In the dimness of the room, the disparity between them was almost palpable. On one side, Elyandra—small, wrapped in her white nightgown, the purity of her garment contrasting with the shadow of sadness in her golden eyes and the paleness of her skin. Her white hair, fine as moonlight strands, framed a childish face marked by recent loss.
On the other, Lord Vaelric—an imposing figure whose stature and military bearing were undeniable, even while sitting on the edge of the bed. His dark, impeccably cut clothes absorbed the little light in the room, giving him an austere and reserved aura. His features were firm, his jaw defined, and his eyes, usually piercing, were now softened by contained concern. The very essence of his presence emanated power and discipline.
Elyandra's mind, despite the pain, processed her father's image, searching the lines of his face for some clue about the past of the woman who had protected her with such ferocity. That man, so distant in his emotions most of the time, was now the only bridge to understanding the story of her beloved Siris.
Lord Vaelric proceeded, his deep, measured voice breaking the dense silence of the room.
— I proposed that she join me — he repeated, turning his gaze forward, as if reliving the scenes in his mind.
After accepting Lord Vaelric's proposal with a reluctance still visible in every tense movement of her body, Siris followed him. The contrast between them remained striking. She, with her quick and furtive steps, maintaining a cautious distance from the knights of the guard, looked like a dark shadow hovering at the edge of the light. Her tattered clothes and the wild look she occasionally cast at her surroundings betrayed her as someone who had always lived on the fringes of society.
Lord Vaelric, in turn, walked ahead with an upright and imposing posture. The way he commanded his men with a nod or a brief verbal command demonstrated his unquestionable authority. The journey back to the Valemortis lands was marked by a heavy silence, where the mistrust of one and the cautious observation of the other created a tension almost palpable in the forest air.
— But... did she accept so easily, father? — Elyandra questioned, her brow furrowed in confusion. — After everything you described... that anger, that mistrust...
Lord Vaelric shook his head slightly.
— No, Elyandra. She didn't accept easily. Far from it.
Born a slave, her childhood had been a cycle of abuse and exploitation at the hands of both sadistic nobles and brutal criminals. This early, cruel experience had planted a deep and indiscriminate anger in her heart against any figure of authority. To Siris, nobles and criminals were just different sides of the same coin of oppression.
Lord Valemortis's voice resumed, transporting them to Siris's first night in the Valemortis lands.
— I didn't bring her here initially. I took her to the Valemortis Fortress, one of our military foundations closest to the Empire's walls. The Fortress was a safe and isolated place to observe her next steps.
He paused, a slightly grave tone in his voice.
— On that first night... Siris tried to kill me. She invaded my quarters with a silent fury, an improvised blade hidden beneath her clothes. There was no hesitation in her eyes, only a cold determination to end the threat I represented in her mind. I had no difficulty in restraining her attempt. It was evident that her skill was raw, instinctive, but lacked formal training. However, her ferocity was undeniable. I realized then the extent of her mistrust. She genuinely believed I had taken her for a new form of exploitation. That was the only reality she knew.
Elyandra remained silent for a moment, processing the image of that wild and desperate young girl trying to assassinate her father. A complex mix of surprise and a strange affinity drew across her features.
— After that first night — Lord Valemortis continued —, Siris attempted to take my life several other times. Not with the same blind fury as the first, but with a growing cunning, seeking flaws in my guard. On every occasion, I managed to frustrate her attempts without inflicting harm. I saw in her eyes, behind that wild hostility, a deep fear and an unshakable belief that I would eventually hurt her.
It was a delicate and tense period. Lord Valemortis faced a dilemma. Keeping a potential assassin under his roof was a considerable risk. However, he saw something beyond that defensive violence. There was a sharp intelligence behind those bitter eyes. He observed Siris from afar, noting her agility during the guard's training, her ability to learn quickly. There was a spark, a raw potential. The question was: how to reach that girl hardened by the world's cruelty?
— I reached a conclusion — Lord Valemortis said. — Siris needed something... or rather, someone to anchor her.
The period that followed marked a subtle change. The Lord, realizing that the girl's hostility was fueled by deep insecurity, began to show a more constant presence in her life. He began to actively follow her training, offering guidance and correcting her technique with the precision of a martial master. Slowly, he also began to instruct her in the manners of House Valemortis.
Curiously, the influence of the Valemortis nobility had already begun to take effect on Siris even before this direct intervention. The girl had already ceased to exhibit the disheveled and defensive physical aspect of her first days. She had adopted a discreet hairstyle, pinning her dark hair in a way that denoted a previously absent care. It was the same hairstyle she kept all the time she served Elyandra.
— Over time — Lord Valemortis proceeded, his voice now carrying a softness that rarely manifested —, that defensive grit of Siris's began to give way. It took years... but she stopped attempting my life. Instead, she began to... seek my guidance.
There was a brief pause, and Elyandra noticed a almost paternal glint in her father's eyes.
— I came to see her, in a way... as if she were my own daughter. A daughter molded by the hardness of the world, but with a loyal heart that just needed a direction.
Elyandra gripped the fine fabric of her clothes, her knuckles whitening. Her mind wandered, trying to visualize the dark life Siris had lived. A painful tightness rose in her chest—a sting of late empathy for the woman who had protected her with such selflessness.
— When Siris reached adulthood, around eighteen, she was no longer that wild girl from the streets. Her sharp intelligence, combined with her training, transformed her into an invaluable asset. She acted primarily as an infiltrator and analyst. Her ability to move in the shadows was remarkable. She became as skilled as she was efficient.
Lord Valemortis stood up from the edge of the bed. He reached into the inner pocket of his noble robes, carefully withdrawing a small rectangular object. It was a photograph. He handed it to Elyandra.
The young noble took the photo with trembling hands. In that faded image, Siris stood beside other members of the Valemortis military forces. Her bearing was upright, her hair tied back practically, and in her eyes, there was no trace of wild bitterness. Instead, there was an intense focus.
— She... she looks a bit like Dalia in this photo, doesn't she? — she commented.
— It's true. Both share an intense focus and a silent efficiency. Military discipline molded them both in their own way. — He sighed. — I believed everything was finally reaching a satisfying conclusion. But then... during a mission, something happened. She had a relapse.
The scene Lord Valemortis described unfolded with cold precision. Siris was leading a squad to intercept a shipment of contraband. The ambush was quick. While the cargo was being inspected, Siris saw them: children. Hidden under coarse cloths, their thin faces marked by suffering. But what truly made Siris's eyes go cold was the look on their faces. It was the same silent ire, the same deep bitterness she knew so well from her own soul.
In that instant, something broke inside Siris. Her face contorted into a mask of uncontrollable fury. That night, Siris disappeared. And when dawn broke over Darkport, almost all the slave traders still operating in the area were found dead.
When Lord Valemortis finally found her, the dawn was barely breaking over the filthy alleys. Siris stood in the middle of the grime, her body exhausted, her clothes torn from the brutality of the fights.
— Siris — Lord Valemortis said, his voice grave.
The young woman turned to him, her gaze lost. In a hoarse, distant voice, she murmured:
— I... I don't know who I am anymore.
In an effort to comfort Siris's tormented soul, Lord Valemortis crouched down and sat beside her on the dirty ground. With a rare gesture of affection, he extended an arm and placed his hand on Siris's head. Finally, Siris dropped the bloodstained daggers she still clutched and hid her face between her arms and legs, her posture expressing profound exhaustion.
— In that moment, Elyandra — Lord Valemortis said —, I realized that what she really needed... was something to protect.
Against Siris's will, Lord Valemortis assigned her to the training of House Valemortis servants. To Siris, the idea of serving was an insult. However, the constant, silent influence of Lord Valemortis began to take effect. He visited her during her training, not to force her, but to observe. Slowly, her initial reluctance gave way to a hesitant acceptance.
Years later, Siris sought out Lord Valemortis. She found him at the Fortress. Siris approached with firm but graceful steps. She performed a soft, respectful bow.
— Lord Valemortis — she greeted, her voice now modulated, without the roughness of the streets. — I would like to share what I have learned. Above all, I learned the value of loyalty and dedication to those who trust me.
Lord Valemortis noticed a subtle shadow in Siris's gaze. It was as if she were wearing a mask. He realized that Siris had not yet understood the true purpose behind that training.
— My Lord — Siris said, her composure slightly broken by a question that revealed her old nature —, what will my current mission be?
Observing the expectation beneath Siris's composure, Lord Valemortis decided it was time to put his plan into action. He led her to the gardens. He stopped, looking at the greenery.
— Your current mission, Siris — he said —, is of utmost importance. Something I wouldn't trust to just anyone.
Siris followed his line of sight. Her eyes found Lady Altheria sitting on a stone bench. At that moment, a small, white-haired figure came running across the grass. It was Elyandra. Lady Altheria lifted her daughter into a warm embrace.
Lord Valemortis looked back at Siris. The military rigidity in her posture remained, but her eyes... they had lost that usual coldness. There was a subtle, almost childlike glint, as if she had glimpsed something beautiful and unexpected.
— So, my Lord — Siris asked, her voice now tinged with genuine curiosity —, what is, in fact, my mission?
— Your new role, Siris — Lord Valemortis said —, will no longer involve combat or dangerous infiltrations. Your mission, from now on, will be simple. You will be the servant of my daughter, Elyandra.
Shock was written across Siris's face. The idea seemed so distant from everything she had been trained to do.
— Prepare yourself, Siris. Soon, you will live in our house.
Back in the dimness of Elyandra's room, the young noble clutched Siris's photograph with trembling hands.
— Father... — her voice was a hesitant whisper — all that Siris did for me... was it real? Or was she still... on a mission? Was that kindness just a mask? Did she really care about me?
— You are mistaken, Elyandra — Lord Valemortis replied, his voice carrying a soft firmness. — The truth is that Siris fell in love with you the instant she entered this room for the first time.
He paused.
— She acted as if it were a mission until the moment she finally met you in person. I observed her, Elyandra. I saw the undeniable change in her eyes when your gazes first crossed. That glint... it was real. It was pure. There was no calculation there, only... fascination.
Lord Valemortis continued, his voice now thick with contained emotion.
— I followed the routine of you two closely, from the shadows. And I can tell you, with all the certainty of my heart, that Siris saw in you the childhood brightness that cruel life had denied her. Through you, she could glimpse the innocence she never had. That loyalty, that care... they weren't a mission, Elyandra. They were love. True love, in her own way.
Her father's words hit Elyandra like an overwhelming wave. The tears now poured freely, accompanied by convulsive sobs. She stood up abruptly, staggering toward her father, and clung to his noble robes with desperate strength, her small body shaking. The loss of Siris, now covered by the certainty of her genuine love, planted a seed of maturity in her young and afflicted heart.