The First State Of Matter

echoes of the past

Dario Erikson wandered through Edinsburough Manor, the weight of his new title pressing upon him like a mantle. As he strolled through the grand halls adorned with the family crest of silver griffins, memories flooded back—echoes of laughter and warmth that once filled the air. The manor, with its worn wood and elegant decor, felt both like a sanctuary and a prison, capturing the duality of his heritage.

With each step, he was drawn back to the kitchen, a place that had been the heart of his family. The scents of spices and baked goods lingered in his mind, each one a reminder of his mother bustling about, preparing elaborate meals. He could hear her voice—soft yet commanding—"You eat as if we starve you, child!" She had always scolded him for his haste at the dinner table, a mix of love and exasperation in her tone. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he recalled how he would laugh it off, shoveling food into his mouth while his father chuckled at the sight.

After savoring the memories, Dario turned toward his old room. The door creaked open with a familiar groan, revealing darkness that enveloped him. Just as he remembered, the windows were shrouded, allowing only the faintest slivers of light to filter through. The red satin sheets on the bed looked inviting yet haunting, a reminder of his childhood and the space that had once been a sanctuary.

He took a seat on the edge of the bed, glancing around. The room felt larger than he had remembered, and the emptiness struck him. Aside from the king-sized bed, a closet filled with old clothes, a battered bookshelf, and a simple stool, it was nearly devoid of personal touches. "It's damn near empty," he mumbled to himself, a mix of nostalgia and realization washing over him.

His parents had strived to raise him as a minimalist, encouraging independence over dependence. As a child, he hadn't understood their motives, but now, standing in that near-empty room, he grasped the intention behind their choices. It was a lesson he was only beginning to fully appreciate.

His gaze landed on a dark spot on the hardwood floor—a scorch mark that ignited a painful memory. He stood quickly, feeling the weight of that day in his gut. The flames, the chaos, and the guilt surged forward, prompting him to escape the suffocating memories that lingered. He moved through the corridor, fingers trailing along the wall, seeking solace in the familiar.

Dario arrived at his parents' room and hesitated before pushing the door open. Inside, the atmosphere was heavy with silence. It was just as he remembered—modest and slightly smaller than his own room. The bed was unmade, the sheets folded neatly, almost mockingly. As a child, he had always wondered why their bed was smaller. It had felt suffocating at times, like a life too big for him to comprehend.

He closed the door, deciding to continue his survey of the manor. But just as he turned to leave, he heard footsteps ascending the stairs. Instinctively, he conjured three orbs of water from the air, each swirling slowly in his palm as the dutch inhibitor on the back of his hand glowed faintly in the dim hallway. He focused on the opening at the top of the stairs, ready to confront whatever intruder dared to breach his solitude.

"Master Dario," a soft voice called from the shadows, breaking the tension.

"Show yourself," he commanded, his heart racing with anticipation.

A dark-haired young woman emerged, clad in the grey uniform of a maid. Her faint grey eyes met his, a flash of recognition igniting in his memory. She looked to be around his age, her features familiar yet altered by time. As he closed the distance, a light scar on her left temple became visible—one he recognized but couldn't place.

"Carolyn. Carolyn Jill!" he exclaimed, a smile breaking across his face as nostalgia washed over him.

Her smile was tentative yet genuine. "Yes. It's been a while, hasn't it?" she replied, her voice almost a whisper.