NOVEL NEXT CHAPTER ONE - PERFECTION
Beads of sweat trickled down light golden skin sprinkled with brown freckles, hands stinging raw and red as the flog was whipped down once more against her outward palms. Naomi bit the insides of her cheeks as she stifled her cries, knowing that any sign of weakness would result in even greater punishment. In front of her, Duchess Rosenthorn snapped the flog back to her side, her aging beauty twisted with cruelty. With not a single strand of golden hair out of place, she took a single step towards her daughter.
Her mother's voice was firm and judgemental, requiring no eye contact to know her face was lined with a lifetime of disappointment. "Do you understand where you made your mistake?"
"Yes, Mother," Naomi responded with as much courage as she could.
"Then fix it, and recite the chant again."
Naomi swallowed hard as she pulled her hands back into a shaking clench, sparks of light emitting feebly. In the presence of her mother, first time mistakes were almost intolerable; second mistakes were forbidden. She unclasped her hands once more as she murmured the scripture, light beginning to illuminate from her palms. She knew that today would be her last chance to perfect it before her trial tomorrow in public view. If she thought her mother was judgmental, she didn't want to think of the entirety of high society looking upon her.
The first verse came flawlessly, though as she began the second verse, the radiance began to sputter again - all too raw and uncontrolled - spilling out in uncoordinated flashes. Naomi's body shook as she desperately attempted to quell her powers, but not before she felt the hot strike of her mother's hand against her cheek with such force that her small body was thrusted against the ground. The taste of salty metallic rushed into her mouth as she held back another cry, the agonizing sting of the flog slicing her exposed legs. Her mother's heels clicked closer before she kneeled down ever so slightly, the light of the room shaping sharp shadows from beneath her regal features.
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"You are not some feral child from the North, so why do you wield your powers like one?" Duchess Rosenthorn hissed. "Your gifts exist by Lunare's mercy and our family's perseverance to continue our lineage. Yet here you are, squandering your magic and tarnishing the Rosenthorn name - and by extension, the people of Monroe."
Naomi's throat tightened as the room shrunk around the two of them, her cheek throbbing with red. Their family's reputation - her mother's highest priority - was always twisted in her mother's mouth, ready to be weaponized at any moment. Even though she was one of the very few bestowed with their long-deceased moon goddess's powers, Naomi could never seem to prove to be enough.
Her mother struck the flog against the ground as Naomi flinched, the sound thundering around the room. "The North deserves nothing of recognition, yet they got all the glory for contributing to Calypsa's reign. And what of us? Nothing. Do not give them cause to mock Monroe's legacy any further. Not tomorrow, not ever."
Naomi forced herself to nod, blinking back tears before the duchess could see them. She was old enough to understand: her mother's fear was not simply of Naomi's own feelings of inadequacy, but rather the humiliation of their family's name before southern society, and especially of their northern rivals. At some point or another, Naomi would have to be introduced publicly to the nation of their kingdom, Calypsa. There was no choice other than perfection once that time came.
Lunare's blessings were always spoken of in Monroe as a gift, but in moments like this, Naomi thought it was foolish of the goddess to have torn her own eye simply to grant mortals free will. After all, it ultimately ended in her own demise anyway, when the original Pillars of Magic - greedy, insatiable power-hungry humans - sought her second eye. They had been the cause of the first Conquest that caused their great continent to fracture into two separate kingdoms, Calypsa and Seraveth, though it was said no descendants existed. But now, the cold tension of the North and South borders were proving great strife for the kingdom once more.
As the heavy silence settled, Naomi swallowed the copper taste in her mouth and whispered, "It won't happen again, Mother."
Her mother's cold, blue eyes bore into her own identical set. "No, it won't."