The Merchant's Daughters

Prologue

Louis Bissette meandered through his humble house, drifting silently from room to room as he restlessly checked on each of his children. Louis, a merchant by trade, was a devoted father and he worried endlessly for their wellbeing. This nightly vigil was his routine. Each night, a few moments after midnight, he carefully left his bed and looked into each of his daughters' bedrooms. Although he'd never had a son, he'd been blessed with three beautiful daughters, each of them charming in their own unique way.

 The eldest daughter, Helene was fiery and curious to a fault. Sometimes, they hadn't the foggiest idea where she was. When she returned she would have grand tales of adventure to tell at dinner. Everyone always looked forward to her stories, even if half of it was made up.

 The middle daughter, Cecile, was witty and practical to the point of insanity. She always had to be doing something useful, even if it wasn't at all necessary. One spring, in particular, she brought it on herself to make each of the women in the family a new dress, despite the fact that Louis had many, higher quality gowns that he could have simply given them. 

Renee, the youngest of the three, was meek and studios. She spent much of her time reading and pouring through classic tales, the histories of distant lands and philosophy alike. As a result, she was as sharp as a tack and could engage any scholar in a brilliant debate.

Louis sighed with relief each time he saw their innocent, sleeping faces, blissfully unaware of how troubled his own sleep was. Louis battled a lifelong night terror that woke him into fits of screaming nearly nightly. In the dream, he was running down a stone staircase. The path before him was lit, but blackness rushed at him from behind. It reached for him with sharp claws, ready to tear him apart. Once his children were born, they replaced him in the nightmare. Now it was his daughters that the darkness reached for. They who it wished to devour.

He stood a moment in the silent shadows of Renee's room, smiling as he pet her mahogany curls. It was silly really, his believing that a monster would come and take his children from him. They were always quite fine and they lived a simple life. They certainly weren't in any danger from monsters. He had told himself this many a night, but he still couldn't shake the feeling that the dream was a bad omen. Perhaps it was a warning that misfortune was to befall them. That hungry darkness could very well be a metaphor for death. He shuttered at the very thought of having to bury one his girls. There was little doubt in his mind that he wouldn't survive such a loss.

"Father?" Louis heard Cecile's strong voice. He turned slightly to find her standing in the doorway, her hands on her hips as she frowned at him. "What are you doing? You should be in bed. You know you must rise early in the morning."

Louis smiled at his middle daughter, feeling like he was being scolded by his mother. His wife had died several years prior when the girls were very young. Usually, it was the eldest that stepped up as a motherly figure for the younger children, but that was certainly not the case in his household. Helene was too restless to bother with mothering, so it was the dutiful Cecile that filled those shoes. "I was merely checking on all of you. You know how I worry." He said. Leaving, his youngest's bedside, he followed Cecile back out into the hall.

"I haven't the foggiest idea what you think will happen to us. Are the pillows going to spring to life and try to smother us?" asked Cecile, impatiently batting away a knot of curls that didn't want to stay out of her face.

"You'll understand once you have your own children, Cecile. Everything worries you, even those suspicious pillows." The old man chuckled.

Cecile stopped by the door of her bedroom. Her shoulders slumped and a long breath escaped her lips with a sigh. "Was it the dream again?" She asked. Unlike her other sisters, Cecile was a light sleeper and had long ago noticed her father's frantic screams in the night and his fright-driven vigil. Many a night she had laid in her bed, pretending to be fast asleep while her father pet her hair and leaned over her to be sure she was still breathing.