Heir of Stardust and Secrets (Mythic Spark #1)

4. Dear Mrs. Erikson

Chapter 4

Dear Mrs. Erikson

E ithan’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 to take 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 something wrong with 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 a cursed changeling as 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 mean I was 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.

Silently berating myself, I doubled back .

Long past formalities, I let myself into Mrs. E’s. The smell of breakfast instantly consumed my senses.

“Hi, Mrs. E!” I called out as I took my coat off and hung it on the hook next to the door.

“Hello, dear. I’m in the kitchen, don’t mind your shoes.”

Ignoring her directive to trudge through her pristine home with my muddy boots, I left them on the stoop.

I found Mrs. E leaning over the suds-filled sink, washing dishes. The instant her hazel eyes found mine, they brimmed with delight. That cherished expression had always warmed my heart. This tiny woman, who only came up to my shoulders, had more love for me in her right pinky than my entire family combined.

My features mirrored hers as I leaned in. She wrapped her arms over my shoulders, forcing me to lean down and wrap mine around her torso as her soft floral scent flooded me while we embraced.

“Have a seat, sweetheart,” she said, stepping away for the singing kettle. I moved to grab it off the stove, and she cast a stern gaze my way. I abandoned any notion of helping, taking my usual seat across from hers.

The kitchen table was a masterpiece of hand-carved artistry. After all this time, I still marveled at the ornate detailing, often finding myself idly tracing its elegant patterns.

This room was undoubtedly my favorite in the manor; each corner echoed with cherished memories. Wall-to-wall paneled windows offered a stunning panoramic view of her sprawling estate. The property was encircled by meticulously tended gardens, which were bordered by the forest at its furthest reaches. A soft, butterscotch light from the morning sun flooded in, highlighting the rich tones of the mahogany flooring.

My teacup made a soft clink as Mrs. E placed it atop the matching saucer, which was next to a plate full of eggs, bacon, a bun, and fruit. Gods only knew where she sourced anything fresh this time of year. She brushed a hand across my back, rubbing it for a moment before settling into her own chair. The deeply spiced scent of the tea wafted up in her wake. I smiled, knowing it was double strength, just as I liked it.

“Happy birthday, Nyleeria.”

“Thank you, Mrs. E.”

I no longer protested when she fussed over me. She’d never had children of her own, and her husband had passed many moons ago. In a way, we’d become each other’s family.

“How was yesterday?” she asked, then tested her tea to check if it was cool enough. Evidently, it wasn’t.

“It was the usual for my parents.”

“No surprise there.” We’d both accepted them for who they were long ago.

“Nope. Not even a mention of it today. Although, I didn’t give them a chance.” I took a bite of the bread, still warm from the oven. I sighed. “This bun is wonderfully dulcet.”

She chuckled. Having an affinity for lexicography, she’d taught me to sprinkle in grandiloquent words in everyday settings—if for no other reason than because we could.

I pushed the strawberry preserves her way.

“Eithan and I trained yesterday. Oh, and look!” I turned to my rucksack and pulled out the dagger, handing it to her.

Mrs. E raised a delicate brow as she took in the blade’s details. “This is some fine craftsmanship. Where did that young man get the coin for this? And do you think it’s appropriate, Nyleeria?” Her lips pursed as she handed it back to me.

I held the dagger for a moment, retracing the swirls with a fingertip. I didn’t want to have this conversation.

“You know how he gets.” I shrugged. It was a bullshit response, and we both knew it. I put the blade away and avoided the look waiting for me.

“That boy loves you, Nyleeria. I’m not sure accepting it sends the right message.”

Feeling the weight of her gaze, I sighed and finally looked up. “I know, and we talked about it—well, not about the gift so much as him leaving.”

She looked at me over the rim of her teacup. “ Talked , hmm?”

“Yes, talked . We didn’t cross any lines.”

She lifted a brow in accusation, waiting for an honest answer. I raised my hands in defeat. “Alright, fine. We may have toed the line, but we stopped before it got too serious.”

She sat there, wielding her best interrogation tactic; silence.

Averting her deafening gaze, I caved. “I won’t condemn him to live here, with me.” It was a truth I’d never admitted aloud before.

“Oh, sweetheart. You need to trust that you’re just as worthy as Eithan, regardless of your family’s misguided beliefs. A child being cursed, how ridiculous,” she tsked as she stirred honey into her tea.

“Ha, tell that to all the eligible bachelors out here.”

“Don’t deflect, Nyleeria. Eithan and I both love you, and that’s all the proof you need.”

“Stars. He said the same thing to me yesterday. Even made me promise I’d leave if an opportunity presented itself.”

“Good. About time someone talked some sense into you.”

I chuckled, shaking my head in amusement.

“What else did you get up to yesterday?” she asked, taking a bite of the bread slathered in strawberries.

Grateful for the subject change, I filled her in.

After breakfast, we ventured outside through the patio doors off the kitchen. The intricate black-slate mosaic tiles were pleasantly warm against the soles of my feet as I ambled across the patio’s expanse to a small table.

Tucking myself into a chair, I took a moment to drink in the mountainous vista to the east. Spring’s melodious sounds of birdsongs and rustling new growth in the wind enveloped me as I settled in and sank into the recesses of my mind. I picked up a stack of playing cards on the table and absent-mindedly started to shuffle, the hypnotic sound of the cards pulling me deeper into my thoughts.

Disentwining myself from the labyrinth of contemplations, I noted that the cards were now sitting idly on the table, and my chin was resting on my knees—apparently, I’d stopped shuffling and had pulled my legs in toward my chest.

From the chair beside me, Mrs. E’s soft voice broke the silence. “Where did you just go, sweetheart?”

She’d always had an innate ability to hold space for me when I waded through a different realm.

“Everywhere,” I said, still staring off into the distance.

She sipped her tea and waited.

“Why wasn’t I good enough to be taken in, to be raised with Cassy and Leighton?” I asked. “What kind of person do you have to be to hold a child, an infant , and declare them cursed?” She continued to sit there quietly, giving me space. “Why is it that, no matter what I do, I’m never good enough?”

Countless more thoughts raced through my mind, but I didn’t want to say them aloud for fear their truth would be too heavy to bear. Eventually, they won out.

“I don’t know how to live without Eithan. I’m afraid I’m going to be alone forever—maybe that’s my curse.” There, I’d said it. The thoughts that had consumed my waking life. The ones I would never burden Eithan with.

Mrs. E leaned back in her chair and gazed out toward the distant forest. The words I shared became heavier with each second that passed in silence. She looked at me intently then, and I had to stop myself from turning away or shrinking back, afraid she might see the sorrow and all the broken bits that made me who I was.

Tilting her head slightly, she said, “What do you think I see when I look at you, Nyleeria?”

The question pierced me. I scrambled to understand, to comprehend what she meant. I searched for her truth in memories and words and histories. How did she see me? How did Eithan? My chest tightened, and phantom tears formed, but I bit them down as unending thoughts rushed through me: Nothing, worthless, poor, destitute, ugly, cursed. Worthless… Nothing… Cursed— the words yearning to jump from my mind to my tongue.

In a strangled voice, I said, “I honestly don’t know,” and the tears were no longer phantoms, now sliding out from their confines.

“I see a girl who has grown into a fine young woman. A beautiful, smart, witty, talented young woman. A woman who is of this place, but not tethered to it. One with a heart of gold, a zest for life, and, normally , an unwavering optimism that shatters the shackles others have tried to bind her with.” Her eyes glittered with tears of her own as she went on. “I know what it’s like to lose someone you love. To have your entire world shattered in an instant and not know how to go on. I know the heaviness that burrows itself into your heart and taints your soul.” She paused as if the gravity of those truths pressed upon her. “But I also know, Nyleeria, what it’s like to heal from that, to move on, and to craft a life of my own from the scraps that were left behind.”

She stood, walked over to my chair, and enveloped me in a comforting embrace.

I wept. Not just for Eithan, but for the cruelty of my past, the beliefs I was bound to, the deep hurt of my family’s apathy toward me, and for the little girl inside who just wanted to be loved.

After I calmed, she released me, handed me a tissue, poured me a fresh cup of tea from the ceramic tea pot on the table, and returned to her seat.

Nothing in my life had changed in those moments, but expressing my thoughts and letting the sorrow pour through my sobs, released a pent-up energy from within me I hadn’t realized I’d been carrying. I rarely let myself have dark thoughts or emotions, locking them away in a vault so deep that I’d forgotten they dwelled there. I was somehow lighter after allowing them to have their moment, and perhaps that was the first step toward keeping my promise to Eithan.

“What game do you want to play?” I asked, shuffling the cards.

She smiled broadly. “Dealer’s choice.”

And so, I dealt.

Mrs. E beat me handily at cards more times than I cared to admit before we broke for lunch. We headed inside and grabbed a platter of food before heading back out to the patio.

“Cassy and Leighton are due soon, no?” she asked about the twins while placing the food on the table.

I reached for a bun. “The end of next week.”

“Are your grandparents coming too?”

My hands squished the soft roll in response. “No,” I said, the word coming out harsher than intended—I didn’t enjoy their visits.

On the rare occasions my grandparents joined the twins, all four of them stayed elsewhere. But when it was just Cassy and Leighton, I was forced to relinquish my room for their comfort. Being relegated to the couch took away what little privacy I had, so during their visits, I would spend as much time in the forest as I could. Mrs. E had invited me to stay with her in the past, but my parents forbade it and she’d honored their decision, even if she didn’t agree with it.

“And Eithan, when is he leaving?”

“The day before.”

“Well, that’s unfortunate timing.”

I snorted. “That’s one way to put it.”

“How long are they here for?”

“Only a week.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, they’re just passing through. I guess they have a tutor of some sort down south. I’m not sure of the details.” Nor did I care.

“Well, a week, you can do that. At least it’s not a month this time. And, of course, you’re always welcome to come by as often as you like.”

“I know, thank you,” I said, and silently thanked the stars for Mrs. E. “So, what game would you like to beat me at next?” I smiled at her and handed her the deck of cards .

She shuffled them and gave me a grin, letting me know that no matter what game she chose, she would have no mercy. When it came to cards, she never did.