Beneath the Veil of Sins

Evelyne grew up amidst silver-threaded banners and marble halls, her childhood framed by discipline and quiet splendor. The Vargas family, renowned for their piercing eyes and silver hair, carried themselves with the weight of their noble lineage, steeped in wealth and tradition. Evelyne's days unfolded in rhythm with her parents' teachings. Mornings spent studying ledgers and maps with her father, and afternoons lost in the notes of her mother's harp.

Her father, the Marquess, had been a man of calculation. Evelyne admired his sharp mind and relentless work ethic, finding comfort in the certainty of numbers and strategy. Her mother, by contrast, was a tempest of perfection and grace. The Marchioness wielded her harp as deftly as any general commanded an army, her melodies shaping Evelyne's world with beauty and pressure in equal measure.

But Evelyne struggled to keep pace with her mother's brilliance. Her fingers stumbled over harp strings, her voice faltering during lessons. Each mistake earned her sharp reprimands, while her elder sister, Cristina, shone like the family's golden heirloom. Cristina's melodies flowed effortlessly, her movements embodying elegance Evelyne could never master. Yet, Evelyne held no resentment, only admiration for her sister's gift and poise.

As the sisters grew, their paths diverged naturally. Cristina embraced the arts, while Evelyne gravitated toward the intricacies of trade and governance. Evelyne's bond with her father deepened, and soon she became his confidant, learning to maneuver alliances and contracts with ruthless efficiency. Together, they built a legacy of stability and ambition, even as Cristina's performances filled their home with light and song.

But no melody could guard against tragedy.

The Vargas estate stood as a bastion of wealth and refinement until that fateful day. The morning began as any other, Evelyne and her father reviewed projections for the unveiling of their newest invention, a mana-infused device poised to revolutionize craftsmanship. Her mother decided to accompany him to the facility, her harp tucked into the carriage as if even industry required a touch of elegance. Cristina had a performance at a local event, so Evelyne stayed behind to accompany her. Together, they saw their parents off, their goodbyes laced with optimism and pride.

By dusk, optimism turned to dread.

An hour before Evelyne and Cristina's planned time to leave for the performance, a lone rider arrived at the gates, his face pale and eyes wild. He hurried to meet their grandparents, and Evelyne barely heard his words.

"An accident…" he said, his voice breaking. "The device malfunctioned. A mana overload...an explosion. A disaster." He faltered, and Evelyne's knees buckled.

Soon, a funeral unfolded beneath heavy skies. Rain blanketed the Vargas estate as though the heavens mourned with them. Evelyne stood by Cristina's side, their hands entwined like lifelines. Cristina's hand trembled faintly, but she stood straight, shoulders squared and gaze steady, refusing to cry, as though her strength alone could hold Evelyne together. Their grandparents, who had once stood as pillars of strength, now leaned heavily on each other, their frailty laid bare. Evelyne's mind was a storm of shattered memories.

As the caskets descended, Evelyne's breath caught. Her mind wandered, unbidden, to quiet mornings spent by her father's desk, the scent of ink and parchment lingering as he explained trade routes and market fluctuations. His voice had been steady, a shield against uncertainty. Her mother's music had filled those lessons like sunlight, weaving grace into the logic of numbers.

Now, both voices were gone, leaving silence heavier than the earth that covered their caskets.

When the last rites were spoken, Evelyne felt the ground beneath her shift, as though the foundation of her life had splintered irreparably.

But the wounds inflicted upon the Vargas family had not yet cut deep enough.

It was the acrid scent of smoke that woke Evelyne days later. Flames clawed at the walls, their glow painting the corridors in hellish shades of orange and red. Her breath caught as heat pressed against her skin, blistering even through layers of fabric. Smoke clawed at her throat, each breath a battle against suffocation. Flames licked the walls, devouring tapestries and banners. The silver crest embroidered on the carpet burned, its threads curling like dying embers beneath Evelyne's feet.

A sharp jolt snapped her out of the haze, and Evelyne found herself cradled in Cristina's trembling arms. Blood stained her sister's dress, streaked dark against soot and ash.

"Cristina…?" Evelyne's voice came out raw and broken.

Cristina's grip tightened. "Evelyne"

The word pierced through Evelyne's confusion.

"What's happening? Where are Grandmother and Grandfather?"

Cristina's face contorted, tears carving tracks through grime. "They're gone," she whispered. Her arms wrapped around Evelyne in a fierce, desperate hug.

Evelyne's breath hitched. "Gone? No… I—I just saw them. I don't understand."

Cristina drew back, her eyes hardening even as tears fell. "The Imperial Family..." Her voice cracked as a burning beam collapsed nearby, shaking the ground.

Cristina dragged Evelyne through blood-painted corridors toward the estate's hidden passage, where a carriage waited with a handful of terrified servants. The air was thick with panic, but Cristina's resolve held firm.

"Go north," she whispered, pressing the Vargas crest, a silver tree entwined with golden vines, into Evelyne's hands. "Find the Margrave of Ardane. Show him this and ask for residence."

Evelyne clung to her sister. "No! How could I leave you in this kind of situation?"

Cristina's expression twisted, grief and desperation warring in her eyes. "You must. You're the last hope for Vargas."

The words struck deep, but Evelyne's feet refused to move until the servants pulled her into the carriage.

Her cries echoed through the night as the inferno consumed her home. Through the smoke, she glimpsed Cristina standing tall, her soot-streaked figure illuminated by the flames. For a moment, Evelyne saw more than her sister, she saw her as the Vargas heir, unyielding, regal, and unbroken.

Then the roof caved in.

Evelyne's screams faded as the carriage rumbled away. The burning estate shrank into the horizon, leaving her staring at the rising smoke and smoldering ruins of her past.

Tears dried on her cheeks as the burning estate disappeared into the distance. Grief swirled with anger, sharp and blinding. 'Imperial Family'. Cristina's broken voice echoed in her mind.

'Why?'

The word burned hotter than the flames that swallowed her home.

Alone, burdened by loss and responsibility, Evelyne Vargas left the burning remnants of her childhood behind and went on the journey to the icy north.