Two days had quietly slipped by since Ulrich departed the estate for the capital. Throughout the manor, the maids had braced themselves for chaos, fully expecting the three sisters to run rampant the moment their strict guardian was out of sight. A month ago, Ulrich’s absence had triggered a small rebellion, and the staff assumed history would surely repeat itself. Yet, the anticipated uproar never materialized. Instead, the halls remained quite peaceful.

Over the past month, the girls had grown accustomed to their new reality. They understood the unspoken bargain: Ulrich provided them with unprecedented privileges, and in return, he demanded strict discipline. Besides, the sisters had already made a quiet pact among themselves. They needed to absorb every piece of knowledge they could before eventually making their escape, leaving them little reason to squander their time rebelling.

Instead, they channeled their energy into the rigorous curriculum designed by their four tutors. Their days were consumed by literacy, the nuances of magical etiquette, and dense historical texts, everything required to mold them into the flawless image of noble ladies from a Count’s house. Ulrich, however, refused to settle for mere competence. He demanded perfection, determined to ensure that the high society of Skargradia could never find a single flaw to hold against the young witches.

That morning began in the sprawling study under the instruction of Thomas Danvers. Tasked with teaching them geography, history, and the politics of the Kingdom, Danvers faithfully followed Ulrich’s directive to focus almost exclusively on Skargradia. The lecture stretched on interminably. Given the early hour, Esther fought a losing battle against her heavy eyelids, her head nodding with every passing minute.

For Airam and Hermione, the exhaustion was mental rather than physical. It grated on their nerves to memorize the noble lineages and borders of a kingdom that openly despised their kind. Still, they swallowed their pride. They knew they lacked better options; if they wanted to survive in Skargardia, they had to understand the very people who hated them.

As the grandfather clock chimed the end of the lesson, Thomas offered them a warm, encouraging smile.

"I thank you for your diligent attention, my ladies," he said, offering a bow before gathering his ledgers and slipping out through the doors.

The moment the latch clicked shut, Esther let out a breath. She immediately crossed her arms over her desk and buried her face against them. "Phew, I am so sleepy~"

Hermione cast a sympathetic glance toward her younger sister. Esther was hardly the only one suffering from exhaustion. Beneath their quiet compliance lay a shared burden: the nightmares that plagued their nights. All three sisters suffered from the night terrors, but Airam bore the brunt of them, often spending her nights staring at the dark ceiling rather than risking the visions that waited for her in sleep.

"If you are that tired, you can take a nap right after lunch, Esther," Hermione said gently, pushing her chair back and standing up to stretch her stiff legs.

Esther’s head snapped up, suddenly wide awake. "No! I am completely fine! I want to be awake for Ms. Elana’s class!"

Hermione raised an eyebrow, amused by the sudden burst of energy. "Why are you so excited about it?"

"Because she teaches us how to be a real lady, Hermione!" Esther beamed, her eyes sparkling with innocent enthusiasm. "You know, exactly like the ones in the books mother used to read to us!"

"Those are tiresome tales that paint women as nothing more than helpless damsels in distress," Hermione scoffed, her tone filled with disdain. She despised those antiquated stories where a woman’s only purpose was to wait around to be rescued, reduced to a mere romantic prize for the male protagonist.

"But I always thought they were rather beautiful..." Esther muttered, her voice dropping shyly. It wasn’t that she failed to grasp Hermione’s view; she simply possessed a softer, more romanticized vision of chivalry, one where grand gestures and sweeping rescues held a certain magical charm.

Seeking an ally, Esther pivoted. "Right, elder sister?"

Airam hadn’t engaged in the bickering. Instead, she stood quietly at the front of the room, her gaze fixed upon the large chalkboard. Pinned just beside the dense scrawls of historical dates was a sprawling, meticulously detailed map of the known world.

"What are you looking at so intently?" Esther asked, trotting over to stand beside her.

"Just thinking," Airam replied. "Thinking about where we might go once we are strong enough, and once we are finally done with this place."

Esther leaned in, her eyes scanning the faded map. "Ooh, I want to go here!" She said, tapping a small finger against a beautiful illustration of floating islands situated in the far west. Sylphara. The mythical domain of the legendary Elven race.

Hermione marched over, crossing her arms defensively. "Why on earth would you want to go there? The only logical destination is Arcadia, obviously." She confidently pointed to a large island southeast of Skargardia. "We can study every branch of magic known to history there. We could even become Archmages!"

"What about you, elder sister?" Esther asked, letting out a soft giggle.

Airam continued to trace the jagged coastlines with her eyes. In truth, she had no idea where they truly belonged. Beyond these walls, witches were feared, hunted, and universally despised. Perhaps Arcadia, with its deep love for magic, might be more tolerant of their kind, but even that was a dangerous gamble. To Airam’s battle-weary mind, every inch of that map represented a potential threat.

"I don’t really care," she finally answered, her tone softening as she looked away from the map. "As long as I am with the two of you, anywhere is fine."

A faint flush crept onto Hermione’s cheeks, though she quickly masked it with a proud smirk. "Hmph. Of course, we are staying together. There was never any doubt about that."

"I will always stay by your sides!" Esther chimed in brightly, wrapping both arms around Airam’s elbow in a tight, affectionate squeeze.

Hermione’s smile grew as her gaze drifted back to the map. "You know, if nowhere else will have us, maybe we should just carve out our own kingdom somewhere."

Esther gasped, her imagination instantly taking flight. "Wait... then wouldn’t that make us the Princesses of our own land?!"

"Well, of course we would be," Hermione replied. She would never admit it aloud, but the grandiose fantasy appealed to her immensely. "And then, even Ulrich would have no choice but to bow and address us respectfully as ’Your Highness!’ Can you imagine the look on his face?"

"Eh?" Esther fell somewhat silent hearing that.

Imagining the always calm and noble Ulrich acting like a knight serving a Princess to her was giving her strange feelings about it.

"I doubt Ulrich will ever call us anything at all," Airam said dryly, puncturing the daydream.

"Right. He barely even uses our actual names as it is," Hermione agreed, her expression sobering.

Since the day he had taken them in, she could only recall him saying Airam’s name a single time. Not once had he addressed her or Esther directly by name. He maintained a wall of cold distance between himself and them, not that Hermione was complaining about the lack of affection.

Right on cue, the quiet atmosphere was shattered by a distinct, rumbling growl from Hermione’s stomach. Her face instantly flushed hot red, her grand ambitions momentarily forgotten in the face of embarrassment. Spinning on her heel, she marched quickly toward the doors.

"Let’s go eat!"

"Finally!" Esther cheered, happily trailing after her sister with Airam close behind.

Airam, however, did not immediately follow her sisters. She paused near the threshold, her attention suddenly snagged by a tall arched window. Her gaze pierced through the thick glass, scanning the distant perimeter of the estate far beyond the grilled gates.

She furrowed her brows, her dark eyes narrowing at the distant tree line as she searched for a threat she couldn’t quite see, but finding nothing but swaying branches, she finally turned and walked away.

◊◊◊

Far from the bustling city streets, the Rubenhart Estate’s isolated location proved to be a strong disadvantage. Hidden within the dense shadows of the bordering tree lines, Lucida watched the grand estate attentively. She kept her cloak pulled low to conceal her features, melting into the woodland gloom. She was not alone in the encroaching darkness. Another witch stood quietly at her side, flanked by three imposing men, Blooded Sons of her Coven, who had accepted to help her seize the three daughters of Anna-Maria.

A cold smile curled Lucida’s lips as she peered through the thick foliage to stare at the estate’s defenses. Armored guards patrolled the wrought-iron gates in predictable routes, completely oblivious to the danger lurking in the woods. To an ordinary intruder, the fortress might have seemed impenetrable, but for a witch like her those armed sentries were nothing more than minor inconveniences. Tearing her gaze away from the estate, she turned to face her silent, waiting companions.

"Tonight, we are doing it."