Beaches were her chaos. Her calm. They had always given her a distraction and an escape. One storm led into the next as the waves crashed around a cluster of rocks she stood upon. It had been a boulder when she was a kid but barely stood above the waves now. Time does a funny thing, it changes perspectives, it changes everything. She was turning twenty tomorrow, the local town of Erindren was excited. They were throwing a celebration for her. This wasn’t the first time they had celebrated her existence. It was a tradition of sorts she guessed. She never understood this though, because most of them had never met her. 

Her brother would be along shortly, he wasn’t one to be absent on a day like today. They had their own traditions her father didn’t even know about. As the wind kicked up, white hair covered her tanned face presenting a stark contrast to the surrounding villages’ people. Her family didn’t grow up here, but they bought the land, and hired the workers, and turns this small city into a bustling trade port. She wasn’t allowed to go down to the port. Not yet at least.

It wasn’t a particularly cold day, but the ocean seemed determined in its ability to chill the air. Walking the beach was rare these last few months, her father had been making preparations that required her time, unfortunately. Such a simple activity that cost so little time ended up being her best investment that morning. She found three gem-encrusted stones; she would give them to a few of the servants. She wasn’t sure if they kept them and a piece of driftwood that her brother could turn into something fun. The distraction cleared the mind for today. The driftwood would be for her brother. He loved to carve in his spare time. He always had free time to burn. He wasn’t sworn like she was,  freedom came with luxuries. Her captivity was her birthright. Her father had always frowned upon wasting time, any amount of it. Her favorite thing to do as a kid was hiding, her father would waste hours fuming and ordering servants to find her. She was always out in the fields picking flowers or playing with Ronna.

Her father was Sworn. He had devoted his life and the life of his firstborn to the collection of history. All history. Or, at least as much as they could gather. He considered it the only thing that mattered, but he rarely treated her brother Ronna the same way. 

“Annabelle?” her brother Ronna softly spoke from behind her. “I thought we were having lunch by the ocean today?” he said as he walked up behind her with a small basket of food and drink.

“Not today brother, I have to go up soon. Just snuck away for a bit, we’ll see if father notices,” she smirked and picked up another stone, this one with a single gem stuck prominently in the center. “This one’s nice, an azrenile cluster!” she shouted excitedly, washing the stone in the water that crossed their feet.

“Lovely finds as always,” Ronna smiled, poking through the other stones in her hand. “What’s that wood for?” 

“I.. got it for you actually. Figured you could turn it into something exciting for your son,” she said in a hushed tone before handing over the driftwood.

Had the ocean always smelled so pungent? She wondered as she walked along the beach with her brother now in tow. “He’s ready to give up you know,” she said, brushing the hair out of her eyes as the wind kicked up. “He doesn't want it anymore. Not that he ever had wanted it... I think.”

“He deserves peace as we all do. It isn’t his fault,” he said grabbing her hand and holding it as they walked. 

“But you’re not the one that has to take this burden, Ronna! I have to take this burden—his burden—as my own,” she stammered angrily, stumbling slightly on the hill of sand they climbed like they always did. It wasn’t her father she was angry with but the circumstance. The heir was always the firstborn, regardless of gender. The firstborn was the only lineage that would bond properly.

“You know we will have a wonderful life full of knowledge and adventure.” Ronna smiled softly putting an arm around his sister to help her to the top.

“Adventure? What adventure... I read all day and study all night. That isn’t changing anytime soon.” she brushed the sand off her knees at the top of the hill.

Ronna reached into his satchel and pulled out a copy of Azanar’s Alliance. The book was bound in blue leather and striped in gold banding. “Adventure,” he said casually, emphasizing the book with a twist of his wrist.

“That’s not adventure Ronna, that’s fiction. For children.” she stared at him in disbelief, brushing his arm off her shoulders and walked off and up a flight of stairs. “If it were history, it’d at least be worth some time!” she yelled as the wind picked up across the beach.

“At least it’s interesting Annabelle!” he yelled back then turned and headed back up the rough cliff stairs in the opposite direction to his house. Turning around he walked back over the jagged cliff rocks a few strides. He grew up on these rocks and knew them like they were the marble steps of his sister’s false palace. They were cleaned every twelve minutes he estimated. He watched his sister climb the stairs and disappear upon the upper landing. He wasn’t allowed to be present today. It wasn’t his birthright and she was right, that was hard on her.  His sister had enough on her shoulders today without worrying about his mental fortitude. 

Annabelle walked up the stairs from the beach to the balcony of the estate. The balcony overlooked Alirsa Island, a beautiful area of Onir Cove. Pale blue flowers lined the edges of the cliffs. When the winds were right it threw petals of blue into the air that, while slightly annoying, innocently speckled the marble floors. 

As she rounded the marble-lined courtyard atop the cliffs she was stopped by two servants, one of which, a skinny girl roughly twelve, handed her a small towel that was warmed by a fire. The winds were picking up so they had been instructed to care for her. The other; a blonde boy of ten years, laid her slippers before her. Once their tasks had been completed they ran off back to their chambers. She put on her slippers and draped the towel around her shoulders, she had given up arguing with most of the servant’s commands years ago. She knew they were only paid if the job was completed. She wasn’t allowed to talk to the servants, so she never had the opportunity to get to know any of them. But they were more or less the closest thing to siblings she ever had besides her brother, which she was distanced from since he was more of a chaotic factor. That’s what her father told her at least.

As she walked into the first long hall of her families’ home she was greeted by granite and limestone. Everything was clean. It

The hall of her family was relatively modest compared to the main building held by her father. The entire monolith was covered in white granite, studded in silver spires. 

 the hall of her family home.  marble floors and bright white lanterns 

Another bright sunny day. Another breakfast cooked to perfection by someone she had never met. Another series of lessons to awaken her mind. Another day having any number of servants she wasn’t allowed to talk to; do any number of things she was not aware of. Another day of living as a librarian. More specifically, her father's assistant librarian. 

She sighed as the last servant left the balcony, waiting for them to leave her in peace.

“Annabelle...” Marcus choked out as he slid his hand across the bed to it’s edge.

“Yes father?” she whispered as she gently took his limp hand into her own. As she did she was filled with memories of simple walks through gardens and grand adventures across countless lands. Her father had given her his world. Every aspect of it that he could hold on to at least.

“It’s time.”

“I’m not ready,” she sighed as she held back tears.

“I know,” he paused, turning his head to finally look into his daughter’s eyes. “I’m sorry Annabelle. If there really was still time, I’d give it to you. Enough time to finally see Kistrah at night,” he said with a comforting smile as his head laid back against his pillow. Both of them feeling the memory--of a place they’d never actually visited--wash over them. Kistrah’s nights were the darkest in the region. It was famous for its view of their galaxy with the naked eye. Her father once told her as a kid that you could throw a net into Kistrah’s starry sky and it would come down filled with gems.

“There's time. We can make more,” she looked around the room frantically for a second wondering where her father’s alchemist tray was. When she found it cleaned and empty on a table in the corner she realized, somberly, that it was no longer a factor of time. she sobbed softly staring back into her father’s gentle blue eyes. She had always found comfort in his eyes, his love radiated from them. Those eyes were the only thing in this world that held truth for her. The rest of her experience in life thus far had been similar to her surroundings. Clean marble and servants that don’t speak. Those eyes though, those eyes were her future and our past.

“Time isn’t infinite my gem and it is relative to your own experience. You know this, I've taught you well enough by now,” he said with a comforting smile.

“What will I do?” she paused, gripping his frail hand a little tighter.

“You’ll learn and live and become the last of our family’s lineage,” he whispered, a tear rolling down his cheek. “Fill your life with love and family. Take every adventure that is thrown your way. Thrive.” he shuttered as the emotion behind his words built up. He could feel it now. The faintness. It wasn’t just death that he was facing. 

“I will. You’ve shown me so much father, I wish I could truly bring you with me, I..” she paused, noticing her father’s shutter. 

“Remember me,” he whispered breathlessly. His eyes fading, turning a bluish-grey.

As Annabelle watched him take his last breath. Almost instantly she felt a shock from her fist which drew her attention. She expected it but it still startled her. Their palms held together glowed a faint purple light. As she opened their hands a purple sphere rolled into her palm and pulsed with life. The purple gem swirled with liquid energy that shimmered pink in the light coming in from the windows. As she finally let go of her father's hand she cupped the gem with great reverence. She wasn’t sure if she was ready, but it was time. She pressed the gem against the palm of her left hand. It slowly sank into the decorative full moon-shaped tattoo on her hand, embedding half the gem within herself. “I won’t ever forget you,” she whispered to the sphere almost reverently. 

Nor I you my gem. She heard the pulse within her. Shock flooding her face in an instant. She knew what to expect, having studied them for years. But this--this was her first time bonding with an Arc.

Let’s hope she forgives you.