Mythshaper

For the sheer enormity of the mansion, there were barely any people who seemed to live in it. Ignoring my two aunts, who evidently did not live here on a regular basis, there was only Grandmother, Great-grandmother, and Great-uncle Varyn, whom I was yet to meet. There weren't even many servants—only one housekeeper, a cook, and a gardener.

After freeing myself from Grandmother, Rosalyn led me to meet the other two family members. The grand-uncle's quarters were the only portion of the mansion I would say was mismanaged. It seemed to be a large all-purpose room, with dozens of empty or half-filled canvases, essentials scattered all around, as well as piles of books stacked on both sides of the bed. Ignoring the mess, there was certainly a character to his dwelling, filled with the tinted ardour of oil paints.

"Uncle Varyn gets really mad if anyone touches his stuff, much less cleans it," my aunt explained. "Says it gets between his artistic endeavour."

I could get behind that, remembering how many times I failed to find my things once Mum tidied my room. But there was a huge gulf between my untidy room and this.

"At this hour, he's likely in the library." She yanked me into the adjacent hallway and flew us down a sprawling staircase to reach it.

I imagined them to have a library of some sort, but when we got there, its sheer magnitude went beyond anything I was hoping for. Calling it an archive would not be an overstatement. I imagined a study hall with a dozen shelves full of books, but here was an open, three-storeyed circular structure, all sides stacked with thousands upon thousands of tomes. A couple of tall hardwood ladders were lodged on both sides for ease of ascension.

I made a quick mental math, counting the number of books... If each shelf could hold about five thousand hard copies, and there were over a hundred shelves altogether, there were easily over six hundred thousand books. I knew the Grand Athenaeum at Nayanda was larger, but there were only a few other national libraries that could compare to what we had here.

And in the middle of it rested an easy chair, upon which sat a wizened old man.

"Little Ro," the man said without lifting his head from the book. "You aren't one to bother an old man at such an hour. So what is it now? How did you anger your mother this time?"

"Lift your head, and you will see."

The man gingerly left a bookmark between the pages and faced us, and at once his gaze fixed upon me.

"You are..." he said as recognition dawned on his face. "Arilyn, come here, boy. I have been meaning to see you for such a long time."

His chair slid forward, and only then did I notice it was an artificed wheelchair, running on his essence source. I shot a curt glare at Rosalyn for not telling me about Grand Uncle Varyn's condition. Hidden beneath the loose trousers, his left leg was almost entirely built out of wood.

"Heh, don't look down upon this old man," he laughed. "I can walk just fine. This chair is only there to oblige my growing sense of apathy."

As if to demonstrate, he stood up and stumbled his way towards us. After a couple of iffy steps, he strode with a natural posture. At least, that was what it would seem to anyone less perceptive. Both Rose and I were aware of the little kinetic force he was channelling to make it easier for himself.

While having essence did make living easier, Grand Uncle Varyn seemed to be only at Noble class, his source of essence was hardly any stronger than mine. Something disastrous must have occurred in the past for him to remain in such a state.

"Alas! Years of idle sitting have ruined my good leg, too, it seems." He did not seem too aggravated by it.

As Rose brought his chair and helped him sit, Grand Uncle Varyn clasped my palm firmly. He pulled me down to his level and brushed his hand over my cheeks.

"I've been meaning to see you since I learned of your birth. But this damn leg of mine does not help at all. Did Ashlyn come with you? Where is she?"

"No, Mum," I mumbled, unsure what else to say. "She's not here."

"No matter." He slapped me on the shoulder. "It's good that you are here. Come on, sit. We have so much to talk about."

And the questions began. At least, all his inquiries were limited to me and my interests. His excitement only rose when he learned that I draw too.

My grand-uncle seemed to be a very simple man at heart. He was an artist and rather disconnected from the world outside the house. Besides being a fine painter, he was also an acclaimed writer, sculptor, historian, and philosopher—though I was unsure if he liked being called the latter. Either way, Varyn Amadeus had sufficient accolades in fine arts to earn an honour or two, all without ever considering selling his art.

"I would have certainly sold some," he laughed, "if it were a matter of survival. I'm fortunate to be born into a house that never lacked riches. I never had to sell my art to someone who perhaps would never understand it."

I could get behind his sentiment, especially remembering how I had done much the same with the first painting I drew for Iris. Sometimes, your creation becomes so personal and irreplaceable part of you that you do not want to let it go. That was not always the case, as I had found whenever I created something with others in mind.

"Still," I asked, "wouldn't you want others to look at your paintings?"

"Hmm, glory and accolades," he said. "I was after them for a fair part of my youth. But after I had gotten a few and learned how ill-fitted these critiques were, I had given up completely. But I had drawn and written a few pieces for my friends and family. Some of those have become showpieces over the decades. But ignoring all that, most often I create for myself and myself alone. One day, I may perhaps donate it all to someone who has the eyes for it. Hopefully, that day is nowhere near."

Our exchange revolved around paintings, artistic intent, books, and history for what felt like a breeze, though it was easily over an hour. In its entirety, it felt as though I were interviewing him, as there did not seem to be any topic I knew more about than Grand Uncle Varyn. Still, he never demeaned me for my ignorance—only enlightened. It would not be wrong to say it was the first time I was truly lost in a conversation.

Our discourse was broken only when Aunt Emi came to join us. I hugged her without her even asking.

"I haven't seen you for a little over a year, and you are already taller than I," she said, tousling my hair. "Gosh, give it another year, and you'll make all the girls mad."

If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

That only happens in stories, but I did not bother correcting her.

"Look at the clock," Uncle Varyn said to Aunt Emi. "It's almost bedtime for your Nana. Make sure she gets to meet Ari, or we'll have another fit in the morning."

Aunt Emi led me to the rear of the house while explaining Grand Nana's situation. She was not as crass as Rose.

According to her, Grand Nana had lived so long that her mind was unable to keep up. The power of essence could only delay the cognitive decline for so long, whereas her own essence threads had begun to erode. In a good morning, her reasoning could match that of a great emperor, having led the house and Vasher in troubled times. Unfortunately, those good mornings were as rare as snow in Olympus these days.

Looking at her, however, it did not feel that way at all. She sat in a rocking chair, wrapped in two folded blankets, listening to the soothing, soulful music playing in the background. As we entered, her eyes fluttered open sharply.

"About time," the old woman said. "You brought the young blood home."

Grand Nana looked to be in her twilight years, with a head full of grey hair and a face more wrinkled than a bedsheet, though there was hardly any blemish on her skin. It was a good sign that she already seemed to recognise me, better than what I had been imagining.

She waved, calling me.

"Listen here, little pup," she said, gripping my hand with surprising strength, making it impossible for me to break free. "From now on, you live here. You hear me? You and that little girl will live here. I'm sure your grandma will have no complaints. But if she does, I will let her know who runs the house. I will. I will. . . This feud has gone on for too long. Too long. For what? A few outsiders? Old Hade can eat shit, for all I care. But he is not making my family tear itself apart...."

She kept repeating herself, still clasping my arm hard. It wasn't until Aunt Emi stepped in to console her that she finally let go, still muttering under her breath.

"That could have gone worse," Aunt Emi sighed as she left her chamber. "Many a time, she even fails to recognise me, taking me for the children she lost."

"Is there no healing?"

"She was on a constant infusion of dream and dawn essence. They help retain some clarity, but there's little we can do for all the anguish that eats at her heart. It was not easy seeing your family—your children—die while you live on."

Aunt Emi had been taking care of Nana for about eight years, inheriting the task from Mum. She had to return twice a week from the Academy to ensure Grand Nana took her medicine on time.

Half an hour later, we were all summoned for dinner, save for Grand Nana. From what I saw, it was quite rare for the Amadeus household to dine together. It was likely my presence that united them at the dining table. Everyone's attention remained on me throughout the meal, asking tidbits about my life and how Mother had been lately, until I slipped up a little about the demon incursion and the Blight Lord my parents had faced.

A silence fell over the table as everyone exchanged glances.

"Don't look at me," Rosalyn said quickly. "Big sister never mentioned anything about it."

Aunt Emi shook her head, a heavy breath escaping her lips.

At once, they began hounding me for details. Since it was family, I held nothing back.

"I have heard of this a couple of times in passing," Grandmother said, "but I had not imagined it was my daughter..." Her eyes drifted towards the family painting lodged on the wall to her right. She closed her eyes. "Like father, like daughter."

"Oh," Rosalyn suddenly perked up, remembering something. "Um, I may have forgotten to mention about Big Sister having another kid."

"What?!" All three of them erupted at once.

****

From everything I experienced over the last couple of hours, it seemed Mum grew up in a very cordial family, which only made me question what had transpired before my birth to cause such a feud between her and Grandmother. The question had crossed my mind many times over the years, and I had never received half of an answer.

Unable to restrain myself, I finally asked once I had settled into a bedchamber.

"Aunt Emi, what occurred between Mum and Grandma?"

"I want to know that too," Rose chimed. "Well, I know more than Pumpkin, that's for certain, but there were so many missing pieces. If she really had anything to do with the dea—"

Aunt Emi faltered mid-motion while opening fresh blankets and shot a pointed look at her younger sister. "It's more complicated and political than anything you can imply. It's best you do not make baseless assumptions."

"Then why don't you tell me?" Rose cried. "I have heard a thousand things from a thousand people, and their opinions vary a lot, but they all seem to agree that Big Sister..." Rose's gaze darted to me, and she fell silent.

"I don't know how to explain it, or if I even should," Aunt Emi drew out the sentence and shook her head. "I know for sure that Ash would not like me telling you this, and neither would Mother. And I'm certain both of them are still hiding parts of it from me, even after all these years."

"I always thought it was related to Mum marrying Father," I mumbled, "but Grandma did not seem to give a rat's tail about that..."

"Well, she did have a marriage arranged for Big Sister, no?" Rose said, gauging whether she should continue.

"I don't think Mum liked that very much."

"She did not," Aunt Emi agreed, "but Ash was as perfect a daughter as she was compassionate. She was in a tug-of-war with Mother for several years over their differing views, but in the end, she recognised that, overbearing as her ways might be, if she were ever to lead the house, she had to walk the path Mother carved for us.

"There are seldom any unremarkable individuals born with the Amadeus surname, but even then, Ash rose above all the expectations Mother shoved at her... Unlike me, oh, how I struggled to even meet one."

I tilted my head, unable to believe her last statement.

"Trust me, they were as overbearing as this house may look to an outsider." She chuckled. "That reminds me, the first crack that appeared in thier relationship was because of me."

Her face darkened.

"You see, in my younger days, I was not even half as brilliant as you or either of my sisters. Ash and Rose both took barely seven seasons from their initial training to awaken, whereas you beat them with an easy two-season lead. Can you imagine how long it took me?"

I remained silent for her to answer, but Rosalyn was not as patient.

"A couple of seasons more?" she asked. "You were too enamoured with the theoretical aspects from the beginning, weren't you?"

Aunt Emi shook her head and turned to face the window. "The first time, I failed miserably," she said, looking out at the night sky. "In the Amadeus household, there is an unwritten rule—it is expected of us to awaken on our own, no matter how long it takes. Naturally, I was taught the same from an early age. Unfortunately, my talent was highly lacking compared to anyone else in the family. I floundered for seasons upon seasons, until I finally gambled on a highly restrictive potion, and it almost caused my death."

"No! You did not!" Rose exclaimed, completely dumbstruck.

Aunt Emi gave a sullen smile.

"Why am I hearing this for the first time?"

"Because it was the stupidest mistake I have ever made, and I do not like to publicise my mistakes.

"Anyhow, I was nearly dying, writhing on the floor after failing to control the raging essence in my system, when Ashlyn finally came. She carried me on her back all the way to a healer, while Mother was busy dealing with other adult matters."

That explained why Mum was so against forced awakening.

"Nobody was to blame for this whole debacle but me." Aunt Emi turned to face us. "But I fear Ash blamed Mother for creating an environment where I felt like a failure, despite making steady progress every day." She shook her head and sat between us. "Thereafter, she changed her field of study, following in Father's footsteps instead of what Mother was shaping her to be. In time, she reconciled with Mother and even recognised what she had been preparing her for. Then Father sacrificed himself in a heroic death, and that brought them even closer.

"Unfortunately, as for what happened after that, you will have to ask your mother," Aunt Emi said, rubbing my head. "It wouldn't be right for me to tell you."

It did not answer all my questions, but it did explain why Mum had been so overbearingly careful about my training.

That night, I could not lie still in bed. Perhaps the unfamiliar room and its overly comfortable cushioning played a part, but ultimately, everything I had heard and experienced left me with far too much to think about. I would be a fool not to recognise that almost everyone in the household wanted Mum to return home, including Grandmother. Yet there was still something deeply fractured between them.

Perhaps that was also why Father had so easily sent me here without question. After all, children often become the glue that mends cracked relationships.

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A/N: Concerning the revision, I have not updated all the old chapters. When it's done, I'll make a post about what's new and what's omitted. It's mostly subtle things, fixing the little inconsistencies, improving pacing, adding more foreshadowing, along with heavy revision to the action scene.

The only heavy addtion is a chapter encountering the Halfliving and a soulbound wolf for Eran's father.