Earlier that day, high in the crisp, rushing air, Anna soared through the sky like a specter on the wind. Her white pale reaper coat billowed behind her, whipping wildly against the relentless gusts that tugged at its edges with icy fingers.

Her long hair fluttered in chaotic strands, lashing her face as her dark eyes, sharp and unyielding, scanned the vast surroundings ahead. She hurtled forward at breakneck speed, the world below a blurred tapestry of rolling hills and distant spires, her destination clear: the bustling town of Aria. The thin, biting chill of the altitude seeped through her coat, prickling her skin, while the roar of the wind filled her ears like a constant, furious whisper.

Though her gaze remained locked on the path ahead, turbulent thoughts swirled in her mind, twisting like storm clouds. *They all just take me lightly because I'm not like them,* she thought, bitterness rising like bile in her throat. *I wasn't some worthless orphan. I actually have a family. I'm a real noble, born into it, not made into one like them. I was born into the White family, while they were plucked from orphanages.*

Her fists clenched against the invisible reins of her flight, knuckles whitening. *We've all grown up, but I know they still hate me for it... thinking I'm some spoiled brat born with a silver spoon.* She clicked her tongue sharply, the sound lost to the wind, her brows furrowing into deep creases as anger flared hot in her chest, frustration coiling like a serpent.

Her memories surged back, unbidden and vivid, pulling her to the root of it all, how she had become a pale reaper, how she had joined their ranks, how she had been forged into one of the kingdom's deadliest weapons.

***************

It all began one fateful night, during a quiet dinner with her family and her little brother. The dining room was a cavernous space of refined elegance, dominated by a long brown table of polished oak that gleamed under the warm, flickering glow of freshly lit candles.

Their flames danced in the drafts, casting elongated shadows that played across the plush red carpet underfoot and the towering walls adorned with intricate tapestries. Tall windows lined one side, their heavy curtains drawn shut against the encroaching darkness outside, while a grand chandelier hung overhead, its myriad candles ablaze like a constellation brought indoors, illuminating every corner with a golden, honeyed light.

The air carried the rich scents of melting wax, roasted meats, and fresh bread, mingling with the faint, comforting aroma of aged wood and familial warmth that filled the room.

Seated at the head of the table was her father, his white hair catching the candlelight like fresh-fallen snow, framing a stern yet kind face etched with the lines of noble responsibility. Across from him sat her mother, her black hair cascading in elegant waves, absorbing the glow rather than reflecting it, her poised demeanor a pillar of quiet strength. Beside Anna, her little brother fidgeted with his utensils, his own white hair tousled and boyish, mirroring their father's in its pale sheen but softened by youthful innocence.

The clink of silverware against fine porcelain punctuated the meal, steam rising from platters of herb-crusted venison and buttered vegetables, their savory aromas weaving through the air like an invitation to linger.

Her father set down his goblet with a soft thud, the red wine inside swirling gently, and turned to Anna, his voice steady and authoritative. "Anna, as we discussed, tomorrow you'll be meeting up with the heroes. Be ready, it's an important step. Many of your friends will be there, so make the most of it."

Her little brother bounced in his seat, eyes widening with unchecked excitement, the candlelight sparkling in his gaze like distant stars. "I'm so excited! I wish I could be you, going to meet the heroes and getting trained by them. It sounds amazing!"

Anna forced a small smile, her fork idly twirling a strand of vegetable on her plate, the metal cool against her fingers as a knot of reluctance tightened in her stomach. She hadn't wanted any part of this, the prestige felt like a cage, not a calling, and her subdued expression betrayed the lack of enthusiasm that should have mirrored her brother's.

Her mother noticed, leaning forward with a gentle tilt of her head, her black hair shifting like silk in the warm light. "Your friends are going to be there, Anna. You should be excited, it's a wonderful opportunity."

If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

Anna nodded faintly, her dark eyes dropping to her plate, the flickering shadows from the chandelier playing across her face like unspoken doubts. The weight of their expectations hung in the air, thick as the candle smoke, even as the familial warmth tried to chase away the chill of her hidden reservations.

Anna slid the fork into her mouth, the freshly cut meat tender and savory against her tongue, its juices mingling with the subtle salt of the seasoning. She stared down at her plate, the candlelight flickering across the polished silverware, but then she noticed her mother's hand trembling, the knife wobbling as it sliced through her own steak, the blade catching the light in erratic glints. Her father's face had formed deep lines of concern, his brows furrowed like storm clouds, his usual steady gaze shadowed with unspoken dread.

She saw all of this, the way their smiles strained at the edges, the forced casualness in their postures. They were trying to hide it from her, but she knew her father and mother too well; their masks were transparent, cracking under the weight of whatever secret burdened them. For some reason, they were terrified, the air in the vast dining hall thick with it, like an invisible fog seeping from their tense forms.

Something is definitely going on, she thought, her fork pausing mid-air. This isn't going to be some normal meet-up with the heroes. She knew that much, the opportunity to see the heroes, to speak with them, even to be trained by them, was rare for nobles. And yet, her parents were afraid, their hands trembling, their joy a thin veneer over fear.

"Father," she said, her voice low and steady, cutting through the room's heavy silence like a blade.

Her father looked at her suddenly, his eyes meeting hers, dark like her mother's, mirroring the seriousness in her own. His daughter had always been this way, always serious, her demeanor a shield of composure.

Even last week, on her 15th birthday, she had been reserved, smiling not as frequently as the other guests. That's how she was, the opposite of her mother, but inside, he knew she acted this way in front of them, not with her friends.

"What do you mean?" he asked, his tone guarded, the words hanging in the air like unspoken warnings.

Her mother and little brother directed their attention to her, the little brother keeping his fork in his mouth, almost as if playing with it with his tongue, oily residue from the meat smearing his lips. The mother just held her fork and knife, frozen in mid-motion, looking at her with wide eyes, listening intently to what she had to say.

Anna pressed on. "You're trying to hide it, but I can see through it."

The mother chimed in, her voice soft but strained, like a string pulled too tight. "What are you talking about, dear?"

Anna's gaze sharpened. "Look at Mother. Her hands have constantly been trembling since last week. It's the same with you. You've been frowning, deep in thought, since then. You're telling me to be excited about it, but even you don't seem excited yourselves."

The mother tilted her head, her knife still hovering over her plate. "Why do you think that? We're genuinely happy for you, dear."

But Anna quickly interrupted, her voice rising sharply. "I'm not stupid!" she said loudly. "I told you that I don't want to go there, and it seems that you also don't want me to go there. I know that, but yet you're forcing me to go." As she said it, looking down at her plate, the words hung heavy, the candle flames flickering as if in response to the tension. "Is someone forcing you to do this?"

Her father's expression hardened, a vein pulsing in his temple, his voice booming with authority laced with desperation. "That's enough, Anna. Mind your tone."

The father continued, his voice firm but cracking at the seams, like wood under pressure. "We're simply choosing what's best for you, even if we have to force it."

The mother then said, her words barely above a whisper, her hands now visibly shaking, the knife clinking against her plate. "Yes."

"Listen to your father." her mother added, her voice quavering like a leaf in the wind

The father leaned forward slightly, his fork clattering against the china as he set it down with deliberate force, his eyes locking onto Anna's. "How can you even believe anyone can force the White family to do anything? Only the king can enforce anything upon us. Nobody else, not even the heroes, can do that. Are you doubting your family's power?"

Anna answered, "No." The word was barely audible, a whisper lost in the vast hall, as she looked down in shame, her cheeks burning with a flush of humiliation, the candlelight casting long shadows across her lowered gaze.

The mother sighed, the sound heavy and laden with unspoken worry, her trembling hand finally setting the utensils down with a soft clink.

"Listen, Anna. This is the first time this has ever happened. No noble in the kingdom has ever had the opportunity to be trained by the heroes. And you were one of the lucky nobles to be chosen, amidst hundreds of others. This is a very big opportunity for you. You could gain so much from this. You will have an even higher standing among the other nobles, lifting the White family's status from the ground up. You will be the pillar of the White family's name."

Hearing that made her smile, a faint curve of her lips as a bit of pride simmered inside her, warm and flickering like the chandelier's flames, chasing away some of the shame that had knotted her stomach.

Her little brother looked at her, then turned to his mother, his oily lips glistening in the light as he chewed thoughtfully.

"Mother, when do you think I'm going to be trained by the heroes?"Her mother chuckled softly, the sound light but edged with forced mirth, her knife resuming its cut with a steadier hand. "Maybe when you also turn 15 someday."

"Really? Then I can't wait to turn 15, just like Big Sis," her little brother said, his oily lips curling into a grin as he shoved another forkful of vegetables into his mouth.

His mother smiled, the expression warm but strained, like a mask slipping in the candlelight. "Then you better eat up so you can grow up faster than that," she said, her knife resuming its cut with a soft scrape.

Her little brother dove into the vegetables with even more gusto, chewing noisily, the oily sheen on his lips catching the light as he grinned through bites.

Her mother let out a small giggle, her mouth closed, the sound light but tinged with nervousness, as she continued eating, her fork piercing the meat with careful precision.

Anna looked at her father. He stared at his plate, barely touched, the food cooling in neglected piles. His expression was a deep frown, lines etching deeper into his forehead like carved worry. He was clearly lost in thought again, his eyes distant, shadowed by the chandelier's flickering glow.

*There it is again, Anna thought, a knot of suspicion tightening in her chest. They're trying to convince me that I'm just going to train, but there's something more to it, isn't there?*

Next chapter will be updated first on this website. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.