"WHAT?!" Ierei exclaims. Her parents had just given her the worst possible news. Summer break had just started…and she had to go stay with her uncle- All because her parents had to travel for their work.
Ierei's fingernails dug into her palm and she stared at the matte wood floor. "I can't believe this…" Her voice barely escaped her lips, a quiet growl swallowed by the weight of disappointment. Of course they had to leave- work came first, always. She had planned to spend a lot of time around town with her friends, which was now ruined. But, it wasn't like her plans mattered to them anyway. Her parents owned a small business chain that was expanding overseas. She knew they would be getting busy, as expanding a business was not a part time job, and her parents needed to travel a lot. Her mom glanced at her from the doorway, her fingers lingering on the edge of the frame. "We'll be leaving in a couple days," she said, her voice steady. "Pack your stuff. Your uncle will come to pick you up." Ierei's throat tightened, a protest rising, she wanted to say something, anything. But what would be the point? The words curled uselessly at the edge of her tongue, drowned before they could take form in her mouth. She swallowed them down, her silence settling deeply in her chest. This wasn't the first time that they had gone on a business trip and left her to her uncle, but usually he would stay at the manor, instead of her going to live with him.
_______
Ierei lays on her bed, staring into the ceiling. On her chest was an old picture album, filled with memories that she, her family, and her friends had made. Her desk was cluttered, filled to the brim with the art supplies she hadn't been able to fit with her luggage. Her pens were scattered across the desk, leaving only a small space in the middle where there was usually a sketchbook. Hung up on her walls were many paintings of landscapes that Ierei had hoped she could one day see, the beautiful mountain range of Angerico, or the shining golden plains of Antzona. Ierei herself had enjoyed painting them, but had always felt her paintings lacked the soul, the meaning, of the places themselves.
Ierei turns to look at the large pile of stuffed animals stacked high on the wall side of her bed. Her gaze lingered over the mountain of colorful fabric until it landed on a bunny plush, its edges worn and its fur slightly matted from years of love. She reaches out and plucks it from the pile, holding it close. "Clover," she murmurs, hugging the bunny tightly to her chest. She traced the patch on its ear, a spot she'd stitched back together when she was nine- but the rip? She couldn't remember how it had happened. The thought unsettled her, slipping into the shadows of forgotten things. As her thumb brushed over the stitches, a strange prickling sensation ran up her fingers, fleeting but undeniable, almost as if Clover had acknowledged her touch. Clover had been a gift from her uncle, the first time her parents had left on a long trip. He said it was to keep her company, and over the years, the bunny had become her confidant, a quiet presence when she needed comfort. But there were times where Clover had felt like more than just a confidant, like Clover was watching over her. Like Clover knew things she couldn't. Sighing, she murmurs to herself, "You want to come with me right, Clover?" Ierei presses the bunny's plush face to her cheek, her fingers gripping her tightly, maybe too tightly, as if drawing strength from her. She was familiar, comforting. A whisper of doubt curled at the edge of her mind. Should she still need Clover? The answer came instantly. Of course she did. "It's decided, you'll come with me," she whispers, carrying her downstairs.
Her gaze drifted across the polished tile floor and her luggage was strewn all over the front room of the manor. Her first suitcase was neatly packed, filled with her clothes. The thought of the countryside's sticky heat had made Ierei grimace while picking out her clothes and she had filled the suitcase with lightweight shirts and shorts. Her second suitcase however, had its seams stretched completely taut. Her art supplies were spilling out of it, sketchbooks bending against the pressure, pencils bundled tougher with faded rubber bands, and markers that rattled faintly with every move. Propped up against the wall, her backpack only held the essentials she needed. She nudged it with her foot, and a faint crinkle came from the snacks stuffed inside. Pulling the bag open, she eyed the foil-wrapped edges of her beloved dark chocolate cookies before zipping it up again with a satisfied pat.
_______
The last few days with her friends still clung to her mind, with the fading hum of their karaoke sessions and laughter tangling in the air, even as it slipped into memory. They had sprawled under the open sky in the park, laughter echoing as they teased each other over their off-key singing and shared bites of greasy street food. The sweetness of candied strawberries still clung to her tongue, mingled with the bittersweetness of impending goodbyes.
By now, the manor felt cavernous, the quiet pressing against her skin. The absence of movement, laughter, or anything at all was suffocating. It was too still, almost as if the world had moved on without her. Her parents had slipped out early that morning, their hurried whispers swallowed by the air, the slight click of the door echoing faintly. Ierei stared at the empty front hallway, her chest tightening. She hadn't even gotten the chance to hug them goodbye- or beg them one last time to change their minds. Ierei sat Clover down on the front windowsill facing the front yard and wandered through the quiet first floor. Her eyes landed on a box tucked beneath the low coffee table in the living room. A layer of dust veiled its surface, and when she crouched down, her fingers brushed against the faintly stamped, and barely legible words on its side: "For College." The letters, faded and uneven, seemed strange somehow, like something was amiss. Ierei tilted her head, a soft smile tugging at her lips. She hesitated for a moment, her mind flickering between curiosity and the weight of what lay ahead. But the pull of her room won, and she stood up, brushing her hands against her jeans, before heading back upstairs. There had to be something she'd missed- something worth bringing along for this unexpected trip.
Her eyes darted around her room, searching for something she couldn't quite name. The faint hum cicadas drifted through her open window, filling the space as she wandered over to the far shelf. It stood like a sentry in the corner of her room, crammed with books she had collected over the years. She let her fingers trail along the spines, pausing on the familiar, worn cover of the Grimm's Fairy Tales. A small smile crept onto her face. Her uncle had also given it to her when she was a kid, it was his way of sharing a bit of magic with her. She pulled it free, its weight settling in her palms like an old friend. Flipping it open, she traced the fading ink of the first few pages, perusing through the chapter index of the book. The scent of aged paper washed over her, as her gaze landed on a familiar title. Fitcher's Bird. A memory stirred - the first time she had read it, curled in her uncle's lap, candlelight casting strangely ominous shadows against the walls. She had been too young to understand its full meaning, but even then, something about the story had unsettled her.
She skimmed through the text, pausing at the part where the wizard had demanded his bride to carry an egg. Ierei frowned, shifting uncomfortably on her feet. The tale had always felt off to her, more than just a cautionary story about deceit. The stained egg. The severed bodies. The eerie way the final sister had outwitted the monster, there was something about it, something that refused to fade, as if the pages themselves held a dark power. She closed the book, shaking off the strange unease that prickled at the back of her mind. Uncle…when is he going to arrive?He was supposed to get here like…an hour ago.
_______
Right on cue, the low rumble of an engine drifted into the driveway. Ierei peeked out the window and groaned as an old, beat-up pickup truck, probably from around the 2000's, wheezes to a stop. Rust hugged the edges of its faded blue paint, and the engine coughed once before dying with a reluctant shudder. The driver's door opens, and out steps…her uncle.
Ierei's uncle, Orvyn Malkover, cut an almost regal figure- tall and lean, with sharp cheekbones and an upright posture. But any impression of elegance was swiftly undone by his hair, a wild cascade of thick, unkempt locks that spilled past his shoulders like a lion's mane on a very bad day. Somehow…not a single strand dared to fall over his face, as if even his hair knew better than to obscure his grin, which was so broad it threatened to split his face.
His fashion choice was a war crime against coordination, to say the least. A bright pink blazer clashed violently with his grey tank top, its neckline stretched and fraying, as if it had given up long ago. Baggy purple pants swayed with every step, threatening to trip him as he strode up the driveway unbothered by his own mismatched chaos. Ierei honestly couldn't decide if he looked like a topical bird lost on its way to a costume party, or an eccentric artist.
He waved up at her window, with a broad smile on his face "Ierei!" he calls out, his voice booming across the driveway, almost like thunder crashing through the quiet. The cicada's stuttered, just for a breath, before resuming their hum, as if startled for a moment. "I hope you're ready for the adventure we're about to have!" Ierei sighed, raising a hand in a half-hearted wave before trudging downstairs. By the time she opened the front door, he was already standing there, his hands on his hips like a conquering hero. "Adventure?" she echoed, raising an eyebrow. "Last I checked, sitting in a beat-up truck wasn't exactly the stuff of legends."
Orvyn barked a laugh, clapping a hand to his chest as though she'd just paid him the highest compliment. "Ah, that's the spirit! Legends have to start somewhere, don't they?" Orvyn leans against his truck as she walks over, crossing his arms. "You ready?" He tilted his head, his gaze flickering briefly to Clover in her arms. His grin remained, but there was something in his expression, unreadable.