cult to discard the fact that there is someone posing as a dare to his potency, a female for the matter. I cannot help but giggle to myse

ess the outside world despite our advanced age. The only most powerful person we have witnessed is our Father, the Demon Lord,

ess sky above, the blue waters in front, a thicket far behind and the wide, sandy space at our sides pave way to the beautiful chorus of birds, an

nce. Father never accepts guests, and the borders of our lands remain blocked for ages. He even put up enchanted barriers to hamper t

s. He has the habit of reading one's thoughts and intruding on their privacy, which often makes me wish that I know of

s to his ears. “You said that I wasn’t clever and I’m just stressing that I do not boast of it lik

don’t bottle up a good fact about yourself,” I respond, which s

ssure on my aching ankle. “What do you mean?” I wince and try to pull his hands away, but he has m

am never going to mind him. I just stare with dried eyes at the se

obviously did not tell you that it’s necessary,” Damien hiss

ecause Father seems too occupied with the concerns of the Shore, I had felt ther

my floor, I see Lucerne and Damien standing in front of my door, Damien’s righ

d and deep lines pulling across his forehead. He does not seem composed as he usually did, and it is odd. It sounds like a cliché, but Lucern

nstantly, giving his full concentration. Since he faced my direction, Lucerne is the first

talk?” I rasp as I reach them. While I look between my two brothers for an answer, Damien sighs and

sion, I can tell that it unsettles him. He must be thinking about how unfruit

iced something on my face that makes him place his warm palm on my cheek; maybe a lump of flesh under my eyes or a dark

fondles my cheek, and

enquiries, but maybe Damien never wants me to know about

scape through the woods.” He says the last part o

inches below Damien and me even though he is five years older than I am. Damien is three years younger, yet I stand as the tallest among them. He inherits

. He suddenly fell ill after we finished mapping out the Shore’s projects for autumn. It was just a brie

that I am not going to fall. I try to convince myself that what Lucerne said is not true, but as I know him, he would not speak in a c

holds him by the arm, but he shuffles the Latter’s hand

mps run along my skin. I suddenly feel nervous and unwilling to see Father, and I cannot help but visualize the scenario of how he looks now. Father is not the sic

ble, his hands working gently on the terracotta he sculpts. Yet, when his eyes shoot to our direction, I feel myself jolting back with

and meets us. I do not know of my brothers, but I glued my eyes to Father’s, checking if

retching as his eyes narrow. Only then do