Court Of Shadows and Lies

6. Chains of Family

I gazed out from the window of my room, the crisp air flowing in as I watched Elliora play alone beneath the sprawling branches of an ancient tree. In her ten years of existence, I had never once spoken to her. She was a quiet soul, hesitant to voice her thoughts until the age of five. Once I had come to understand the political undercurrents of our household, I withdrew into myself, ignoring the bonds of family that felt more like chains than connections.

Elliora's freckled face often drew the cruel taunts of Isla, my younger sister, whose penchant for cruelty knew no bounds. That little brat was the most useless being in this house, yet she commanded the attention of our family with her spiteful antics.

As expected, Isla soon appeared, flanked by a group of friends whose menacing expressions mirrored her own. Elliora, blissfully unaware, sat cross-legged on the grass, absorbed in her world of dolls and imagination.

Isla’s voice cut through the air like a knife, her laughter ringing with malice. I couldn’t understand their words, but I knew well enough the nature of her torment. Elliora's eyes flickered with fear and embarrassment as Isla unleashed her insults, likely aimed at the very freckles that marked her cheeks.

One of Isla’s friends lunged forward, snatching a doll from Elliora’s grasp and tossing it away as if it were nothing more than a piece of refuse. Elliora scrambled after it, her heart racing, but Isla shoved her back, and she tumbled onto the grass, helpless.

I had never endured such bullying from Meliora. We had been close in our childhood, bound by laughter and innocent secrets. But as our paths twisted with ambition, her desire to win Father’s favor had driven a wedge between us, leaving me to observe this new dynamic with a sense of bitterness.

Suddenly, Elliora turned to me, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, a silent cry for help that pierced through the darkness of my own memories.

I clenched my jaw, torn between my own fears and the instinct to protect her.

Should I intervene, risking everything, or let her suffer?

I averted my gaze, retreating from the window, the sound of my heartbeat roaring in my ears.

But isn’t this just what Meliora did to me?

"Sister! Don’t let Father take me!" I screamed, the echo of my voice resonating painfully in my mind. Meliora stood by the bed, my beloved doll clutched tightly in her hand.

"Sister, tell Father I didn't break the vase! I didn’t lie!" My voice cracked, desperation clawing at my throat as I relived the moment. I felt the cold grip of my father’s hand around my arm, dragging me away from safety, from my sister.

Meliora’s face was a mask of fear and confusion, her wide eyes reflecting my terror as she stood paralyzed. She was helpless, her breath hitching as the reality of our father’s wrath sank in. The broken vase lay on the floor between us, a symbol of our shattered childhood, and I could feel the weight of Meliora's regret as she stood next to it, unable to act.

"Please! Don’t take me!" I pleaded, my heart racing as the door slammed shut behind me, cutting me off from her. I could hear Meliora's whimper, the sound reverberating in the silence, haunting me as I was dragged into the darkness.

I opened my eyes, a cold sweat coating my skin, and turned toward the door.

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Isla's voice rang out with smug pride and arrogance, her words dripping with mockery.

"Look at you, Elliora, still hiding those freckles, huh? Like that'll help. You’re never going to be pretty with a face like that." Isla sneered, tossing her hair back dramatically as her friends giggled beside her.