The Thirteenth Sovereign .

Before the first rooster crowed, Nyra was already awake.

The cold bit through the thin blanket draped over her shoulders as she stared at the cracked wooden ceiling above her. For a few precious moments, she remained still, listening to the peaceful silence outside.

It was the only peaceful part of her day.

She slowly sat up from the worn straw mattress laid on the hard floor. Her small room was barely large enough to hold the mattress and a wooden stool with one broken leg. Rain leaked through the roof whenever storms came, and during winter, the cold slipped through every crack in the walls.

Maris had once laughed and called it more than a cursed girl deserved.

Nyra had stopped caring.

Or at least...

That was what she told herself.

She splashed icy water across her face before quietly leaving the room.

The rest of the house remained asleep.

That was normal.

By the time Maris and Lina opened their eyes each morning, breakfast would already be cooking, the water jars would be filled, and the firewood neatly stacked beside the kitchen.

Because that was Nyra's job?.

No.

That was Nyra's life.

She picked up two empty buckets and stepped into the chilly dawn.

The village was beautiful at this hour.

Golden mist drifted over the fields while birds greeted the rising sun with cheerful songs. The world looked so peaceful that anyone seeing it for the first time would believe Ashvale was a place filled with kind people.

Nyra almost laughed at the thought.

"If only they knew..."

The village well stood proudly at the center of Ashvale.

As Nyra lowered the bucket into the water, she noticed two women approaching with woven baskets.

Their conversation stopped the moment they saw her.

One of them frowned.

"The cursed girl."

The other sighed.

"I heard another calf died during the night."

"...How unfortunate."the first says.

They didn't accuse her directly.

They didn't need to.

The implication hung in the air like smoke.

Nyra pulled the heavy bucket from the well, balanced it on her shoulder, and walked away without a word.

She had learned long ago that defending herself only gave people another reason to talk and she choose not to.

By the time she returned home, smoke was already rising from the kitchen chimney.

She hurried to prepare breakfast.

Fresh bread.

Stew.

Warm milk.

The smell filled the cottage.

Her stomach growled.

She ignored it.

Just as she placed the last bowl on the table....

"About time."

Maris entered the room, adjusting her expensive shawl with a look of annoyance.

Behind her came Lina, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

Lina glanced at the table before wrinkling her nose.

"The bread isn't warm enough."

She hadn't even touched it.

Nyra looked at it.

Steam was still rising from the loaf.

"It just came out of the oven."

"Are you calling me a liar?"Lina glared.

"No."

"Then apologize."she commands.

Nyra stared at her stepsister for a long moment.

"...I'm sorry the bread cooled while waiting for you to wake up."she replied sarcastically.

Lina's face darkened.

"Mother!"she shrieked not minding it's early to be shouting.

Maris slammed her palm against the table.

"You dare mock your sister?"the woman barked.

"I answered her."

"You always answer!"Maris shot.

Before Nyra could react, Maris snatched the bowl of stew from the table and poured it onto the floor.

"Since you enjoy talking so much, clean this."

The warm broth spread across the wooden floorboards.

Nyra silently knelt and began wiping it away with a cloth.

Behind her, Lina laughed picking another bowl and spilling it on the floor.

"You missed a spot."

Nyra continued cleaning.

"You missed another one."Lina repeats seemingly proud with herself.

Still...

She kept cleaning.

Breakfast ended soon.

Maris and Lina finished eating leaving the plates on the table for her.

Nyra reached for the small loaf she had quietly set aside for herself.

Maris who was just coming out noticed.

"Who said you could eat?"

Nyra's hand froze.

"There's only one loaf left."

"And?"Maris asks walking towards her.

"You've both eaten."

"So?"Maris smiled coldly.

"Feed it to the chickens."She adds as she leaves leaving no room for arguments.

For the first time that morning, anger flickered across Nyra's face.

The chickens...

Were being given the food she had spent hours preparing.

She wanted to argue.

She wanted to shout.

But Instead...

She carried the bread outside.

One small piece broke off in her hand.

She slipped it into her pocket before anyone noticed.

It would be enough to keep the hunger away for a little while.

The rest she scattered before the chickens.

"They eat better than I do," she muttered under her breath.

A tiny smile tugged at her lips despite everything while staring at the chickens struggling for the bread.

If she couldn't laugh at her own misery...

She wasn't sure how much longer she could survive it.

*

The day stretched on with endless chores.

She washed clothes until her fingers stung.

Chopped firewood until her shoulders ached.

Swept every room in the cottage.

Scrubbed the floors.

Carried water again.

And again.

And again.

As the sun slowly climbed across the sky, Nyra paused outside the cottage to catch her breath.

Across the road as she passed by, children laughed while chasing one another.

One little boy noticed her and waved happily.

Before Nyra could wave back, his mother hurried over and pulled him away.

"I told you not to go near her."

"But she's nice..."

"Hush!"

The woman hurried off without another glance.

Nyra slowly lowered her hand.

She wasn't surprised.

She was just...

Tired.

Not of the work.

Not of the hunger.

Not even of the whispers.

She was tired of being judged for a curse she had never understood.

She looked up at the endless blue sky above Ashvale.

"If I really am cursed..."

Her voice was barely louder than the wind.

"...then why do I still hope tomorrow will be better?"

The breeze carried her question away.

As always...

No one answered.

The silence lingered.

Nyra let out a quiet sigh before lowering her gaze. She had never truly expected an answer. The sky had listened to her questions for years, yet it had never spoken back.

"Talking to yourself again?"

A familiar, gentle voice pulled her from her thoughts.

Nyra turned and smiled faintly.

"Grandma Mira."

The elderly woman approached with a small woven basket resting on her arm. Deep lines marked her weathered face, but her warm smile remained unchanged.

"I was heading back from the bakery," Grandma Mira said. "I thought I'd see if you'd remembered to eat today."

Nyra scratched the back of her neck awkwardly.

"I... forgot."

Grandma Mira raised an eyebrow.

"You forgot?"

Nyra laughed softly.

"Alright... maybe I didn't forget."

"I knew it."

The old woman reached into her basket and carefully wrapped a warm pastry in a clean cloth before placing it into Nyra's hands.

"This one is fresh."

Nyra instinctively tried to hand it back.

"I can't. If Maris finds out—"

"Then don't let Maris find out."

"But—"

"Nyra."

Grandma Mira's voice became unusually firm.

"Kindness isn't something you should apologize for receiving."

For a long moment, Nyra simply stared at the pastry.

It wasn't expensive.

It wasn't fancy.

Yet to someone who often went to bed hungry...

It felt priceless.

"...Thank you."

Grandma Mira reached out and gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind Nyra's ear.

"You've grown so much."

Nyra smiled.

"So have your lectures."

The old woman burst into laughter.

"You still have that sharp tongue."

"If I didn't," Nyra replied with a playful grin, "I'd have gone mad years ago."

The laughter between them lasted only a few moments.

Then Grandma Mira's eyes drifted toward the center of the village.

Her smile slowly faded.

"They're talking again."

Nyra already knew who "they" were.

"The crops?"Nyra asks staring ahead.

Grandma Mira nodded.

"And a few sheep disappeared from the northern hills."

Nyra lowered her eyes.

"They'll blame me."

The old woman didn't answer immediately.

Instead, she placed a gentle hand on Nyra's shoulder.

"I've lived a very long life."

"I've seen droughts."

"I've seen floods."

"I've seen sickness take entire families."

"People fear what they cannot understand."

She sighed.

"And fear always searches for someone to blame."

Nyra forced a smile.

"I know."

"But that doesn't make them right."

For a brief moment, neither of them spoke.

The wind rustled through the trees, carrying the scent of fresh earth across the fields.

Somewhere in the distance, children laughed again.

It was strange.

The same village that could produce such beautiful sounds...

Could also speak such cruel words.

"I should get back," Nyra said quietly.

"If I'm late, Maris will find another reason to scold me."

Grandma Mira nodded reluctantly.

"Promise me one thing."

"What is it?"

"No matter what they say..."

The old woman looked directly into Nyra's eyes.

"...Don't let them decide who you are."

Nyra's smile softened.

"I'll try."

She turned and began the long walk home.

With every step, the cheerful sounds of the village seemed to fade behind her, replaced by the familiar weight waiting beyond the cottage door.

Tomorrow would likely be the same as today.

The same chores.

The same whispers.

The same loneliness.

Even so...

When the sun rose again, Nyra knew she would rise with it.

Because giving up was the one thing this cruel village would never make her do.