Ghost and the Writer

Caged bird

Fraise le Polino was living her life like a caged bird.

She had long wavy strawberry blonde hair, pastel pink eyes, and six pairs of white wings stretching out from her back. There was a layer upon layer of illusion cast over the windows: only like that she could be free to bask under the pale daylight, even if the chance of anyone happening upon this castle tower was low.

She was the wife of a minister in charge of matters related to another dimension - Urea. While usually wives of men of such status would live in the capital and have rich social lives, Fraise could do neither.

It was not because her husband objected, quite the opposite, it was because she had caged herself in this tower. She had become something or someone that shouldn't even exist, and that was fully and completely her own fault. Her lies and ambition had ended up caging her up so tightly she couldn't stretch her wings and fly anymore.

At every step of her journey, there had been glaring warning signs, but she ignored them all:

First came when she was eight, still had a single pair of wings, and had won a fight against a boy in her class. It had been about something silly, she didn't even recall what, but the result was her holding him down to the ground until he apologized.

A teacher had swept in then. In fright, all the kids, her and the now smeared boy as well, got up and tried to pretend nothing had been going on, straightening out their wings. None of their group were the type to rat one another out - kids had their kids' rules, and adults had no business in that.

But they did have business with that.

The teacher had given Fraise the first hint by completely ignoring her and shouting at the boy only - how dare he stoop so low as to pick a fight with a girl.

Fraise had spoken up then, that it wasn't just the boy's fault. She had won the fight as well, so it also baffled her why she would be overlooked when, in all other times, she saw this happen - in none had the losing side be the one shouted at by this very same teacher.

The teacher didn't shout at her, but he did cast a condescending look down on her.

"This will be neither the first nor the last time young Herman will encounter a disgraceful woman. Hopefully, next time, he will do what a man should and overlook her follies, or if it gets too out of hand, lets the woman's father or husband know."

That was the first and most crucial lesson Fraise ignored - In Solus, a woman was nothing more than the property of her father or husband. It was nothing short of barbaric to harm another's property. She was at fault for ignoring her status.

Herman was at fault for treating her like an equal.

She wasn't his equal.

Her second pair of wings had already started to sprout, and that meant she was superior not only to him but her parents as well.

Had she been a boy, it would have been a celebration - the second pair of wings growing at the age of eight meant that the child was exceptionally gifted. The child could then leave the basic school of the lowest caste and enter a military academy, thus ascend to the warrior's caste and bring both honor and glory to their ancestors.

But as a girl with a second pair of wings, she only became a more expensive pet, and her father would have no choice but to strain their family budget to send her to a higher class academy for girls.

Even if her new school focused on etiquette, literature, arts, and dance, it did have a sound library where her young and curious mind could wander and pick up philosophy, politics, tactics, as well as study up autobiographies of successful soleans and how they led their lives.