew nothing about.
"Corax," she said quietly, her voice strained yet steady, "can you… take him back? Just for a day or two, somewhere discreet? A shack in the woods, maybe, with some food or something? He won't know the difference."
Rhel blinked at her silently, confusion still etched into his weary face. She ignored him, focusing instead on the gently pulsating orb hovering before her.
To her genuine surprise, Corax chuckled softly—actually chuckled—before answering, "Nah, lil' one. Afraid I can’t."
Grace felt her stomach twist. She twirled a golden lock subconsciously between her fingers, forcing herself to stay calm. "And what exactly," she asked very slowly, "is so funny about that?"
Corax’s presence shimmered with mild amusement. "That little stunt drained me somethin' fierce. Tearin' holes in reality ain't easy, ye know. The soul contract took even more. Sorry, but I'm gonna need to rest for a bit."
Grace stared at the orb, mouth slightly open, disbelief painted plainly across her features. This spirit really does want me to lose my mind.
"Right," she finally exhaled. "It doesn't matter anymore, does it?" She closed her eyes for a moment. So, which headache is easier? Elyne or someone else?
Elyne’s endless questions and fussing would certainly be worse. She’d take the other option.
She sighed softly, then looked back up at Corax. "Thanks for the gift," she murmured quietly, genuinely grateful despite everything. "I’ll… see you later, friend."
Friend. The word lingered strangely on her tongue, but it felt true. Corax was perhaps the closest thing she'd had to a friend in this absurd world. The thought wasn’t comforting exactly, but it was something.
Corax gave a gentle pulse of acknowledgment and then vanished slowly into the ether, reality rippling gently as he disappeared.
Grace stood quietly for a moment, then walked slowly toward her chamber door. Carefully, she opened it just a crack, peeked into the hall, and whispered softly to the guard waiting outside.
The guard nodded quickly and hurried away. Grace closed the door and waited, pacing slightly until a sharp knock signaled Ser Calen’s arrival.
She cringed inwardly, forcing a composed expression onto her face as she opened the door fully. "Ser Calen," she began evenly, consciously mimicking his earlier tone. He had clearly liked it, after all. "I called you here for another… family matter. I trust I can rely on your assistance once again?"
Calen straightened visibly, pride flashing briefly in his eyes. "Of course, my lady. Family always comes first."
Grace smiled faintly, a carefully measured warmth in her voice. "Good. As your cousin, I’m truly glad to have you in my care."
Perhaps loyalty is simpler than I thought, she mused briefly, watching the pleased expression deepen on Calen’s face. Offer belonging and receive obedience. I’ll remember that.
"Take him," Grace said quietly, gesturing toward Rhel, who still knelt nervously on the floor. "Bring him discreetly to the other one—to Rin. Don’t ask questions, just do it."
Calen paused for only a heartbeat, then nodded decisively. "Understood, my lady." He moved swiftly, gently pulling Rhel to his feet. The Wolfkin offered no resistance, eyes wide with uncertainty, silently glancing at Grace as Calen guided him out.
As soon as the door shut behind them, Grace exhaled deeply, a wave of tension slowly loosening. I hope he’s the lesser evil, she thought tiredly, pressing her forehead against the cool window glass. Elyne finding out would certainly be a far greater headache.
Outside, the sunrise painted the horizon in soft shades of pink and orange. It was beautiful, yet a bitter taste lingered on her tongue. Another day of pretending, of playing the sweet, happy doll everyone expected. Another round of careful smiles, empty gratitude, friendly words masking silent threats and subtle manipulations.
Absently, Grace reached out, opening the delicate black box resting on the table nearby. Inside, the wyvern egg lay still and quiet, waiting patiently for her mana. She placed her hand gently on the warm shell, slowly pouring her magic into it. Corax had explained the process carefully after Saren Holt had given her the egg. The bond would form this way, linking the wyvern’s loyalty permanently to her.
At least this moment was peaceful, quiet. She closed her eyes briefly, savoring the simple task.
Happy birthday, Grace.
She allowed herself a small, bitter smile.
Let’s hope this one doesn't end in blood.
Comments
Christie
Happy you ve gotten better
Ryan N
they grow up so fast 🥹
