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The sunlight poured in like an uninvited guest—gentle at first, then relentlessly persistent. Birds chirped outside like something out of a picture book. The breeze drifting in from the half-open balcony door carried the scent of roses and morning dew.
I buried my face deeper into the silk pillow and groaned.
"Milady," came a sweet, singsong voice. "The sun is high. It is time for breakfast. The Duke and the rest of the family await your presence in the dining hall."
I knew that voice. Too cheerful. Too patient. Too persistent.
Cracking one eye open, I saw a petite woman in a navy-blue maid uniform, her hair tied back neatly, wearing her usual serene smile.
"Elena," I mumbled, voice muffled. "Tell them I'll eat later."
"I anticipated as much." She didn't even look mildly surprised, placing the tray on the table with practiced grace before quietly stepping out.
I melted into the blankets, momentarily triumphant. Peace returned. The birds kept singing. My pillow was still cool on one side. All was right in the world.
Until—
"Wake up. Are you planning to sleep through life?"
I sat up at once.
I knew that voice.
Apparently, Elena had delivered my message—or at least the gist of it. And I am also an idiot for believing my father would listen to me.
The Duke of House Valette—my father—stood at the foot of my bed, arms crossed, looking as though I'd committed a grand offense against the concept of discipline.
"Elara. Breakfast. Downstairs. Now. Everyone is waiting."
Oh, right. That wholesome family rule.
In House Valette, no one touched a single fork until everyone was seated.
I rubbed my eyes and flopped back. "Five more minutes."
"After breakfast," he said, tone clipped, "we're heading to the temple."
"Again?!" I bolted upright. "Didn't we just go yesterday? Are we moving in or something? That place isn't even close—and you only show up once a month to keep up appearances!"
His jaw tightened.
"That little mouth of yours never stops," he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You were there when I spoke to the High Priest, weren't you?"
"I mean... I was... maybe?"
He exhaled sharply. "The High Priest made an offer. He suggested that you, being close in age, accompany the Oracle as his peer. A respectable arrangement."
I blinked. "Wait—what? You agreed to that without even asking me?"
"You're ten years old," he said with quiet finality. "Toddlers do not decide what's good for them. That's the job of their guardians. Do you understand the prestige this will bring? Do you even grasp the magnitude of this opportunity?"
Toddler, yeah sure. "I get it, but—"
"No 'but's. We're out of time. The temple expects us. Be ready. No drama."
He turned and swept out with the weight of finality.
Seriously, have I ever acted out like a kid? Maybe sometimes, but tell me a kid my age who carries themselves with a grace like mine—and even the toddlers around me say that I have maturity in me. Still, this man persists to treat me like a kid... I wanna burn this place...
I arrived at the dining hall, and at the same time, a servant whispered something to Father—which I am totally not curious about because I already know that. I just caused a havoc upstairs as I burned one of his favourite paintings.
The painting had been a subject of debate in the mansion for years. Most couldn't tell if it was a masterpiece or a prank. Jagged swirls of color and aggressive strokes of ink—it looked like something a moody toddler might've made. Still, the Duke had paid handsomely for it, insisting the beauty of it was way too complex for ordinary minds like us to understand.
My father took one look at me and sighed.
"Just... behave when we reach the temple," he muttered. "The entire reputation of House Valette rests on your shoulders."
"Honestly, if you ask me," my brother added, mid-bite, "those shoulders don't look that reliable to me."
"Quiet," Father said.
---
The carriage moved smoothly through the sky, the mana wheels humming low beneath us. I kept my eyes on the clouds outside. The clouds looked like soft pillows floating by. I kept my face pressed to the window of the flying carriage, arms folded tight.
So what if I burned that painting, huh? It was a good riddance, in fact! It was like proof he had hanged in the hallway that he was stupid enough to get scammed!...
...ok maybe I went overboard...
But I didn't think he'd stay quiet.
I kind of wished he hadn't.
The mana wheels hummed softly as we glided through the sky, and for a second, I wished we'd hit a storm. Just a tiny one. Enough to make some noise.
Anything but this silence.
---
When we arrived, the footman opened the door. My father stepped out first, then turned, hand extended.
I took it with a smile that was softer than expected, stepping down with grace.
Even Father looked slightly taken aback.
"What?" I asked, fluttering my lashes. "You asked to behave, forgot?"
I adjusted my ribbon and added with calm conviction, "And I am Elara Valette, I have to be at my best now."
Father asked, "Would it kill you if you behave that way at home too all the time?"
I answered back, "Then stop taking decisions on my behalf..."
We saw the temple. Again...
The guards bowed as we passed.
The only difference from last time is that the High Priest didn't welcome us here.
We stepped beyond the final circle of protection into the temple's garden.
And then I saw it.
A palace—not grand in size, but breathtaking in design. It shimmered under sunlight like moonlight turned to stone. The walls, carved from radiant marble veined with silver, seemed to glow from within. Stained-glass windows arched high, casting trails of color across a cobbled path. Roses, lilies, and rare starblossoms bloomed in perfect order, tended with reverence.
At its heart rose a white-gold tower.
The Oracle's Residence.
It didn't feel like a home.
It felt like a place sculpted by divinity.