November of the Sainted Year (First Civil Month)

Opening Scene: Remembrance

On the fifth civil month of the Sainted October, she came to see him wearing a short, frilly white dress—something wholly uncharacteristic of her.

There was something otherworldly about Sylia, even when she wasn't cloaked in divine splendor or threading the air with Spells. Beneath the afternoon light, seated in a sun-dappled grove, she looked disarmingly human. Bare shoulders, a soft ivory dress cinched in a bow, hair cascading in waves of glossy darkness, she was summer's echo, warmth distilled into form.

A single white blossom adorned her hair like a careless afterthought, and yet it belonged there, as if it had bloomed just for her. Her skin, kissed faintly golden by the sun, seemed to glow from within. Her eyes, those bright, softly luminous green eyes, held secrets older than her smile suggested. They twinkled with mischief, memory, and a hint of melancholy, all at once.

She had an ease about her, sitting perfectly still yet giving the impression of motion, as if she might rise at any moment to follow a breeze or vanish down some sylvan path. Her laughter, when it came, could silence or soothe. And her presence, even in stillness, was like a charm cast quietly over the scene.

Those who met Sylia rarely agreed on what struck them first. Her beauty, her bearing, or the quiet ripple in the air that followed wherever she went, as if the world itself held its breath.

But all who saw her remembered her.

And none forgot they had seen something sacred, wrapped in soft fabric, sunlight, and an unsettling smile.

Yet Dyungel Gyuntez Krevoski-Sigmund felt nothing.

He knew precisely what she wanted from him, and he would give it—no matter how much it revolted him. His disgust festered, mostly at her, but not entirely spared for himself. To lie with her again and again while his three wives, whom he genuinely cherished, waited elsewhere was unbearable.

However, today was different. He could sense it. She wanted to play a little longer.

He smiled, bitterly. So be it, he thought. He would let her be passed around, shared among his kin as often as she pleased. And he did. Again, and again, and again.

Back in reality, Sylia stood before Dyungel's body, which was half-fused with a crystalline tree, his limbs absorbed into the trunk's glimmering mass. A deep frown shadowed her face. His relatives stood nearby, quiet and stricken.

One of them turned to her and asked, hesitantly,"Will he be alright?"

Sylia replied without looking up.

"This is all we can do for him now. Giving him an illusion. A dream he can live in. Be content. He's nearly gone. We missed the moment to say goodbye. He was already slipping, maybe due to Gyuntez's Worm stirring again and distorting his mind too much."

She turned to the gathered family, her voice softening.

"I'll assign one of my Spiritus to take his place for a while. Just enough to ease the children into a life without him. He can't be allowed near them like this. Not anymore."

***

On that day of the first civil month of the Sainted November, Adana Bimario, who was already busy trying to distance herself from the shady business her husband had started, received an unusual visit. Dina Vernaccio came to see her of all people, and she didn't come alone. She brought not only her children but a few of her cousins.

Adana watched her cousin Dina Vernaccio carefully from her seat. Dina lived south of the City, near the South Gates on the East Side within the Fenced Commoners Area. Her main residence, however, was located deep in the Dernavios Forest, where several families of Sigmundi blood had settled. Dio Krevoski-Sigmund and his son Dionito Sigmond each maintained a house there.

The forest itself concealed part of a Half-Enclave—space bent and distorted, with much of it existing in a Mid-Enclaved zone that only authorized individuals could access.

Dina possessed both a pendant and a bracelet that allowed her to enter the more restricted areas, including the forest residence and the surrounding country homes she shared with her husband.

Adana knew Dina had undertaken quite a journey to reach the northeastern settlement. The two women hadn't been especially close until a few years earlier, when they'd discovered their blood ties.

Dina was the illegitimate child of a disgraced knight and a low-born chambermaid. She'd been handed off to the more reputable side of her mother's family, and her father's kin had all but ignored her. It wasn't until she turned ten—when her distinctive hair and certain innate gifts began to draw attention in her Church—that anyone on her father's side took notice.

Her Magical ability was limited, and her lineage unimpressive, but she bore enough traits of the Vernaccio family, her paternal grandmother's Noble Bloodline, for her claim to be acknowledged.

Her uncle, Count Garutam, had taken her in not long after. Though he never formally adopted her, he accepted her into the extended family out of consideration for her grandmother, who was also a beloved aunt of his. He had already assumed responsibility for several of his disgraced brother's children, but Dina's case had been especially delicate. Her education had come late—too late, in many ways. She was over eleven when she entered the Garutam household, and by then, the gaps in her upbringing were already obvious.

Adana sighed. Growing up in the City of Kamelyon hadn't helped matters. Dina was illiterate, unpolished in speech and manners while quite unfamiliar with the customs of the Gentry and completely ignorant of the Nobles' ways. Her knowledge of Magic was shallow at best. She could barely follow basic Magic Sygils and wasn't trusted with Spellwork.

Fortunately, Dina possessed natural gifts that helped offset some of these deficits. With the help of the Saints who had provided her with pre-inscribed Magic Sygils and enchanted pendants, she had made notable progress in potion brewing. She didn't need to grasp the Magical theory; following instructions was enough.

After months of harsh training, she had learned to harvest herbs from the forest and prepare simple potions for her family and husband, some of which she even Managed to sell.

Despite all her shortcomings, Dina had struck gold twelve years ago when she married Dyungel Gyuntez Jr. Krevoski-Sigmund, the son of Gyuntez. She had met him only two years before their wedding.

Dina was thirty-four now, nearly the same age as Adana, though she had the advantage of looking younger thanks as much to her youthful features as to the childishness that still colored her behavior. Seated beside Adana, she appeared younger still, like a heartbroken girl trying to hold herself together.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Adana had been tempted to send her away—she had enough burdens of her own—but in the end, she couldn't bring herself to turn aside a cousin who, from the look of things, had likely been rejected by the rest of her family.

Dina must have traveled a considerable distance to reach this northern settlement. Coming from the southern outskirts of the City was no small feat, especially with all the land extensions. Unlike the City, the suburbs lacked Magical Doors—convenient Portal Doors granted by the Spirits and Gods who had expanded the City—that made commuting easier for most City residents.

Adana glanced at Dina from across the table, her voice low and composed. "It must have taken you most of the day."

Dina sniffled, dabbing her nose with a folded kerchief. "It did. But I had to get away."

"Something happened at home? I heard there was some trouble with your cousin earlier."

Dina gave a slow nod. "She won't let me speak about Cesylia or Syl Celia. She forbade it. There's… some kind of issue, I think."

Adana didn't press further. Everyone knew Dilegrina Varslow loathed the Saints more than anyone else in the City. And lately, Adana's husband had been spending a lot of time around that woman.

"What about your sister? Your mother?" she asked finally.

"They want nothing to do with it." Dina answered, her voice tightening. "Neither my foster mother nor my birth mother. They said they owe the Saints too much."

Adana sighed. "So, that's why you came. You think I'd understand. Go on."

Dina hesitated before continuing, "My husband's back with her. For good this time. I know he didn't want to be, but he didn't have a choice. His Church… it's strict. And she must have threatened to cast us all out if he refused. You know how he is. He's falling apart over it. I've never seen him like this."

Adana studied her cousin's face. She wasn't sure whether to believe her. Dina had always been too quick to feel slighted, too emotional, too prone to imagining things that weren't there. It wasn't hard to see why her sister and mothers refused to listen. But then—

"I swear I'm right this time." Dina insisted, eyes pleading. "I heard him cry about it. He said he had no choice."

That made Adana pause. She searched her memory. Something surfaced. An old story her former husband had once told her.

Dina bit her lip. "And there's Mai. She's coming to live with us permanently this time. Not just visiting. Her brother Gayl's happy about it. I heard they're dissolving the adoption with Gyuntez, and my husband will be forced to acknowledge her now."

"Are you certain?" Adana asked.

"Yes," Dina said, clearly agitated. "I have to prepare a place for her. She's going to run the household. I won't be allowed to say a word. It was Sylia and Syl Celia's decision. They said my children weren't properly educated. That Deyana and Wendy were far behind because I kept them home to help me. My husband… he took their side. He was shocked that Deyana could barely read or write."

Adana's gaze drifted to the brown-haired girl nibbling at pastries. The sweets had clearly come from the Saints' staff. Her own children had returned with similar treats. It was sugar-and-treats day. Quietly, she began counting in her head. This year had been long, and if what Sarendo once told her was true, then Dina was in real trouble.

It wasn't surprising that Sylia had decided to send Mai to supervise. Adana felt a twinge of sympathy for Dyungel's three wives. None of them had the means or training to survive on their own. If even Adana struggled, what chance did these women have—saddled with children far above their station, and with almost no resources nor skills?

She considered whether to say more. Dina's angry rambling about the Saints' supposed coercion was only making things worse. Adana knew better. They both did. Denial wouldn't change anything.

"Dina," she said carefully, "my ex-husband Sarendo once told me something about Dyungel. About his past."

Dina leaned forward, hopeful. "Yes?"

"He got himself in trouble and ended up deep in debt. After that incident, he should've died. He was gravely wounded. Not just his body. His Soul was damaged. Grenar and Gyuntez were involved somehow."

Dina's face contorted. "What does that have to do with me?"

"He was saved by the Saints. They fed him Mana, enough to keep him going. But it wasn't meant to last this long. I think… he's running out of time. He may only have two or three years. Perhaps less."

Dina stood abruptly, her chair scraping. "What?!"

Her children flinched, startled by the sudden outburst.

Adana spoke calmly, but her words carried weight. "Glumar told me recently that Sylia and Syl Celia are preparing to let Dyungel go. He's no longer responding to the Soul Mana they've been feeding him. In fact, he's begun rejecting their help entirely. That usually means he's ready to die and has grown tired of life."

Dina's eyes welled up. "What are you saying?"

"I think they're letting him go." Adana said, more gently now. "Their daughter might be able to extend his life by a few more months without direct intervention from Sylia or Syl Celia. But once he dies, you won't be allowed to remain where you are. It would be too dangerous."

She paused, watching Dina's reaction before continuing.

"They're likely preparing to relocate you to one of the Fenced Areas. That's why Mai is there. She's supervising to get the children ready—to leave the Queen of the Night's domain. Most of your children don't even belong to that Church for their Bloodline. Look at them. Their hair alone gives it away."

Dina looked pale.

"Glumar said that's why the Saints insisted you learn potion-brewing. So you could survive once you're on your own. Because when Dyungel dies—and that will likely be within a few months—you'll have nothing to fall back on."

Adana's voice grew colder.

"Your only chance, frankly, is if one of his siblings or even his father agrees to take you in. But I doubt it. His siblings? Unlikely. And Gyuntez? He's running out of time too. You had seven children with Dyungel, and three more from other men before that. How do you expect to support them all by yourself?"

Dina looked like she might collapse under the weight of it.

"Some of your children are like you." Adana went on. "Born with low Magic and Mana. Deyana's power level is almost identical to yours. Wendy's is a little better, but she's from a different bloodline—probably close to your husband's mother. She isn't educated enough to be accepted anywhere prestigious. Without proper backing, you're heading for the Slums. Or at least the lowest Commoners quarters."

At that, Deyana stood up and shouted, "Mother!"

Adana didn't flinch. "Dina, listen to me. You need to hold on to Mai for as long as you can. She's the best protection for you and your children. But don't think she'll stay long. You've obviously been telling people your side of the story. How do you think the Saints will respond to that?"

Her voice lowered, almost a whisper now. "Do you truly believe they'll continue feeding and sheltering someone who talks behind their back while living on their land, in their homes, under their protection?"

"I need to speak with my father." Dina blurted. "He's involved with her. I know he can make her yield."

Adana's voice was cool. "Do you really think he'll still claim you as his daughter, now that you've gone around slandering the Saints to everyone who would listen? Even your cousin wouldn't risk being seen with you. She likely thought it was a trap. Dina… did Viana get to you again? She always knows how to twist your jealousy. What did she tell you this time to make you take a public stand against the Saints?"

Adana shook her head. "You do realize Sylia will likely throw you all three wives out of her properties since you're usually a team."

"You don't understand!" Dina shouted. "The Saints are falling, so is their so-called Goddess! When the former Queen of the Night returns, everything they own will be ours. Her lands, her assets—they'll belong to my family!"

Deyana's head snapped up, followed by several of her siblings'. Their mother's words sounded like pure blasphemy.

Adana's sigh was heavy. "So they've pushed you even deeper into madness this time. Maybe even used Spells."

"Please, believe me—" Dina started, but Adana reached over and gently took her arm.

"Fallen Gods don't rise back, Dina. Slain ones might with the aid of their Flock and the Spirits but Fallen Gods only fall further. That's the rule."

Deyena nodded solemnly and reached for her younger brother's arm. "We must go pray, Shreyn for Mother's sake. We must ask the Gods and Spirits for forgiveness."

Shreyn blinked, confused. "But I'm still digesting. And we were in the middle of a card game…"

Deyena gave him a sharp glare, then turned and began dragging her other siblings with her. Wendy stood too, backing her sister with quick resolve. "Shreyn, if you want to keep eating sweet treats, then move. Where do you think all that sugar comes from?"

Shreyn's eyes widened. He leapt to his feet, alarmed, and followed without further protest. Their cousin Dyalko scrambled up right behind him, panic etched on his face. "We must pray for the Goddess and her Saints to stay safe! Come on, everyone. Let's show our support to our Goddess, who's being attacked by the corrupt, the greedy, and the traitors!"

Dina stared, aghast, as Dyalko charged ahead. She reached for her son, trying to hold him back, only for him to pull away, none too gently.

He looked her straight in the eyes. "You're a blasphemous woman." he said coldly. "Coveting the lands and homes lent by our Goddess' Saints. How could you? You should be ashamed of yourself."

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