All Alone - Clean

18 years ago, a massive war was waged against the 13 kingdoms of Ceraesia—a world full of magic and magic users—by a group of evil magic users known as, The Darkeners.

Their leader goes by the name Dezzerel. Through appearance and action, it has been commonly nicknamed, The Wraith.

Out of the 13 kingdoms, 5 have fallen completely and 3 have been left in disrepair. Now, the kingdom hailed with the greatest military strength—the Aceuir Kingdom—takes on the the Wraith itself, along with many of it's Darkener followers.

"Die!" The Wraith screeches out across the desolate battlefield. It tears through soldier after soldier as they fight to defend themselves.

"Be strong men! Their numbers dwindle!" King Aceuir roars out. His men charge with increased resolve, slaying Darkeners left and right.

"Husband!" The queen comes riding up along side the king. "A large group of Darkeners have surrounded and pinned down a great number of our soldiers to the west! We need to help them!"

The king nods his head and turns his steed immediately. The two of them ride to the west where they confront the large number of Darkeners. They both dismount their steeds and step forward together.

Together, they raise their hands at the enemy and chant, "Sovereign Vortex!" A large swirling Vortex of fire and water clashs against the enemy forces, terminating all of them in an instant.

"My Lord! My Queen! Thank the heavens for your assistance!" One of the soldiers cry out.

"Hurry and rejoin the fight towards the East! We put an end to this senseless battle tonight! The Wraith shall fall!" The king roars.

The king and his men charge to the East, the Wraith in their sights.

"You will die!" The Wraith cries. Then, a large body of black magic engulfs the battlefield. Soldiers cry out left and right as it engulfs them and snuffs out their life.

The king watches in horror as a majority of his men perish before his eyes. "Husband watch out!"

The queen pushes the king out of the way at the last moment. A short blade pierces her stomach in return.

"No!" The king cries out, throwing a flaming punch at the head of the Darkener responsible. Their head splats into pieces and they fall over dead.

The king moves to catch his wife. "Ana, no! Stay with me!" He cries out.

"Husband please," she speaks weakly, "don't let them win. Finish this war. Forget about me."

An eerie cackle rings out across the land as the Wraith draws closer, its men behind it. "Another kingdom's rulers fall tonight! You who hold the greatest military power are weak!" The Wraith wails.

Anger seethes from every fiber of the kings being as he stands, glaring defiantly at the Wraith.

He raises his hand in the air, where magic begins to swirl and gather in masses. "You will pay for this." The king speaks lowly.

A giant ball of fire begins to form in the palm of his hand. It's immense, like looking at a sun.

The chant rings from the kings mouth with great pain and anger. "Massive Imperial Flame!"

The great ball of fire comes down and connects with the large mass of Darkeners, along with the Wraith.

Screams and cries of pain ring out for miles as the flame burns everything to a crisp. Every single one of the remaining Darkeners gets burned alive by the kings fateful attack.

The Wraith squeals in agony as its skin chars. Once the flame dissipates, burnt corpses is all that remains.

One of the corpses crawls weakly though. It's the Wraith. "You... Will... Pay... For... This." It rasps. "I... Will... Have... My... Revenge."

The fire's dying embers flicker against the blood-streaked earth as the Wraith's cursed form twitches its last. Its blackened flesh peels away in the cooling winds.

"Ana!" The king cries out, turning back to his wife. "Stay with me!"

After the battle, the queen and any other injured soldiers are rushed to the kingdom's medical centers where healers work diligently to tend to all of them.

The palace halls are silent save for the echoing footsteps of the king as he strides down them with urgency. Guards snap to attention as he passes, but he doesn't acknowledge them—his entire being is consumed by the fire in his chest.

"Christoph," a voice calls from behind. The king turns sharply, his red gaze flashing with panic as he sees Lady Healer Maria rushing toward him. She wears blood-stained robes, her hands still stained from the battle's aftermath. "Ana-her wound is severe. She's lost much blood."

His breath catches. "Can you save her?"

She presses her lips together, considering. "I'll do everything in my power. But you should come. There's something important that we've discovered."

The king follows Lady Maria through the palace halls, his every step heavy with dread. When he reaches the infirmary, Ana is lying on a bed, surrounded by healers tending to her. The queen's usually vibrant complexion is now pale as death itself, her breathing shallow.

"I'm here," he whispers, reaching for her hand. Ana's fingers are cold, but she manages a weak smile when she feels his touch.

"Don't worry about me," she murmurs, words faint. "You did what you had to do. We won the war."

His jaw tightens. "That doesn't matter if I lose you."

Maria clears her throat beside them. "Christoph, there's... more."

"Speak plainly," he demands, his voice like iron as he keeps his focus on his wife.

Ana smiles even wider. "Didn't Lady Maria tell you already? Maria, you're so suspenseful. Husband... they found out that I'm pregnant." She utters with as much cheer as her weak voice will allow.

The world seems to tilt beneath the King's boots. His grip on Ana's hand tightens almost to the point of breaking, though he forces himself to ease the pressure before he hurts her.

"Pregnant?" The word comes out rough, torn from somewhere deep in his throat.

Maria steps closer, her voice soft but steady. "Yes, sir. We only confirmed it moments before you arrived. She's carrying. Though... given the severity of her wound..."

He doesn't let her finish. He turns his gaze back to Ana, searching her face for some sign that this isn't just another cruel trick the world has played on him today.

"You will do everything you can to save her! She will not die on this night!" The king's voice thunders through the infirmary, his hand squeezing Ana's with desperate strength. She gazes up at him, her blue eyes reflecting a softer light now despite her weakening body.

"Husband," she murmurs, lifting her free hand weakly to touch his cheek. "You mustn't... be so loud." Her fingers tremble slightly against his face, the fragile contact sending fresh agony through his chest.

He scarcely breathes as he watches her. The realization of her condition has struck him so violently it feels like a second wound. His other hand comes up to cover hers, cradling it against his cheek as if she might slip away even now.

"I can't lose you Ana... nor our unborn child. I need you with me." Ana's lips part in a soft, pained smile as she stares up at her husband. "You won't." She promises softly.

8 months later, the sound of a crying child echoes throughout the palace infirmary. The queen lies in her bed, her body weak but stable, her blue eyes glowing with soft relief as she cradles the infant in her arms. The baby, wrapped in swaddling clothes, wails against the strain of its first breaths outside the womb. Its tiny fists clench and release, tiny limbs thrashing with newborn agitation.

King Aceuir stands beside the bed, one hand resting on Ana's shoulder while the other reaches down to stroke the tiny cheek of his child. A fierce pride burns behind his crimson gaze.

"She's beautiful," He whispers, his voice rough with emotion. Around them, healers and nobles alike look on with quiet reverence. The newborn's cries reverberate through the stone chambers.

Ana glances up at her husband, her face glowing with maternal love. "We'll name her Robin," she says softly, her words still weak from the ordeal but growing stronger by the hour. "To represent the brightness she brings to the world."

The king nods solemnly, his hand never leaving his wife's shoulder. The room fills with quiet murmurs of agreement, though the king remains silent, his attention fixed on his daughter. Robin squirms in Ana's arms, tiny fingers curling instinctively against the soft fabric of her swaddling. Her cries have settled into softer whimpers now, as if even in this tiny body she instinctively knows she is surrounded by love and strength.

5 years later, Robin celebrates her 5th birthday. As the palace ballroom glows with warm candlelight, Robin blows out the candles on her small cake, her purple eyes reflecting the dancing flames. The room erupts in cheers and applause from the gathered nobles and servants, their voices echoing off the high ceilings. Robin's parents stand beside her, the king's hand resting protectively on Ana's waist as she leans against him, radiant with joy.

The birthday girl claps her hands excitedly as servants bring out gifts—golden dolls, delicate silk dresses, and books with illustrations of magical creatures. But Robin's eyes linger on the sugar cookies shaped like tiny castles, their candy decorations sparkling like jewels.

A wide grin spreads across Robin's face as she moves toward the cookies, her fingers brushing over the intricate icing. Her mother kneels beside her, "Which one do you want first, little one?" Ana asks, her words as soft as she cradles Robin's cheek.

Robin lights up, eyes sparkling with uncontained joy. "That one! That one!" She points.

Many hours later, the queen sits with her little Robin in her bed. "Did you have a good day today sweetheart?"

Robin's small head bobs up and down against the blankets, though her eyes look heavy, fighting sleep. "Mm-hmm," she murmurs, her voice muffled by the pillow. "It was... fun."

Her mother rests her chin on her daughter's hair, breathing in the scent of sweetness and cookies. The soft hum of the palace beyond their door—guards changing watch, distant servants' laughter—wraps around them like a quiet cocoon. "That's good," she says gently. "I'm glad you enjoyed it."

Robin looks past her mother for a moment, wondering quietly. "Mother? What's a Darkener?"

Ana's body stiffens momentarily, her fingers tightening slightly around the blankets before she forces herself to remain steady. She shifts so that she can look at Robin properly, her gaze searching the innocent curiosity in her daughter's face.

"A Darkener," she says slowly, choosing her words carefully, "is someone who uses magic... but not for good."

Robin scrunches her nose slightly. "Not good magic?"

The queen nods, the flickering candlelight creating shadows on her face as she continues. "Yes. Very bad magic. They hurt people, destroy things... and do terrible things." She touches Robin's hair gently, tucking a strand behind her ear.

The queen holds her hand out in front of her. "This is real magic." Small particles begin to accumulate in her hands, taking the shape of confined flowing water. "Good magic. What magic is supposed to be. Beautiful. A tool and extension of your soul."

Robin watches, wide-eyed, as the water spins and dances in her mother's palm. "That's pretty," she breathes.

Ana smiles warmly. "Yes, it is. But some people-Darkeners-they take magic and twist it. Corrupt it. They don't care about beauty or harmony... only power. Only destruction."

Robin's small fingers twitch as she instinctively tries to reach for the water in her mother's hand. "And... are there a lot of them?"

The queen's smile fades slightly, but she maintains a gentle tone. "No, sweetheart. They're very rare. And they are not allowed in our kingdom. If they ever came here, your father would..."

She chooses her next words carefully. "Your father would protect you and everyone else in the kingdom from them." Robin's small brow furrows as she ponders this information. "Why would they want to hurt people?"

Ana sighs, letting the water magic dissipate back into particles, scattering off into the air once more before bringing both hands to her daughter's face instead. Her blue gaze shines with quiet sorrow, though she remains firm.

"Because they don't understand what it means to love something. They don't care about the world or the people in it." She leans down to press a kiss against Robin's forehead.

"Darkeners think they are above everything—they want to rule, to control. But your father and I will always protect you. No one will ever be able to hurt you while we're around dear."

Robin's arms wrap around her mother's neck, holding her tight. The queen returns the embrace, pressing Robin against her chest. The child's fingers twist in her mother's hair, the picture of pure innocence. Ana closes her eyes, savoring the moment-savoring the safety, the love, the simple joy of holding her daughter.

"Now tell me, where in the world did you hear the word Darkener mentioned?" Robin pulls her head back just enough to look at her mother.

"From one of the guests at my party earlier. They were whispering loudly and they looked a little scared when they talked about it, so I got curious."

Ana's features darken momentarily, though she keeps her expression gentle for Robin. "Ah. I see." She moves back slightly, still cradling her daughter in her arms. "Those nobles should know better than to fill a child's head with such talk." She exhales through her nose, smoothing Robin's hair with one hand. "Maybe I need to remind our guests to watch their tongues around you. You seem to have a keen ear."

Robin shifts, pulling slightly at the blankets beneath her. "I'm sleepy..." The little girl mumbles, rubbing her eyes gently.

Ana smiles, brushing a hand down her daughter's cheek. "Then sleep, my love." She leans down to kiss Robin's forehead again. The child's eyelids flutter closed almost instantly as she shifts into a more comfortable position against her mother. Ana gathers her close, resting her chin against Robin's head as she gazes out the window at the moonlit sky beyond.

Sleepy little breaths come from her daughter now, her small body heavy with exhaustion. Ana watches her for a long moment, her heart swelling with immense joy and care. She carefully moves her arms beneath Robin, lifting the child and turning to lay her gently in the bed.

Carefully, she pulls the covers over her daughter and gives her one more parting kiss on the head before turning towards the door.

The queen's footsteps echo softly through the silent hallway as she makes her way toward the throne room. Her mind churns with worry—not just over what Robin might have overheard, but also the troubling reports coming from the outer territories.

When she reaches the throne room, the king sits hunched over documents, his normally steady hands shaking slightly. Several of his trusted advisors stand around him, their faces grim. One holds a blood-stained piece of parchment, while another clutches a cracked magical amulet.

"Husband," she calls softly as she enters the chamber, approaching the throne where her husband sits.

King Aceuir raises his gaze from the documents, his crimson eyes reflecting something dark in their depths. "Ana." His voice carries a heaviness that makes her heart clench with dread.

"Christoph, what's wrong?" She asks with a slight sense of urgency.

In Robin's room, the small child sleeps peacefully, completely unaware of the troubles her parents have to deal with.

"𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝," a voice calls out from nowhere and also everywhere. "𝐀𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝."

The voice fills the room like a low, vibrating chord-not coming from within the walls or outside the windows. It moves through the space itself, surrounding Robin's slumbering form like an invisible fog. She stirs slightly beneath her blankets, her small brow furrowing as she remains half-conscious.

"𝐀𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐧, 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝." The voice lulls like an ancient melody, tugging at something deep within Robin's young mind. Her small fingers twitch against the sheets, her breath coming faster now as she jolts awake.

The little girl sits up in bed, her purple eyes wide and unseeing as they stare at nothing in the dark. "Hello?" She asks into the darkness, her voice betraying innocence. "Is someone there?"

The voice doesn't answer immediately, but it doesn't leave either. Robin's small body trembles slightly beneath the covers as she remains awake, staring into the deep shadows where the moonlight fails to reach. The silence that follows is thick, weighted—yet not entirely empty. It's as if the room has become aware of something beyond itself.

Then, finally, the voice returns. "𝐘𝐞𝐬, 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝. 𝐈 𝐚𝐦 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞." The voice remains thick with ancient echoes, curling around Robin's mind like invisible fingers. She clutches the blankets tighter, her small chest rising and falling rapidly as she grips the fabric. Sweat beads along her forehead, though no logical chill should exist in the room.

"W-Who are you? Where are you?" Robin speaks with a quivering tremor, her voice barely above a whisper. She angles her face toward the shadowy corners where the voice seems to dwell.

Another long pause occurs, causing Robin to curl even farther into herself as fear begins to take over her body. "M-Mom... Help..."

The voice comes from behind her this time. "𝐃𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐫."

Robin stiffens, her small body suddenly rigid as she turns to look over her shoulder. Though when she looks, there's nothing there.

"𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲. 𝐃𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭?" Robin's child brain fails to comprehend the possible malice in such nice words. Her face visibly relaxes. "You think I'm pretty?"

"𝐘𝐞𝐬, 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲." The voice flows from all around her now, as if the very walls whisper.

Robin's face curls into a cute smile now. "Aww, thank you. You're very nice." Robin continues smiling into the darkness, eyes shifting around the room, still trying to find the source of the voice.

"Umm... Who are you though?" This time, it goes eerily quiet. Not a sound but Robin's quiet breathing. Her eyes continue searching the darkness.

Then suddenly, a loud, blood curdling scream rings throughout the room.

The sound pierces Robin's skull like a blade. Her hands fly to her ears, fingers digging into the sides of her head as the scream continues—long, wavering, and utterly inhuman. It bounces off the stone walls, filling every corner of the room until there's nowhere for her to hide from it.

Robin screams back, her own voice thin and terrified. "Stop! Stop it!"

The scream stops as suddenly as it began.

Silence settles over the room again, but it feels heavier now. The air feels thick, as if something unseen is pressing down on her chest. Robin's heart hammers against her ribs so hard she can feel it in her throat.

When she opens her eyes, she sees the dangling legs of a floating humanoid creature floating above her bed.

The creature's form shifts and undulates in the dim moonlight, its body an amorphous mass of shadows and shifting tendrils. Its face is a nightmare of twisted features—glowing yellow eyes that seem to leer at Robin with ancient hunger, a mouth too wide for its elongated head, rows of needle-like teeth that glint when it smiles. The creature's voice, now a hoarse whisper, seeps into Robin's mind. "𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞."

Robin stares, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps. She presses herself against the headboard of her bed, the wooden posts digging into her back as she tries to shrink away from the hovering abomination.

The creature's laughter fills the room, an unsettling chuckle that seems to echo from every corner like poisoned smoke. Robin's small hands tremble against the sheets, her purple eyes wide with an understanding beyond her years-this is not a nightmare. This thing exists.

Another scream rips out of the creature as it dives for Robin, grabbing and lifting her in the air by her throat.

Robin's breath vanishes, choked off instantly by the crushing grip of the creature's clawed fingers. Her legs kick helplessly as she's lifted off the bed, her small hands grasping at the monstrous wrist, trying and failing to pry them away. The thing's face looms closer, grinning with grotesque amusement as Robin chokes and gurgles, her vision darkening at the edges. She feels an icy sensation of numbness spreading through her limbs-not exhaustion, not terror, but something worse.

Dezzerel.

The name echoes in Robin's mind, though she does not speak it aloud. The creature tightens its grip further, its inhuman eyes burning into hers.

Those eyes are the last things she sees until everything fades to black. Her body slumps lifeless in the creature's grasp, dangling like a puppet with cut strings. The being tilts its head, yellow eyes glowing brighter as it holds the unconscious child before it. Tendrils of darkness coil around Robin's form, seeping into her skin like ink spreading through water.

The bed beneath her creaks as Robin's limp body is set back down. The Wraith is gone. Vanished as if it was never there.

The next morning, Robin wakes explosively, body sitting up with panicked desperation. She gasps for air as if she was just drowning.

She quickly backs against the headboard, eyes scanning over the entire room frantically, now lit up by the light of the morning sun.

Robin's chest heaves as she remembers the terror of the night before. There's no sign of the monster from last night.

She feels around her throat where she remembers being chocked. No pain. Did she actually dream all of that? It felt so real.

She stays pressed against the headboard, her small body rigid as she stares at the space where the creature had been. Her throat still feels tight, even if there's no visible mark to prove anything happened. Her breath comes fast, uneven. Her fingers press against her neck where the monster had held her, the ghost of its touch still pressing down on her skin.

Then she looks over at the clock on her nightstand. Today's her first day of school and it's almost time to leave.

She gasps in excitement, seemingly forgetting about the whole ordeal that potentially did or didn't transpire last night.

Robin jumps from her bed with eagerness, smoothing out the wrinkles of her nightgown as she glances at the polished mirror hanging on her wall. She watches herself for a moment-her violet eyes bright with joy over the prospect of new experiences. She doesn't linger on the possible bruises forming around her throat.

Robin hums a little tune to herself as she changes into her uniform—a navy blue dress with golden embroidery along the bodice and hem.

"Almost there," she whispers, fastening the small golden clasp at her collar. Her reflection stares back, and for a fleeting instant, she thinks she sees something else looking out from those eyes—something pale and dark. She blinks, and it's gone.

She quickly brushes it aside and exits her room. The morning sun spills golden light through the palace corridors as Robin skips toward the main hall. Her new school shoes clap against the polished stone floors with every eager step, and the flutter of her dress creates a soft rustling sound that echoes around her. She hums to herself, still caught up in the excitement of starting her first day.

As she rounds a corner, she collides with someone much larger than her. It's a guard.

"Oh! Sorry!" She says immediately, rubbing a spot on her head where it had hit him.

The guard doesn't say anything. In fact, he almost looks frightened. His hands shake and swallows hard as he bows slightly at the young princess.

Robin, being as young as she is, remains oblivious to his odd reaction and keeps on skipping along.

Her small hands clutch at the fabric of her dress as she turns another corner, almost bouncing in place as she anticipates the day ahead.

Another servant turns the bend, carrying a stack of folded linens. At the sight of Robin, the woman nearly stumbles. Her hands jerk spasmodically, sending the sheets fluttering to the ground in an unceremonious heap. She stares at Robin with eyes wide, her breathing ragged as if she'd seen something terrifying.

"Good morning, your majesty!" She says a bit too quickly. Robin halts mid-step, her joy momentarily dulled by the servant's accident. "Good morning, miss. Let me help you." Robin reaches to grab some of the fallen items.

The servant recoils as Robin moves to pick up the sheets, hastily stammering, "N-no, it's my job! You just be on your way your highness."

Robin's small hand hesitates mid-reach, a faint crease forming between her brows at the servant's frantic reaction. "Are you sure?" she asks, her words a soft murmur of politeness.

The woman nods frantically, her fingers clutching the sheets so tightly they turn white. "Y-yes, of course! Just please be on your way now." Her eyes flick to Robin's face, then away again, unable to hold the princess's gaze for long. As Robin moves to continue on her way, the woman practically falls over herself getting out of the princess's path, nearly pressing her back against the wall.

Robin's left feeling a bit confused at this interaction, but nonetheless, she continues her cheerful stride.

The palace hallways are filled with the quiet, hurried footsteps of servants and the distant hum of morning preparations, yet Robin's presence creates an unnatural stillness wherever she passes. She rounds another corner and enters the grand hall where a long table laden with breakfast foods stretches before her. At one end sits Queen Ana, her blue eyes bright with concern as they take in her daughter's approach.

"Robin," Ana calls softly, rising from her seat. Her words carry a carefully measured calmness, though tension lines her face. The king is already at the front gates, overseeing the morning guard rotation.

Robin beams at the sight of her mother and dashes toward her. "Good morning, mother!"

The queen reaches down to embrace her daughter, but freezes mid-gesture. She hesitates, visibly conflicted for a brief moment before enveloping Robin in a tight hug. Robin notices nothing amiss as she returns the embrace, her small arms circling her mother's waist.

As Ana pulls back slightly, she scrutinizes her daughter's face-searching, examining, almost as if looking for something beneath the surface of Robin's expression.

For just a brief moment, a flash of black darkness consumes Robin's eyes. Ana gasps audibly at the sight, pushing her daughter away slightly.

Ana's heart hammers against her ribs. The blackness fades as quickly as it came, leaving Robin's violet eyes clear and innocent once more, blinking up at her mother with unassuming curiosity.

"Mother?" Robin asks, tilting her head. "Did I do something wrong?"

Ana exhales slowly, trying to steady her voice. "No, darling. Not at all." She forces a smile, though her fingers tighten slightly on Robin's shoulders. "Sit down and eat now. We need to be leaving soon. I'll be accompanying you since it's your first day of school."

Robin nods enthusiastically and climbs into her chair at the table. She grabs a small golden cup of juice and begins sipping it with care. Ana remains standing for a moment longer, watching her daughter intently. She notices nothing outwardly wrong-Robin is just Robin, the same precious child she's known for years.

Ana inhales sharply through her nose, straightening her posture as she reclaims her seat.

Ana's fingers brush the rim of her own cup as she watches Robin take another sip of juice, her movements delicate and childlike. The queen forces herself to look away, her mind racing as she sips her morning tea. Her hands remain steady despite the turmoil inside her.

"M-Mother?" Robin says abruptly, voice tinged with worry, "Why are you crying?"

Ana's blue gaze snaps to Robin with a start, her hand fluttering to her face. She hadn't realized her eyes had welled with tears. The queen's face flushes with color, but she forces a gentle smile.

"Oh, darling, I... I was just thinking about how quickly you're growing up. Already going off to school. Soon you'll be as big as mommy is." Ana says softly, though her voice cracks slightly on the words. She quickly reaches for a napkin, dabbing at the corner of her eye.

Robin looks at her mother with wide eyes, but the anxiety on her face eases at this explanation. "I can't wait to grow up!" Robin says cheerfully. "I'm going to be big and smart and I'm gonna learn really beautiful magic, just like you showed me!"

Ana's smile is warm, but fragile. She reaches across the table and strokes Robin's cheek with the backs of her fingers, "Yes, you will, my love. You'll be extraordinary." Ana speaks with genuine pride, though her eyes remain slightly damp.

Robin giggles at the touch, turning to nuzzle into the affectionate hand for a moment before sitting back properly.

After Robin finishes eating, her mother leads her out of the palace where a luxurious carriage waits for them.

A line of guards immediately snap to attention as the two approach, bowing low as the queen and her daughter step down the marble steps leading to the carriage. Ana climbs in first, arranging herself on the plush seat before reaching down to help Robin. She settles beside Robin, watching as the footmen close the carriage doors.

The moment they begin moving, the quiet of the palace gives way to the lively hum of the city beyond its gates. The roads are already bustling, carts clattering over cobblestones, merchants calling out their wares, and the chatter of pedestrians filling the air.

Robin looks up at her mother often, an uncontrollable joyous energy causing her legs to kick the air casually.

The queen looks lost and elsewhere though, a troublesome expression plastered on her face.

Robin chirps happily, watching the scenery go by as she peeks through the gaps between the carriage curtains.

"Mother, look!" Robin points to a flower seller arranging petals in neat little bouquets. "They're so pretty!" Robin speaks eagerly.

Ana blinks, as if drawn back from distant thoughts. She follows Robin's pointing finger and lets out a small, soft chuckle.

It doesn't take but 10 minutes to finally arrive at the school. It's large, maybe 3 stories tall. The front courtyard is perfectly kept and presented.

The carriage comes to a stop at the grand academy's entrance. The gates are open, flanked by two stone columns carved with ancient runes, and the paved path leading to the school is lined with flawless hedges.

Around them, other nobles and wealthy merchants disembark with their children—all dressed in similar uniforms though slightly less ornate than Robin's own royal attire.

Ana steps down first, her hand hovering near Robin as the child emerges. The queen inhales deeply, her composure carefully balanced between a proud mother's smile and the underlying tension she struggles to conceal.

"Here we are," Ana murmurs, straightening Robin's collar with meticulous care. "This is where you'll be spending a great deal of your childhood, dear."

Robin turns bright eyes up to her mother, excitement flickering like a candle in the wind. "It's so big!" she exclaims, squeezing her mother's fingers with delight.

The queen's smile remains steady as she nods. "Yes, it is." She pauses for a moment, looking as if she's fighting tears. She turns her head away from her daughter, "Go ahead and go inside sweety. Enjoy your first day."

Robin claps her hands together with barely restrained energy. "I will!" she chirps, then takes a bold step toward the school's grand entrance.

The school is as grand inside as out. Huge windows let in sunlight that catches upon floating dust motes, and portraits of long-dead scholars line the hallways like silent sentinels. The floors are polished to a reflective sheen, and wrought iron sconces hold flickering magical flames instead of torches.

The interior buzzes with chatter as children of various ages move between classrooms, their uniforms crisp and identical, each sharing that same navy blue school color. Robin follows the crowd, her small footsteps blending with the greater flow of students.

As she moves through the hallway, the murmurs of other students reach her. Snippets of conversation about new classes, upcoming experiences, expectations of the school year.

Finally, a student notices her, a boy around her age. He runs up to her with a joyous smile on his face. "Hi there! What's your name?" He asks cheerfully, stretching out his hands towards her.

Robin's gaze brightens as she faces the boy, his eagerness matching her own. "Hi! I'm Robin!"

As her excitement grows, a sort of dark, ominous aura seems to leak from her. Not visible, but can be felt, like a physical weight.

The boy flinches. His face changes, eyes darting away before he forces a tight, uneasy smile. "R-Right. Robin." He stumbles back half a step, as if pulling away from the unnatural chill radiating from her. His hands drop to his sides, gripping his sleeves nervously.

Robin notices the discomfort in his posture, but doesn't fully understand it. "Is something wrong?" she asks, her face showing only confusion and hurt. She takes a step forward.

"No!" the boy yells harshly. "Stay away from me!" He retreats a couple of steps, then turns around and breaks into a sprint.

The hallway falls silent as other students nearby notice the interaction. Their heads turn toward Robin, eyes narrowing. Every single one of them shares a similar expression. Fear.

Their fear saturates the air, thick as smoke. Robin feels the weight of all those gazes pressing upon her, their expressions unmistakable. Some children whisper behind their hands. Others move away from her deliberately, steering clear of the corridor she stands in.

The boy who ran is already gone around the corner. A few paces ahead, a cluster of older students exchanges knowing looks, their faces tight with something more than simple unease. They speak in hushed tones, hands gesturing subtly in her direction.

Robin's hands tremble at her sides, fingers curling into the fabric of her dress. "Why..." she starts, voice small and shaky. Her purple eyes dart from one face to another, searching for someone, anyone, willing to meet her gaze. None do. They look at her as if she's something broken, something to be avoided.

Robin continues walking down the hallway, her small feet making soft, hesitant steps on the polished floor. The other students part before her like a river around a rock, their bodies angled away, their faces turned down or to the side. Some press themselves against the walls, creating a human corridor of carefully maintained distance.

Her mind races. Why? Why are they all starting at her like that? What did she do?

Robin's throat tightens as she moves down the hallway. She counts each step, forcing herself to keep walking even as tears prickle at the corners of her eyes.

The silence that follows her is absolute, save for the occasional rustle of fabric as students shift their positions to ensure she doesn't brush against them.

Just get to the classroom, she thinks to herself, surely the teachers will know what's happening and what to do.

She continues on with hurried steps, scanning the number plates beside the classroom doorways. She passes by door after door, frantically searching for her classroom.

At last, she spots the number to her classroom and pauses outside the door. She takes a breath before pushing it open. Inside, the room is already occupied with a scant few other students sitting at neat desks.

The teacher stands at the front of the room, preparing for the first day of classes. Her silver-streaked hair catches the morning light beaming through the window. A smile forms on her face as she notices Robin enter.

Robin hesitates in the doorway, clutching her skirt with both hands. The teacher, a woman with kind eyes and hair streaked through with silver, steps forward and gestures warmly.

"Ah, you must be Princess Robin," she says, her voice soft but carrying confidence. "Welcome to your first year in school. Come in, dear, this will be your homeroom class."

Robin blinks at the invitation, something in her chest easing slightly at the open greeting.

This ease is short lived though. As she steps forward, the look on her teacher's face changes.

The teacher freezes mid-step, her kind smile faltering. Her arms drop to her sides, fingers twitching uncertainly as she inhales through her nose. The room behind Robin grows still, every other student locking gazes on her, their faces transforming to reveal the same wary distaste as those in the hallway.

Robin turns just slightly, eyes sweeping over the seated students. Some lower their heads entirely, while others cast quick glances toward the teacher, silently waiting for her reaction.

The instructor swallows, her throat working visibly before she clears it and forces a small, professional smile. "R-Robin, please take a seat." she says, stepping aside to let her pass.

Robin moves carefully toward the closest empty desk, each footfall silent in the tense atmosphere. As she approaches, the girl sitting beside that particular desk immediately scoots her chair back, creating a wider gap between them. Her eyes dart nervously from Robin to the teacher, lips pressed tight.

Robin settles into the seat slowly, hands resting on the desktop. She tries to keep her gaze forward, but feels the collective awareness of every student pressing against her from all sides. Their breathing has become shallow and quiet, as if they're afraid even their exhalations might draw her attention.

The teacher moves to the front of the class, her hands gripping the lectern with white knuckles. "A-Alright children, class is about to start soon. It's nice to meet all of you."

As she talks, the other students look at her with pleading eyes, a silent beg to remove Robin from the classroom.

Robin stares at the teacher's lips moving as she introduces the school and its rules. But the words swim past her like mist in the wind. The silence surrounding her is almost suffocating, the collective breath of students held as they strain to maintain their distance.

'Why? Why is this happening? Why do they all keep looking at me like that? What did I do?' Robin thinks to herself.

The teacher continues lecturing, but Robin hears none of it. She stares down at her desk, fingers curling around the wooden edge. She doesn't dare look up.

Hours drag on like an eternity. Robin simply sits there the entire time, dejected and empty.

The only thing she could do the entire time was repeat that same question over and over in her mind, why?

Finally, the final bell rings, symbolising it's time to go home. The teacher stands at the front of the classroom, posture seeming much more relaxed than it was this morning. "Alright children, I hope you all enjoyed your first day of school! I can't wait to keep teaching you all! Get back home safely and be sure to come back tomorrow ready to have fun!"

All of the students jump up immediately and begin rushing for the exit, some still quiet with nervous resignation, others energetic and seemingly forgetful of Robin's presence.

The princess sits motionless in her seat, fingers curled around the desk ledge, her purple gaze still trained downward. She hasn't spoken since the start of the day, not even to answer questions or acknowledge simple directions.

"Robin, dear?" The teacher asks, approaching cautiously.

Robin lifts her gaze slowly, her fingers uncurling from the desk ledge. She says nothing, simply looking up at the woman with wide, questioning eyes.

The teacher stumbles back at the simple movement, tripping over the desk and falling onto her posterior. Robin's eyes widen at the sight. She jumps up with worry. "Are you ok teacher?" She asks, her worry creeping into her tone.

The teacher scrambles to her feet, wiping dust from her skirt with shaking hands. She forces a smile that trembles at the edges, her gaze darting nervously between Robin's eyes and the classroom doorway where students continue filing out in hushed clusters. "Y-Yes, I'm fine. Just... a little clumsy today."

Robin looks towards the floor. She knows her teacher is lying, It's quite obvious. "It's time to go home now Robin. I hope to see you again tomorrow."

Robin nods wordlessly, shoulders slumping as she turns toward the exit. The teacher exhales audibly, relief evident in the sound. Robin walks out of the classroom with her head down, unwilling to look up and meet the gazes that will surely be waiting for her.

When she steps out of the school and reaches the school entrance gate, she sees a carriage there waiting to take her home.

A royal guard bows low as Robin approaches the carriage, his face carefully neutral, eyes avoiding direct contact. She steps up and into the carriage, sliding onto the plush interior cushions, her uniform feeling suddenly tight and restrictive.

Inside, she curls her legs beneath herself, fingers twisting in the fabric of her skirt. Outside, the sound of hooves and wheels against the cobblestones fills the silence parading in her mind.

Not but a few minutes later, she returns home and enters through the palace doors.

As Robin walks further into the palace, the ominous aura she carries ripples through the air like a physical force, almost as if responding to her emotions.

She holds her head up now, feeling a bit relieved being in a familiar space. A safe space.

She goes between different rooms, searching for her parents. They'll know what's going on. They'll know what to do. They'll help her.

Robin moves through the familiar corridors of the palace, her footsteps soft against the polished stone.

The throne room looms ahead, its tall doors slightly ajar. She pauses outside, listening. There are voices inside—her father's, low and measured; another, thinner, her mother. She pushes the door open without knocking, relief already blooming in her chest.

The king's voice stops mid-sentence as Robin steps into the throne room. He looks up from the scroll he's been reading, and she sees something flicker in his expression-recognition, but also wariness.

Her mother's eyes widen slightly when she sees her. "Mother? Father?" Robin asks, taking a step inside, trying to hold back pent up emotions.

But her heart is quickly shattered as both of her parents turn their head and avoid her gaze, just like everyone else.

Robin blinks rapidly, her lower lip quivering. Tears finally begin to fall from her eyes, all of the days pent up emotions spilling out.

Without further hesitation, Robin turns and runs out of the room. "Robin!" Her mother tries to call for her, but she's already gone.

Robin runs through the palace halls, her small feet pattering against the floors. She scarcely notices the servants who startle in confusion as a frantic little girl runs by. Her vision blurs with tears, a tightness in her chest threatening to suffocate her.

She rounds one more corner and makes her way down a long corridor where she busts through one of the doors into her room.

She shuts and locks the door before running over to her bed and burying her face into the soft mattress, weeping openly.

Robin cries into the sheets, her tiny shoulders shaking as sobs wrack her frame. The tears come in violent bursts, dripping onto the plush fabric beneath her. Her small fingers clutch at the bedding, twisting it into knots.

After what feels like an eternity, she finally lifts her head, wiping at her eyes with the backs of her hands. Her face remains flushed, her purple gaze bloodshot and damp.

"Why?" She asks meekly at first, then again, "Why?" Firmer this time. And again, "Why?" Each time voice growing both louder and uncontrolled. "Why?! Why is everyone looking at me like that?! Why?!" She grabs her pillow harshly and slings it across the room in a fit of frustration.

The pillow collides with her mirror, causing it to spin slightly, angling it towards her.

It takes her a second to comprehend what she sees when she states into it, but her eyes widen with fear once her mind confirms what she sees.

There's something behind her. She turns around in a rush and screams when her eyes meet the black figure. The Wraith.

Robin scrambles off the bed in a hurry, falling to the floor with a hard thud.

The Wraith floats inches above the bed, its hollowed face an inky void that swirls like storm clouds. Its long tendrils extend from its back, reaching toward Robin like thin grasping fingers. Her own gaze flashes black as she stares in horror.

"𝐖𝐡𝐲, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐬𝐤?" Its voice is like static through a broken radio, layered, guttural, the kind that curls under your skin. "𝐒𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞. 𝐁𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐝."

Robin's breath comes in panicked little bursts, her back pressed against the floor as she tries to scramble further away. She shakes her head. "W-What are you talking about? Stay away from me!"

The Wraith drifts forward, tendrils brushing across the space where Robin crouched a moment ago. "𝐈 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐱𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝. 𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐝. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐚 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐫, 𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭. 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐈 𝐚𝐦."

The words coil around Robin like the tendrils themselves, thick with cruel meaning. She whimpers, pressing her back harder against the floor as the thing moves closer, its voice licking through her mind like poisoned honey. "N-no," she breathes, "I didn't give you anything! Go away! Stay away from me!"

Robin closes her eyes tightly, as if willing away the demon in front of her entirely. When she finally reopens them, the Wraith is gone.

The room is eerily silent now, save for Robin's quickened breathing. She remains curled on the floor, arms wrapped around her stomach as if holding herself together. The faint impression of Dezzerel's presence still hangs in the air, an unmistakable wrongness that sets her existence on edge.

She forces herself to stand, legs shaking as she wipes at her tears with the back of her hand. Turning back toward the mirror, she examines it carefully, but sees only her own reflection now-disheveled, frightened, hollowed-out.

"𝐈'𝐦 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝." She suddenly hears, the words ringing from inside her head. She staggers back in response and trips over her bed.

She presses her hands to her temples, squeezing them as if she could physically force the presence out of her mind.

"Leave me alone," she whimpers, "Go away. Leave me alone!" Her frail words become screams.

"𝐈'𝐦 𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝. 𝐈 𝐰𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞. 𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞, 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬, 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐛𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫." The Wraith pauses its words for a moment, "𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝."

Robin slumps against the side of her bed, gripping the frame for dear life. Tears fall from her eyes in a torrent. Why is this happening? Why her? "Someone please help me..." She mutters against her ragged breaths.