Sana

  The morning air smelled of salt and damp wood, the steady hush of waves brushing against the dock setting a slow rhythm to the day. The lone ship moored nearby swayed with the water, its ropes creaking softly as it rested against the pier. The sun had climbed just high enough to start burning away the mist that clung to the horizon, casting golden light across the sea.

  I handed my bucket to Ma'een, watching as she bent down and dipped it into the water with practiced ease. She barely hesitated before handing it back to me, already moving to fill one of her own. She carried two, effortlessly balancing their weight as if they were nothing, while I struggled with my single one. Watching her, I felt a familiar mix of admiration and a little envy.

  When I grew up, I hoped I could be just as strong and beautiful as she was. Many girls could carry two buckets of water, but none did it with the effortless grace of my sister. Everywhere we went, she turned heads. Her raven-black hair cascaded down her back, a striking contrast to her pale skin, making her impossible to ignore. Her face had a soft curve to it like moonlight cradled in the shape of a heart.

  Footsteps pounded against the wooden planks, quick and urgent. A voice called out, breathless but excited. "Ma'een!"

  I turned to see Tony sprinting down the dock, his dusty hair tousled from the wind. Broad-shouldered and sun-tanned, he wore a plain tunic made of wool and brown trousers fastened with an old leather belt. His eyes flickered between us, but it was Ma'een he was looking for. He skidded to a stop near her, hands on his knees as he caught his breath.

  "Morning," he said, flashing a lopsided grin. "Hard at work already?"

  Ma'een barely spared him a glance as she lifted her second bucket. "Same as every morning."

  Tony chuckled, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "Sana, you are getting big fast. You will be carrying two buckets soon?"

  A grin broke my face, "Of course. Today is my Affinity day. I am almost an adult."

  "That is right. You had your birthday a couple of moons ago," he said. "Are you excited to be grouped with the nobles?"

  "I am never excited to see my family," I replied, looking down. Before I could react, my sister slapped me on the arm. I had forgotten I wasn't supposed to say that. "I mean... I am excited to learn magic and be recognized."

  My sister and Tony exchanged a look I couldn't place. Were they flirting? I couldn't quite tell, but the way he chased after her, I figured they would be married someday. It reminded me of those stories where the boy always pursued the girl until she realized how great he was. But in those stories, the boy was usually a noble, and Tony was the furthest thing from that. He wasn’t a slave like my sister, but I didn’t think those things really mattered.

  "Magic isn't everything. You shouldn't be disappointed if you don't get any," he said with a kind smile.

  "Oh, everyone gets some magic, but unless it's enough for a profession, they won’t let me learn spells." I glanced at my sister’s arm. She had four different magics and was decent in all of them, but not strong enough for a profession, so they had branded her as a slave. "How were spells learned in the first place?"

  Tony exchanged that look once again with my sister. I really wondered what it meant. "It's illegal to teach slaves or potential slaves spells."

  "Oh, I know that," I said. "I’m wondering how the original people learned spells. If people can only learn spells from one another, then how did anyone learn the first one?"

  His frown shifted into a smile. "I’ve heard tales of this a time or two. It is said that originally, people didn't have spells. It was the very ocean and the air that taught them the ways of magic. By listening to the waves lapping and the wind gusting, they uncovered the hidden secrets of magic and created their own spells."

  "Wow!" I said. "Do you think I could learn my own spells?"

  "Tony!" a man yelled, stomping down the docks in a huff. His voice carried over the sound of lapping waves, sharp and irritated.

  "Fuck, I've got to go!" Tony muttered before breaking into a jog.

  "I told you to stop bothering that house slave! She is never going to let you dock in her harbor!" the man bellowed after him. Tony, startled by the outburst, nearly tripped over his own feet but managed to recover. Even when he reached the older man, the scolding didn’t stop. "If you don’t finish loading by dusk, you’re going to haul the rest of the cargo yourself tonight!"

  Ma'een exhaled sharply beside me. "Come on," she said, her voice a little too forced. When I turned to look at her, I noticed her cheeks were flushed. Was she embarrassed? But why? What had been said to make her react like that?

  I grabbed my bucket, grimacing at the weight. "Why do we always have to use ocean water for scrubbing the tiles? Wouldn’t it be easier to use the water from the cistern?"

  She gave me a sideways glance. "Does anyone ever tell you that you ask a lot of questions?"

  "Only you. Every single day." I grinned while adjusting my grip. The hill leading up from the dock was a pain, especially with a full bucket.

  "Clean water is precious," she explained. "We can’t waste it scrubbing outside tiles. But today..." She shot me a wink. "I’ll handle it myself. You need to get ready for the ceremony."

  After leaving the buckets of water with Ma'een, I found my own source of water. One of my cousins, who was participating in the ceremony today, had taken a warm bath that morning. The water was still there, waiting to be reused for cleaning. I knew I shouldn’t be using it, but the opportunity was too good to pass up. Remembering my sister’s reminder about how precious water was, I didn't think it would be an issue.

  Knowing I would get in trouble if anyone saw me, I made it quick, washing as fast as I could before hurrying to dress back in my regular clothes. By the time I returned to our small stone cottage, my hair was freezing, but the lack of wind inside quickly took the edge off the chill.

  Stripping down, I reached for my only set of nice clothes. They were the ones I wore for special occasions. Or attempted to wear because they didn’t quite fit. It was an old embroidered dress that had once belonged to my sister and would eventually be passed down to another one of our father’s daughters.

  My regular dress was old and frayed, but I preferred it. It fit snugly, offering warmth and protection against the high winds that swept through the coast. These fancy clothes, however, were thin and loose in strange places, leaving my arms exposed to the cold. Every time I put them on, I could feel the wind chilling me anew, a reminder that they weren’t truly mine. They were simply too small, and frustration bubbled up inside me.

  Since they were elaborate, the buttons were in the back instead of the front, but I should have been able to fasten at least a couple on my own. But no matter how I twisted, I couldn’t manage it.

  Ma'een walked in and sighed, a knowing smirk on her lips. "Turn around," she said, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a few bobby pins. With careful hands, she gathered the fabric at my back and pinned it in place. "It’s not perfect, but it will hold."

  I let out a breath, relieved. "Thank you. Do you think Dad will like it?"

  Ma'een gave me a long stare before finally sighing. "It’s time for the talk. Today, you will no longer be treated as a child."

  I smiled with pride, ready to declare how mature I was, but she interrupted me.

  "No, that is not a good thing. You aren’t an adult, but you are no longer a child. I have told you repeatedly not to call him Dad or refer to our siblings as family."

  I interrupted this time, "But they are our family."

  "No." She cut me off. "We are slaves and not recognized. Our blood father may be the head of the house, but if I were ever heard calling him my father, I would be lucky only to receive a beating. I want you to understand that if you are not recognized today, you must watch your mouth."

  Tears started to well in my eyes.

  I wanted to be recognized today. I had magic… I just knew it.

  I only needed enough for a profession to be acknowledged. If it were Air Magic, maybe I could earn enough status to protect my sister. But deep down, I was afraid. "I don’t know how," I whined.

  "Do you want to know what I do when I feel like crying?" Ma'een asked with a kind smile. I nodded and wiped my tears, eager to hear her secret. "I build a wall in my mind. I imagine every fear and insecurity as bricks. Then, I use that wall as a barrier to the outside world. I shove all of my emotions behind that wall."

  "And that helps you not say the wrong thing?" I asked.

  "It helps you control what you say. It helps you calm yourself down. It helps you keep your face from betraying your thoughts. You should try it," she spoke as she worked on my hair, expertly untangling the damp knots with care.

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  Once she was done, we left, hand in hand, to decide my fate.

  Arriving at the courtyard of the main house, I took in the vast stretch of smooth stone, worn down by generations of feet. White limestone walls enclosed the space, archways framing the endless horizon where the sea met the sky. The salty breeze rolled in steadily, filling the open air, a reminder that this was the House of the Wind both in name and in presence.

  A raised platform stood at the far end, shaded by a wooden pergola where the head of the house and the council members sat in silent authority. Their robes, heavy and well-fitted, shifted subtly with each gust of wind, designed to withstand the ever-present breeze, as if the very air itself obeyed them.

  In the center of the courtyard lay a smooth, circular stone—worn, yet unyielding. One by one, those to be tested stepped onto it, their futures decided with the touch of an old woman’s hand.

  The nobles were called first. They stepped forward with confidence, their fine robes shifting in the breeze as they stood tall, carrying the weight of their family names.

  I, too, had a name, a name from the head of the house, but I was not allowed to be recognized under it. If I had enough magic to earn a profession, my father would finally acknowledge me. If not, I would return home as a slave, just like my sister.

  The last of the nobles was my cousin. Her magic was as weak as my sister’s, yet since she wasn’t born from a slave, she was welcomed back with open arms. A pang of jealousy ran cold through me, just like the wind in the courtyard—always there, always under the surface.

  Next was a slave-born girl. She stepped forward hesitantly, wringing her hands as the old woman placed a palm upon her head. When her magic was deemed insufficient, she panicked and tried to run, but it was useless. She barely made it two steps before the two guards stationed nearby sprang into action. With swift precision, one grabbed her arm and dragged her back to the center.

  Their movements were effortless, as their age and levels made escape impossible. One guard held her firmly in place while the other pressed the brand into her skin. Her tears were understandable, and they made me worry that soon, I would share her fate.

  The ceremony continued, and a few more slave-borns escaped branding by possessing just enough magic to avoid the mark. But I knew better. Without noble blood, they would likely end up as slaves anyway.

  How could a slave afford to support their own children? Even if one parent was free, they could barely support themselves. The house’s power stretched beyond its walls, slowly tightening its grip until even those with freedom found themselves dependent on its rule. Life within the house meant food, shelter, and resources, but at the cost of freedom.

  The same shackles did not bind me. My father was the head of the household and the only one with an Attunement. However, from what I had heard, our house had been weakening for generations. Many believed it was because of mixing blood with captured slaves. But I didn’t think the reason mattered. The truth was clear in today’s ceremony as the results were underwhelming.

  Watching the others step forward one by one, my anxiety grew. Each test brought more disappointment, more whispers from the council. As the line grew shorter, my hands began to sweat. The weight of expectation pressed against my chest. And then… it was only me remaining.

  Left for last, I stepped forward to be judged.

  The old woman gave a soft but kind smile. "No need to be nervous, but I do need your permission."

  "Given," I replied, bracing myself for what was to come. But I wasn’t ready. The moment her hand touched me, something inside of me shifted. I had always known that everyone was watching, but it wasn't until then that I truly felt it. Their gazes pressed against me, intrusive, as though I stood naked before them. And then, just as suddenly as it began, it stopped.

  The old woman’s smile deepened, a flicker of knowing in her eyes. I could tell by her expression that my result was good. But instead of telling me, she turned to address my father and the council that advised him.

  "Today, we have a new Attuned in Air Magic with us."

  Silence fell. Even the ever-present wind stilled as if the world itself was holding its breath. Then, in a sudden rush, the wind returned, howling through the courtyard.

  A murmur rose among the gathered crowd, voices overlapping in a mix of disbelief and excitement. My father stared at me, unreadable. Behind him, the council erupted into frantic discussion, their hushed voices sharp with urgency. None of it mattered to me.

  I turned in a circle, searching for my sister’s face. When I found her, she was smiling—bright, beautiful, radiant with pride.

  Attunement.

  Attunement.

  Everything had changed. My greatest hope had been to possess just enough Air Magic to earn a profession. That way, my father would recognize me, and I could claim my sister as my personal slave, ensuring she would always be safe, and we would never be separated.

  But Attunement was different. My father was the only Attuned in the house, and that was why he ruled. If he recognized me, did that mean I would be next in line? Could I one day free my sister and acknowledge her as a member of the family? I didn’t even know the possibilities, but I was excited.

  I turned my attention back to the council, realizing the full extent of the chaos my result had caused. The nobles, the council, the attendants—all of them were unsettled. The idea of a slave-born being Attuned was unthinkable, but then again, I was my father’s daughter. He had to recognize me as his child.

  A smile tugged at my lips.

  But their whispering didn’t stop.

  And that was when I started to worry.

  Every other person’s ceremony had been swift, their results decided in moments. Yet here I was, still standing in the circle, waiting. The guard, meant to capture and brand failures, remained at the ready.

  Finally, after much heated discussion, my father rose from his seat on the balcony. Relief flooded through me. Why else would he come down except to recognize me? To call me his daughter. To finally give me a place among them.

  He made his way down from the high balcony, his heavy robes billowing in the wind, the very air bending around him as if in reverence. I had always known he was a large man, but as he stepped toward me, he seemed larger than ever. The crowd fell silent as he raised his hand, commanding their attention.

  "I have an announcement. For too long, our bloodline and house have weakened. We had chosen compassion, and because of our empathy, we have lost much of our standing. But as of today, that ends. We have another Attuned among us, and our compassion will no longer hinder us." My father then gestured to me. "Sana here will be marked as a slave and will serve as my personal concubine."

  Confusion gripped me as much as it did the others. I had been Attuned. He should have been celebrating, not condemning me to slavery.

  Why?

  The courtyard erupted in chaos. Voices clashed, rising in a storm of disbelief and outrage. Tears welled in my eyes as confusion and panic took hold.

  He lifted his hand once more. "Silence," he commanded, and the courtyard stilled—except for one voice.

  Ma'een pushed forward, her face pale with fury. The two guards stationed to prevent escape moved to block her, but she did not stop. "It's against the law!" she screamed. "She is your daughter!"

  "We have consulted, and it is not against the law," he replied, his words meant for the crowd as much as for my sister. "She has never been recognized. By birth, she is nothing more than property, like her mother before her."

  "You cannot do this. It's disgusting!" she spat, her voice shaking with rage. "She is your own flesh and blood!"

  My father, ever composed, let his anger surface at her defiance. "What do you know? I know my duty, and she must learn hers."

  Ma'een’s voice broke. "Please," she begged. "Take me instead."

  My father then began murmuring words of power. The two guards, realizing what was happening, tried to move out of harm’s way at the last moment, but as the wind surged forward, they were thrown aside like rag dolls.

  My sister was not as lucky. The force of the wind struck her directly, slamming her into one of the courtyard pillars.

  It did not stop.

  The wind held her broken body against the stone as she struggled for air. I couldn’t understand why she couldn’t breathe, but I could see it. The life was being drained from her as she gasped for something she couldn’t reach.

  "Stop it!" I cried, grabbing my father's arm. "She can't breathe!"

  With a flick of his wrist, a gust knocked me backward. "Control yourself," he said, his tone cold. "You are unseemly. Crying. Throwing a tantrum. From today forward, you must understand your place."

  He turned to the assembled crowd. "Ma'een did not know her place." He gestured toward my sister, still gasping against the pillar. "You think I want to do what must be done? No. But as head of this house, I must do what is necessary. The council has decided... this is the only way to strengthen the bloodline. This will ensure our family's rise once again."

  I didn’t care about his speech. I didn’t care about the crowd. I didn’t care about my own fate. The only thing I cared about was my sister, slowly dying before me.

  I scrambled to my feet and ran to him, my voice breaking. "Please, let her go! I’ll do anything!"

  He looked at me, the wind swirling around him, unmoved. He had power, levels, and magic beyond anything I could resist. I was nothing before him. But still, I hoped.

  Finally, he spoke. "Calm yourself and brand your own slave mark, and I will spare her."

  Calm down? How could I be calm? My sister was dying, and I was about to be marked as a slave. How was I supposed to accept that?

  Tears streaked my face, but then my sister’s words echoed in my mind:

  'I build a wall in my mind. I imagine every fear and insecurity as bricks. Then, I use that wall as a barrier to the outside world. I shove all of my emotions behind that wall.'

  Her words settled deep within me. My world was crumbling, my heart was breaking, but my sister’s life depended on me.

  I would do anything for her.

  I would die a hundred deaths if it meant setting her free. So even as I shattered, I picked up those broken pieces and built that wall.

  And in that moment, something shifted inside me.

  I had received an Ability:

  Veil of Emptiness – This Ability allows the user to suppress all outward expressions of emotion, making their face an unreadable mask. While emotions may rage within, a rational part of their mind remains clear, enabling them to think logically even in the midst of turmoil. However, they cannot choose what to hide. Either everything is concealed, or nothing at all.

  I reached for it, and it responded instantly. My outside world became blank. Inside, I still felt the roaring storm of my emotions. Desperation and grief raged, but my face remained frozen. Like a puppet, my expression refused to react.

  My tears stopped. My breath evened. My body obeyed, even as my soul screamed.

  As I wiped my face, my father cocked his head and smiled. "Good. Perhaps you do know your duty. Now, brand yourself."

  Without hesitation, I stepped toward the branding iron glowing in the coals. Instead of looking at it, I stared straight into my father’s eyes. I wanted him to feel the weight of my choice. Then, with a dead, unblinking stare, I pressed the brand to my skin.

  The pain was unbearable. Every nerve burned in agony. Nothing was numbed.

  Inside, I was screaming. But there was another part that could still think, still reason, even as my emotions thrashed violently within.

  My father’s expression faltered. Watching me endure such pain without a single reaction unsettled him. His smirk faded into a frown. "Very well. You have earned your sister’s life today. Spend the night with her. Tomorrow, you will be moved into the main house."

  With that, he released his spell. My sister’s body crumpled to the ground, and two healers rushed to her side.

  My instincts screamed for me to run to her, but the rational side of me held firm. Instead, I watched my father walk away.

  No, not my father.

  My enemy.

  One day, I would show him his place.

  One day, I would blow this house down.

  When I finally walked to my sister, another healer approached me and began healing my arm. The emotional part of me embraced the relief, but the rational part saw only the mark left behind, the permanent brand of a slave, as a symbol of what I had lost.

  It took time, but eventually, my sister and I composed ourselves and left. I kept my wall up because, in a way, it brought comfort.

  "What is a concubine?" I asked.

  My sister didn't answer. She only held herself and cried.

  "Wake up. Wake up."

  I stirred, my body sluggish, but I didn’t fully rise. My memory of that day faded as consciousness took hold, but the anger remained.

  I remembered what my sister had traded to Tony for my freedom. I remembered hiding in a barrel as he tipped me off the side of the boat. I remembered what I had lost.

  "We’re going to miss Alf if we don’t leave soon," Kaylie said, nudging me one more time.