“Good, but I need you to do more than try, and I want you to add that you’ll leave this place if you can.”
I gripped the blanket beneath me—this conversation was more taxing to me than training had been.
“Fine,” I said.
He cocked his head, letting me know thatfinewasn’t good enough.
“Okay, I promise. Good enough?”
With a soft smile, he drew me closer and squeezed me tight. “Yes. Thank you, Ny.”
After dinner, we made our way back down, talking about nothing and everything as we slipped back into the ease we often found in each other’s company. We took our time, enjoying every moment, every joke, every laugh, not getting back to my family’s cabin until well after nightfall—which I was perfectly fine with. Hugging Eithan good night, he offered me a boost up, and I accepted, crawling back through the window.
Chapter 4
Dear Mrs. Erikson
Eithan’s words from the day before stirred something inside me I hadn’t felt in ages. As I meandered through the woods to Mrs. E’s, my mind swirled with thoughts of how things would be different if misfortune hadn’t befallen my family when my twin sister died and, later, when the local mill closed. No matter what path my mind took, I kept circling back to my birth.
Mother was swollen with her second set of twins. A rare occurrence in itself—let alone being gifted with a second pair. Such a thing had never been witnessed in recent memory, and the villagers believed we were a blessing from the gods themselves.
I was born first. Beautiful and healthy. My sister followed minutes later. Although, she wasn’t born at all, but arrived in our world still, never given the opportunity to utter a single cry.
Grief-stricken, mother refused to breastfeed me—as if nursing would somehow root my sister’s death in reality. The midwife thought her depression was exacerbated by postpartum sickness, believing it would pass—but within weeks of my delivery, more tragedy struck.
Mother’s parents fell ill and succumbed within days of my birth,meaning she buried a child and both parents within a fortnight. I couldn’t imagine what that must have been like, and she’d refused to speak with me about it.
Our family, on my father’s side, came from generational wealth. We had owned almost all the land in the area and eventually built a mill, which brought jobs, people, and prosperity to the region. Over time, a village named Leighmullan formed.
Father was groomed to take over the mill, which was our village’s main source of industry and income. He had lofty dreams of expanding our family trade far and wide, aspiring for our name to be known for generations to come.
When Grandfather stepped down from the business, he and my grandmother moved far away, chasing warmer climates. Anxious to carve out his own legacy, Father leveraged the mill and expanded into new territories.
Less than a month after I was born, the village awoke to skies of red. The dense smoke stifled the workers’ breaths, impairing their vision as they desperately tried to save the mill. It burned to the ground before sunrise—nothing was salvageable.
With the collateral for the loans now ash, the debtors could no longer justify the liability. As none of the other mills were operational, all our assets were repossessed. The town’s economy came to a halt, and we were forced to move to our tiny hunting cabin on the outskirts of civilization.
Father had sent letters beseeching his parents for help, but they refused. Grandfather had warned that a forced expansion was too risky and implored Father to take the long road. Unfortunately, his words had fallen on deaf ears.
Nearly a year later, my grandparents came for a visit. They hadn’t truly grasped just how far our family had fallen. Still, Grandfather refused to help financially. He believed Father should learn from his mistakes and find his way back—he never did.
Grandmother couldn’t bear us growing up in squalor. She talked to my parents, and together, they tried to convince Grandfather totake us children with them, where we would receive a proper education and build a life for ourselves free from the stain of Father’s misfortunes.
Grandfather caved, but there was one stipulation: I was to stay. They’d pled with him relentlessly until he made it clear that it was Cassy and Leighton, or no one. They never advocated for me again.
When I was barely a year old, Grandfather cradled me for the first time. He claimed he’d felt somethingwrongwith me and released me back into my mother’s arms, declaring me cursed. Given the trail of misfortune following my birth, no one was inclined to contradict him.
And so, our family was divided. My brother and sister lived with our grandparents, while I was damned to the ashes of our legacy.
Evidently, Grandfather’s declaration resonated with my parents. In one of our nastier arguments, Mother called me acursed changelingas she slapped me across the face—it was the fight that propelled me into the woods the day I met Eithan.
Maybe they were right. Sometimes I wished my sister was born alive instead of me, possibly affording my family a life unriddled with sadness and hardship. None of them would miss me. Not really. Perhaps she could have offered them something I couldn’t. At the very least, she could’ve been raised in comfort with her siblings.
Damn Eithan for dredging this up. There was a reason I let good enough go. But maybe he had a point. Who said this had to be my life? Maybe I had cursed my family, maybe I hadn’t. Either way, it didn’t meanIwas cursed, or that I should be shackled to whatever fate haunted my parents.
One at a time, my thoughts retreated, tucking themselves back into the crevices they’d crawled out of. I came back to myself and took in my surroundings.
“Shit,” I said into the silent woods. I’d overshot the turn to Mrs. E’s estate.
