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Book 1: Chapter 30: The Real Me, I Guess
🕑 Added 2025-06-18 14:37:54 +0000 UTCChapter 30:
The Real Me, I Guess
Clara sat on the edge of her bed, holding a book she hadn’t read in the last twenty minutes.
Her room was warm. The window let in the morning light, but it didn’t help much. Her thoughts were still stuck in that little hall at the estate. Grace’s hand on hers. The way she spoke, calm, steady. Like nothing could ever touch her.
Clara had tried to act normal when she got home. Her steward met her at the carriage. The old knight from Bellgrave gave her a nod and walked the perimeter like he always did. She smiled, said thank you, walked inside, and climbed the stairs.
Then she sat down. She hadn’t moved since.
The book in her hands was one of the ones Grace lent her. Something about noble sigils and how to recognize false lineage claims. Clara didn’t care about that right now.
She was scared.
Not just about the Beastkin. Not just about the war. Bellgrave was near the front now, not close enough to be overrun, but close enough to worry.
And Grace… Grace had a Mana Core.
Void, of all things.
Clara had no idea what that really meant, but Elyne’s reaction said enough. And the way Grace said it, soft, like it hurt to admit, it stuck with her.
Clara didn’t know what to do with that. She wanted to be there for her. She also didn’t want to be in the way.
A knock came at the door.
Clara looked up. “Yes?”
Her steward opened it. “Lady Elyne Marren is here. She asks for a moment of your time.”
Clara stood quickly and set the book aside.
“Let her in, please.”
She smoothed her sleeves. Her hands were shaking a little.
Elyne stepped into the room with her usual calm. Her black court coat was buttoned high, the red trim neat as always. She gave Clara a small smile — not forced, but tired.
“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” she said.
Clara shook her head. “No, not at all.”
Elyne looked around for a moment, then closed the door behind her. She didn’t sit, just rested one hand lightly on the back of the desk chair.
“I wanted to see how you were feeling. After this morning.”
Clara nodded, but her voice caught. “I’m all right. Just… thinking.”
“I know it was a lot,” Elyne said gently. “And it’s all right to be overwhelmed. You handled yourself well.”
Clara tried to smile but didn’t quite manage it.
Elyne gave her a moment, then added, “Any word from your parents?”
Clara’s shoulders slumped just a little. “No. Not yet. Bellgrave’s close to the front, and the posts have been slow. I’m sure they’re fine, I just… I’d like to hear it.”
“I’ll see to it,” Elyne said. “The duchy has faster couriers than the public messengers. I’ll have one sent directly. You’ll have word soon.”
Clara blinked. “Thank you…”
“Of course.”
Elyne paused, then stepped closer. “And I want you to know something else. About this morning.”
Clara looked up.
“You’re not falling behind,” Elyne said. “Not because Grace has a Mana Core. Not because Elen developed one, either. You’re not less than either of them.”
Clara opened her mouth to argue, or deny, but Elyne smiled before she could.
“I’ve watched you grow, Clara. You’re kind, and you’re thoughtful. That isn’t something I can teach Grace. Or anyone.”
Clara looked down, face red. “…I just don’t want to be left behind.”
“You won’t be,” Elyne said. “Not while I’m here.”
She straightened again, tone lightening.
“I canceled the rest of Grace’s schedule for the day. I thought a walk in Velwick might help. Some fresh air, something sweet. There’s a bakery in the market square, the one with the sugar-braided rolls.”
Clara blinked, surprised. “Really?”
“Really. You, me, Grace, and Elen. No lessons. Just a day out.”
Clara hesitated, then nodded. “I’d like that.”
“Good. Dress warmly. We’ll leave within the hour.”
Elyne gave her a nod and stepped back out, leaving Clara standing alone.
For the first time that morning, her hands had stopped shaking.
--::--
Again. Elyne did it again. Another little outing. Another distraction wrapped in polite smiles and pastries.
Let’s go to Velwick, Grace. Let’s eat sweet rolls and pretend we’re normal. What did she think I was, five?
…Okay, fine. Technically she wasn’t wrong. But that wasn’t the point.
Grace sighed as one of the knights helped her into her coat. The lining was warm, the sleeves stiff from fresh laundering. The knight moved carefully, saying nothing.
Good. At least someone knew how to be quiet when she was clearly unimpressed.
She turned slightly toward him. “You never told me what my mother actually said.”
The knight looked down. He was tall, even for a knight, armored, clean, efficient. His helm hung on the chair beside them.
He paused before answering.
“She gave orders, my lady. Nothing unusual.”
Grace raised an eyebrow.
The knight adjusted the collar of her coat. “Protect you. Keep formation. Report anything strange. That sort of thing.”
“That’s not what I mean,” Grace said.
She looked up at him.
The knight hesitated, then gave a small, respectful nod.
Then he continued, voice lower now. “I’m a cousin of yours. On the Ashford side, not a close line. I don’t expect you to know me. Your mother asked for knights she trusted. I volunteered.”
Grace blinked once.
He kept his tone even. “I swore to protect you. Not just by duty. By blood. For what you represent.”
She didn’t reply.
“I probably shouldn’t say this,” he added, “not to a little girl.”
Grace’s eyes narrowed.
“But after yesterday… after the hall?” He met her gaze directly. “You’re a proper Ashford. I saw it. I won’t question your orders. Not ever.”
Grace didn’t know what to say to that. She wasn’t angry, or smug.
Just… quiet.
He means it, she thought. Seriously. No hesitation. Just ready to follow because I said something sharp in a fancy dress.
That’s not normal. It’s probably stupid. But it works.
She looked up at him. Idiot… well, a useful idiot at least.
Useful, and maybe a little unnerving. But she let it pass. For now.
She turned her eyes back to the mirror. Her coat fit. Her boots were done. Her hair was fixed. Everything was in place.
Everything except—
Corax.
She hadn’t felt him since the dungeon.
No voice. No weight. No flicker at the edge of her vision.
Just gone.
Coward, she thought. But the word felt weaker today.
The knight stepped back, respectful.
“We’re ready, my lady,” he said. “The carriage is waiting.”
Grace nodded.
“Then let’s go.”
--::--
Elen sat quietly inside the carriage.
The cushions were soft. The wood was polished. Everything smelled faintly of winter oil and lavender soap, not hers. Probably Grace’s or the estate’s.
She pulled her cloak tighter around herself. Still the same one she wore this morning. It wasn’t dirty, just… plain. Functional. Definitely not noble.
Her boots were clean, but the soles were worn. She didn’t care, but she noticed. Especially now.
She was the first one in. Elyne had picked her up just as she was finishing practice, training alone outside their little house. Her arms still ached a little. She hadn’t expected to go anywhere. She thought she’d be back to lessons by lunch.
But now, here she was.
No mother. No servants. No one waiting for her at home. Just empty rooms and the scent of her mother’s armor polish still hanging in the air.
Lady Liliana had taken her mother to the citadel.
And Elen had been left behind.
She didn’t complain. She understood why. But it still felt strange. Too quiet.
She glanced down at her hands, resting in her lap.
The Duchess had given her ten gold crowns. She’d handed them over without hesitation after the incident at Maison Callaire, not just for protecting Grace, but for awakening her Mana Core, and for being with Grace, Elen knew this.
Elen had barely known what to say. She still didn’t.
Her mother told her to use the money wisely. To buy proper clothes. “Something fitted. Something noble. You’re not just a guardsman's daughter anymore.”
Elen had nodded.
And then kept wearing the same things anyway.
She knew she should stop by a tailor. Velwick had plenty. She even knew which one her mother liked.
But asking? That was harder.
She didn’t know if Grace or Clara would care. Probably not. But what if they thought she was showing off? Or asking for too much?
She pressed her hands together.
Maybe if they ask first. Or maybe I’ll just walk off while they’re shopping.
She heard voices outside.
They were coming.
She straightened her back.
Just a little.
--::--
The carriage rolled forward, smoother than expected. Heating charm on. Cushions soft. Velvet trim without wear. Of course, it was perfect. Elyne wouldn’t accept anything else.
Clara sat across from her, legs tucked, chattering quietly about something Grace wasn’t really tracking. Elen sat next to her, mostly silent, arms folded the same way she always did when she wasn’t sure how to feel. Elyne faced them from the opposite side, smiling politely, watching everything without appearing to watch.
Grace sat by the window.
They were arranged just like last time.
But everything had changed.
Outside, the estate trees blurred past. The frost had melted in patches, but the ground still crunched under hooves. Her knights rode beside the carriage this time, not behind in a second one. She could see them through the window, one in front, two behind, one on each side. Perfect formation.
Grace leaned her head against the window, eyes half-lidded. The trees outside blurred as they passed, the estate slipping away behind them.
Five years.
It’s been five years since Earth. Since that damn stream. Since I died live and woke up here in baby hell.
And now look at me. Sitting in a noble carriage, wearing fur-trimmed coats, sipping tea like I belong here.
I did it. I really wrote my own story.
She almost laughed.
I remember everything. My old room. My old voice. The dull glow of a screen at 3am. My stupid school bag. My mother’s yelling. It’s all still there, like it happened yesterday.
But it doesn’t feel like mine.
It’s more like watching someone else’s movie. Some try-hard cringe edge-lord with no sense of pacing.
She stared through the glass at the trees.
This world really messed with me, huh? And it’s not just the magic or the nobles or the fact I’m five.
It’s this body. This cursed tiny body. I can’t reach the second shelf, but apparently, I’m heir to a duchy. Great trade. Or I will be, when this idiot of brother will finally kill himself… what a jerk.
Her fingers tapped lightly against her leg.
And Liliana... what even is that feeling? She’s not my mother. Not really. Ok she gave birth to me. Jesus this is twisted… Or should I say ‘Iras’? But more unexpected is… when she looks at me like I matter, something pulls. Like I want to believe it.
She scowled slightly.
That’s new. That’s not me. I’m not emotional.
...Am I?
Her mind drifted back to earlier. Elyne’s voice. “The void magic that attacked you…”
Yeah. No. That wasn’t an attack. That was me. Coming here. Bleeding through the crack in the world.
Still, something’s wrong.
Something’s been off for weeks. I feel watched. Shifted. Like there’s something still clinging to me. Not from this world. Not from the last. Something from the In-between. Did Corax called it like this? The In-Between. Ah whatever, what is he even doing?
She closed her eyes, jaw tightening.
God, what a headache.
Maybe it’s just me unraveling. Maybe this is the real me. Congratulations, Grace — you’re finally feeling things. Fantastic.
What a mess.
Whatever. I’m overthinking. I’m not emotional. I’m just adjusting. Probably. Who even knows anymore.
Maybe I need more entertainment. This world is to dull for my mind. Yea that’s it… Oh wait, is Leon still alive? Shit.
The carriage slowed.
Grace blinked and looked up. The others were staring at her — Clara, Elen, even Elyne.
“…What?”
Clara tilted her head. “You didn’t answer. We were talking to you.”
“You spaced out,” Elen said. “Hard.”
Grace sat up straighter, brushing a hand through her curls. “Sorry. Just… tired.”
Elyne watched her too long before nodding.
Right, Grace thought. She’s worried again. Probably thinks I’m going to faint dramatically and cry about the pressure.
I’m five. I get it.
She looked back out the window as the walls of Valewick came into view — tall, grey, black warded iron gates ahead. The city opened up just beyond them, alive with sound and motion.
Grace exhaled slowly.
Let them think whatever they want.
Let them worry.
I don’t care.
