It was a quiet, peaceful day in Anna-Maria’s small home, spent together with her daughters.

A soft smile rested on Anna-Maria’s lips as she gently combed through Esther’s blonde hair, careful and tender with every stroke.

"Mommy."

"What is it, Esther?" Anna-Maria asked softly.

Esther tilted her head a little. "Why do strangers come to see us so often?"

It was something she had noticed more than once.

From time to time, a Witch or a Blooded Son would come to their home and ask to speak with Anna-Maria alone. Whenever that happened, Anna-Maria would always tell her daughters to hide and not come out again until the visitors had left.

Esther did not truly understand what it meant.

But Airam and Hermione did.

"They want to separate us, so Mother keeps refusing them," Hermione answered with a shrug, only briefly lifting her eyes from the book in her lap.

"I—Is that true?" Esther asked, looking up at her mother.

Anna-Maria let out a quiet little chuckle.

"Something like that," she said gently. Then her expression softened further as she looked down at Esther. "Do you want to be taken away from me and your sisters, Esther?"

"Never!" Esther replied at once, shaking her head with all the force her little body could muster.

Anna-Maria smiled. "Then you already have your answer."

Her voice turned calmer, more serious.

"The life of a Coven is not a healthy one. Promise me that no matter what anyone says to you one day, you will never join one."

Her gaze moved from Esther to Hermione, and then finally to Airam, who was quietly eating a half-finished piece of bread.

"I won’t!" Esther answered first, without even hesitating.

"I don’t want to either. It sounds boring," Hermione said with a dismissive shrug.

Airam, however, did not answer right away.

She tore off another piece of bread and chewed slowly, thoughtful, her dark eyes fixed on their mother.

Then she finally spoke.

"I want to become like you, Mother."

Anna-Maria’s smile wavered with something softer, something almost painful.

"Come here, dear."

Airam rose at once and walked over, still holding her loaf of bread in one hand.

Anna-Maria gently pulled her down so that she sat with her back to her, and then she began brushing through Airam’s long black hair with the same patient care.

"You are the eldest sister, Airam," Anna-Maria said quietly. "So you must set the example for Hermione and Esther. You must protect them."

Airam lowered her gaze. "I want to learn witchcraft so I can protect them. But right now, I can’t do anything."

Anna-Maria kept brushing her hair in gentle strokes, her expression turning faintly complicated.

"There are other ways to protect the people you love, Airam," she said. "And one day, you will learn them."

"But we are witches, Mother. Why don’t you teach us?" Hermione asked, finally looking up from her book. "You are very strong, aren’t you?"

Anna-Maria was silent for the briefest moment.

"Not anymore, darling," she said at last, though her voice remained light. "And I am happy as I am now, with the three of you."

She smiled again.

"Aren’t you happy too, Hermione?"

"Hmph. Not really," Hermione muttered, looking away. "You don’t even let us go outside."

Anna-Maria laughed softly under her breath.

Then she reached one hand out toward her.

Hermione let out a small sigh, closed her book, and reluctantly crawled over. She settled down with her back to her mother as well, right beside Esther, who sat snugly in the middle.

Anna-Maria then began combing through Hermione’s silver hair too, surrounding all three girls in the same quiet, loving warmth.

"Outside is dangerous, Hermione. We are not in a friendly kingdom," Anna-Maria explained softly, her brush never pausing. "Spells protect this village. We are safe here."

"Why do we have to hide here, then? Can’t we go somewhere else?" Airam asked, glancing back over her small shoulder.

Anna-Maria’s hands stilled for a fraction of a second.

"One day," she said. "I promise you, I will show you everything you want to see."

"I don’t care, Mommy," Esther interjected, raising her bright blue eyes. "I just want to be with you, elder sister, and big sister."

"How sweet you are, my little Esther," Anna-Maria grinned, gently pinching the girl’s soft cheek.

Hermione crossed her arms, her face flushing slightly. "W—Well, I don’t care either, as long as I am with you."

Airam didn’t reply, simply taking another slow bite of her bread.

Anna-Maria’s smile deepened into something warmer. She leaned forward, wrapping both her arms around all three of her daughters, pulling them flush against her chest.

"I love you so much, my beautiful girls."

"Love you too, Mommy!" Esther beamed, leaning back into her embrace.

◊◊◊

"Hmn..." 𝓯𝓻𝒆𝙚𝒘𝓮𝙗𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝒍.𝙘𝓸𝙢

Esther fluttered her sky-blue eyes open, pulling herself from the depths of sleep.

Her vision was blurry, her eyes stinging and glowing with unshed tears.

Blinking slowly, she felt the first hot drop spill over her lashes and track silently down her cheek.

She reached up with a small, trembling hand, brushing the wetness away with her fingertips.

As the fading warmth of her dream slowly evaporated into the cold reality of the morning, she lowered her gaze.

Her blonde hair was a tangled mess, spilling over her shoulders. Reaching back, she gathered the messy strands, bringing them forward over her shoulder and beginning to comb through them with slow strokes of her fingers, just as her mother had done in the dream.

After a moment, she finally looked around.

She was sitting in the center of the massive, king-sized bed they all shared. Even now, in the grand estate of a Count, the three sisters refused to sleep apart.

She glanced to her right. The space where Airam usually slept was empty, the sheets cold to the touch.

It was still early in the morning, but Esther wasn’t surprised.

Airam rarely slept. In fact, Esther often found herself quietly wondering if her eldest sister ever truly slept at all. Airam would usually lie down beside them just for the sake of appearances, only to slip away into the dark the moment she thought her younger sisters were asleep.

So, Airam’s absence was a given. It certainly wasn’t the first time.

But...

Esther slowly turned her head to the left.

Hermione’s spot was empty, too.

Frowning in the dim morning light, Esther pulled the duvet aside and quietly stepped down onto the plush carpet.

As she stepped onto the plush carpet, her ears perked up, catching the faint sound of metal clattering in the distance.

A small, knowing smile instantly spread across her lips.

Without wasting a second, Esther padded quickly across the room and snatched a comb off the vanity. She paused in front of the large, ornate mirror, taking a moment to inspect her reflection in the morning light.

It had been exactly two years since the three of them had arrived at the Rubenhart Estate and were officially adopted by Ulrich.

Esther was now twelve years old.

She had certainly grown a little taller, but to her immense frustration, her body was clearly not developing as fast as she had hoped.

Frowning at her still-childish figure, she quickly attacked her blonde hair, dragging the comb through the messy tangles with long strokes. Once it looked presentable enough, she tossed the comb aside and skipped out of the room, her bare feet pattering rapidly down the grand staircase.

She could already hear a few of the early-rising servants bustling about their morning chores. Usually, Esther would stop and offer them a cheerful greeting, but today, she was far too eager to get outside. She wanted to hurry before she missed it.

Reaching the ground floor, she bypassed the grand halls entirely and slipped out the rear doors toward the backyard.

Just before she stepped out onto the open pavement of the training yard, she quickly skidded to a halt.

Pressing her back against a stone-arched wall, she tried to calm the sudden, loud hammering of her heart in her chest.

Taking a shallow breath, she shyly peeked her head around the edge of the stone.

There, standing in the center of the grassy grounds, bathed in the pale light of dawn, was Ulrich.

Just as he did every single morning, he stood shirtless, his skin glistening with sweat as he drove a dull iron sword into a battered dummy.