ANATOMY OF A GIRL

november 10th, 1808

Location:
Cara'cius, Svet'dmai

Nevaeh developed new routines and habits in the days that followed their move to Cara'cius. She woke, ate breakfast, washed up, and began lessons. It was the same every day, with little variation. Except for perhaps the odd day she went out and bought groceries for her mother. Those were the only days she left the house, and only because she had a hard time saying no to her mother.

She had no interest in the world beyond their door. It seemed a little too dark, a little too far away. When she did leave, it was hurried, and she spoke with no one, for fear of bringing attention to herself. The less people that gave her notice, the less danger she could find herself in. It was fairly easy to find trouble in Cara'cius, she'd discovered. One word, an indecent action, and eyes like death itself were upon them. Eyes that tore flesh from muscle and muscle from bone. They were creation and destruction all at once, and while Nevaeh knew little of Cara'cius and the Witches that called it home, she knew she did not want to be on the receiving end of a Witch's gaze.

Her day began much the same as any other day. She was shaken when she woke, plagued by the terrors of the night, but that had become part of the routine, too. Wake up, get up, pretend she hadn't watched herself die, watched herself stab a man or smother a child until death pulled them from this world.

She sat behind the counter of their new kitchen. Their new house was much nicer than the old one, but still, Nevaeh found no comfort in the plush cushions and ornate walls. It was too decorative, too welcoming, like the flames of a hearth on a winter night. Come closer, they murmur. Closer, closer yet, until the flame leapt at her clothes and bit at her flesh. It was just comforting enough to draw them in, to bring them peace, but pain swiftly followed.

Her new home was nothing but a show. How could monsters inhabit such a beautiful home? How could they?

Today she learnt that magic had limits, that it had a price. Whether it was energy or their soul, it cost everyone something. Her mother spoke of it as if they hadn't experienced paying a price themselves, as if immortality hadn't cost them their souls.

Verena told her to write a summative essay, moving to stand behind the stove to begin their dinner, though it was still early.

From young, Verena had attempted to teach Nevaeh how to cook, but she had no culinary talent. Yet, she was forced to continue, for her father said it was required if she wanted to marry a man on day. Nevaeh still did not know how to cook, nor did she intend to learn, despite her father's constant arguments. The fact that it bothered her father so greatly made it all worth it. Besides, it irked her that Halycon had not insisted that Calantha learn. Calantha need not learn the ghastly art of being a wife, of cooking and cleaning and sewing.

Nevaeh dared not say it aloud, but she liked to think that was because Calantha would not be able to find a man, even if she could cook. It was a horrid thought, but it kept her warm when her sister's icy words pressed down on her.

Halcyon's heavy footsteps disrupted the kitchen's quiet, the creaking of the stairs causing Nevaeh's head to thump. Her father appeared behind her, dressed in shades of russet like any other day, and just like any other day, Nevaeh made no attempt to greet him. She hadn't spoken to him since the night the spell was cast – the night he damned his entire family to a soulless eternity.

She did not raise her head as he walked by her, grabbing his hunting knife and traps from the cupboard in the corner of the kitchen. Nevaeh raised her head quickly and briefly. His shoulders were tense and his jaw locked as he reached for the leather satchel he would use later that day to safeguard his earnings. Every afternoon, he killed the animals in the surrounding forest and sold it to richer families of Cara'cius at the local black market. It was just like her father to make money off the deaths of innocents.