Lydia sighed, she knew it was coming again… life kept happening to her in the same exhausting pattern it always had. There was no variation, no pause, no sudden miracle waiting at the edge of her days—just a continuous stretch of endurance that had begun twelve years ago and had never truly stopped. Since the death of her parents, existence had reduced itself to something mechanical: wake, obey, endure, repeat. Living under her uncle's roof had never meant safety; it meant survival measured in silence, in careful steps, in knowing exactly when not to speak. Living here, she had lost all hope of a better life.
The sound of glass shattering against the wall did not startle her as much as it should have she had grown numb to it now. She only closed her eyes briefly, bracing for what always followed.
"You can't even do one thing right!" his voice thundered through the room, thick with irritation and something heavier that clung to his words like a leach. He stood a few feet away, anger settling into his posture like it always did
"What exactly do you contribute here, huh?"
Lydia kept her gaze lowered. Experience had taught her that eye contact only prolonged things. Words did too but not saying anything had the same effect.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly, the sentence worn thin from overuse.
It changed nothing.
His hand came down hard across her face, the force sharp and immediate. She staggered slightly but did not fall, her fingers tightening at her sides as she steadied herself. Pain came but she did not react to it beyond that. Reacting invited escalation too.
"Sorry doesn't fix anything," he snapped, already turning away as if she were no longer worth the effort. "Clean that mess before I come back."
The dismissal was abrupt and careless. It always was.
He returned to the living room, the sound of the television rising again as though the interruption had been insignificant. For him, it was. For Lydia, it was simply another entry in a long, unremarkable list.
She bent down and began picking up the broken pieces.
The bathroom door closed behind her with a soft click, sealing her into the only space that ever felt remotely hers. It was small, plain, and unremarkable, but it offered something the rest of the house did not—privacy.
And in that privacy, she allowed herself to break because she was only human afterall.
The tears came without resistance this time, slipping down her face in quiet, uneven streams. She pressed her hand against her mouth, instinctively suppressing any sound that might travel beyond the thin walls. Even here, she did not trust silence to protect her completely.
Crying was not new. It had simply become part of the routine, like everything else.
She slid down slowly until she was seated on the cold tiled floor, her back resting against the bathtub. The mirror above the sink reflected a version of her she had grown used to avoiding—tired eyes, faint bruising, a stillness that did not belong to someone her age.
Time passed without announcement.
At some point, the house grew quieter.
At some point, the weight in her chest became dull.
And then, a soft notification sound broke through the stillness.
Lydia blinked, her movements slow as she reached for her phone resting on the edge of the sink. The screen lit up, casting a pale glow against her face.
She read the message.
Then let out a small, dry laugh.
"Happy 18th birthday to me."
It was her own reminder.
She had set it years ago because she had a habit of forgetting. Birthdays had long stopped carrying meaning, and remembering them had begun to feel unnecessary. Still, she had left the reminder active—as if some part of her had refused to let the day disappear entirely.
"…Right," she murmured under her breath.
Her voice sounded distant, even to herself.
After a brief hesitation, she drew in a shaky breath and, in a tone barely above a whisper, sang.
"Happy birthday to you…"
The words were uneven, breaking slightly between breaths, but she finished them anyway. No one responded, not like there was anyone to do.
She leaned her head back against the edge of the bathtub, exhaustion settling over her like a quiet, familiar weight. The tears slowed, then stopped. Her grip on the phone loosened, and her eyes gradually fell shut... escaping into her sleep.
Morning arrived with an unusual gentleness...it was quiet today, it rarely was..
Sunlight filtered through the small bathroom window, soft and warm, stretching across the tiled floor in quiet contrast to the night before. Lydia stirred slowly, her body stiff from the awkward position she had fallen asleep in.
For a moment, she remained still, adjusting to the quiet.
It was different.
No television.
No footsteps.
No voice calling her name with irritation already laced into it.
She frowned slightly, pushing herself up and brushing her long black hair back from her face. The silence felt unfamiliar enough to be unsettling.
When she opened the bathroom door, the hallway greeted her with the same stillness.
"…Uncle?" she called, her voice tentative.
No response followed.
She stepped forward—and then stopped.
Something lay on the floor just a short distance ahead.
It had not been there before.
It was a silver envelope.
Its surface caught the light in a way that felt deliberate..it was very unnatural, and at its center was an emblem intricately marked into the material...a skeleton with outstretched wings.
Lydia hesitated before picking it up.
Her name was written across it in precise, elegant lettering.
There was no indication of where it had come from, maybe it was in the mail and fell off when uncle brought the bunch of letters in... she thought as she opened it carefully.
Inside was a single letter, she unfolded it and read
Bale High
Office of Admission
Miss Lydia Vale,
You have been formally offered admission into Bale High, an institution established for individuals of distinguished and uncommon standing. Your acceptance has been recognized, and your presence is required.
Should you choose to attend, a carriage will arrive at your place of residence at exactly 12:00 AM tomorrow night to convey you to the academy grounds. You are advised to prepare accordingly.
Please be informed: disregard of this notice will result in the immediate and irreversible erasure of all memory pertaining to this correspondence and its origin.
This measure is absolute.
We anticipate your decision.
— Administration
Lydia read the letter once, then again, her expression shifting with confusion.
It did not make sense.
None of it did.
Erasing of memories? 12am departures? All was nothing but fables to her and yet, she found herself holding onto every word as though it mattered.
Her gaze drifted slowly around the house—the worn furniture, the lingering disarray, the oppressive familiarity of it all.
Then back to the letter.
The decision formed without resistance.
She would go.
There was no hesitation in it, no need to weigh alternatives. The life she knew had never offered her anything worth holding onto, and the possibility—no matter how strange—was enough.
Anywhere was better than here.
She packed quietly.
There was not much to take, and she did not pretend otherwise. A few clothes, folded neatly into a small bag. A handful of personal items. And, most carefully, a set of photographs she had kept hidden away for years.
Her parents smiled back at her from another time, untouched by everything that had followed.
She lingered for only a moment before placing them safely inside.
By evening, everything was ready.
Time moved differently when it was being waited on.
Each minute stretched, each hour carrying a quiet anticipation that refused to settle. Lydia remained near the window as night deepened, her attention fixed on the empty street outside.
Thankfully her uncles was peaceful today so it was convinent.
When the clock finally struck twelve, she held her breath....Nothing happened.
One minute passed.
Then another.
Then a third.
Doubt began to surface slowly. Perhaps it had been exactly what it seemed—nothing more than an elaborate mistake.
She exhaled quietly, her shoulders lowered slightly as she stepped back from the window.
And then...just at that moment...Movement in the dark!
It appeared without sound, emerging from the darkness as though it had always been there, waiting to be seen.
A carriage.
It was unlike anything she had ever seen before—its was so beautiful, almost ethereal, with designs that seemed to shift subtly under the faint glow surrounding it. The color was not fixed; it moved between silver and soft violet, catching the light in patterns.
At its front stood two horses.
Their coats shimmered in a gentle shade of pink, their forms elegant, their presence strangely calming rather than unnatural. They stood still, composed, as if aware of their purpose as if they posesed minds of their own.
Lydia stared, the earlier doubt dissolving completely.
A small smile found its way onto her face.
The door flung open and She moved quickly after that.
The house remained quiet as she stepped out of her room, her bag held close. Each step was measured and careful, until she reached the door.
She opened it slowly.
The cold night air met her immediately and without allowing herself time to reconsider, she stepped outside.
The carriage door opened ..on its own, She climbed in.
The moment she settled the door shut and it began to move, she startled at the efficiency and wore a grim look of dissaproval, inside the carriage was purple themed and the walls were curtained and bedazzled.
Then out of nowhere...boom! The speed the carriage rode on was immediate, startling in its intensity. The world outside blurred into indistinct motion, buildings dissolving into streaks of shadow and light. Lydia gripped the seat instinctively, her breath catching as the sensation overtook her.
And then, just as suddenly as it had begun—
It stopped.
The shift was abrupt enough to pull her forward slightly, her hand bracing against the seat.
When she looked up, everything had changed.
The city was gone.
In its place stood a forest it was vast, quiet, and impossibly still. The air felt different, heavier, carrying a presence she could not quite define.
She stepped out slowly.
The ground beneath her feet felt real, but everything else carried a sense of distance, as though she had crossed into something that did not entirely belong to her world.
A voice broke the silence.
"You made the right choice."
Lydia turned.
A woman stood a short distance away, her posture relaxed, her presence composed. Her hair was a striking shade of red, and her eyes—just as vivid—rested on Lydia with quiet certainty.
Lydia hesitated briefly before asking, "Where am I?"
The woman's expression softened slightly, though the knowing look in her eyes remained unchanged.
"Somewhere you were always meant to find," she replied.
A pause followed, brief but deliberate.
Then she added,
"Come."
And without waiting, she turned and began walking deeper into the forest.
This was really all crazy.. why would she follow a mysterious person? But she came this far anyway so after a moment's hesitation, Lydia followed.
Whatever lay ahead—
She had already left everything else behind.