West Monroe, Louisiana
In the year 1417
on a cold and chilling night, the town was bathed in the soft glow of torches and the flickering light of candles. The winding streets were lined with timber-framed houses, their thatched roofs a deep shade of brown, and the smell of woodsmoke and damp earth filled the air. The markets were still bustling with activity, despite the late hour, and the dirty streets were crowded with people haggling over goods.
A figure in a red hoodie walked through the winding streets, her footsteps quiet on the cobblestones. She moved with a purpose, her eyes fixed on the alleyway ahead. As she walked, the hood cast a shadow over her face, but her bright blue eyes sparkled in the dim light.
She entered her apartment, a small, cozy space with a thatched roof and a wooden door adorned with intricate carvings. She pushed back her hood, revealing a young girl with high cheekbones, rosy cheeks, and curly brown dark hair braided in a medieval princess style. The braids were woven with threads of gold and silver, and adorned with small, shimmering gemstones. Her petite frame and elegant features seemed almost doll-like, but her eyes sparkled with a fierce inner light.
She walked into a room, lit by flame torches that cast flickering shadows on the walls. The room was decorated with tapestries and rugs, and a large wooden table stood in the center. An elderly man, about 40 years old, stood by the table, wearing a white tunic dress and black hose and boots. He was a handsome man, with a strong jawline and piercing brown eyes. His dark hair was cut short, and his beard was neatly trimmed. He turned to leave the room when he saw his daughter, and called out, "Rhyn!"
Rhyn's eyes locked onto his, and she said, "I know how you want to get rid of my brother."
Josef's expression turned stern, and he said, "Stay out of this, Rhyn. The lad is not your brother, but your stepbrother, and the elimination is for our safety."
Rhyn's face twisted in anguish, and she said, "I loved him like a brother, and we are both from the same mother. I won't watch you murder Fredrick. I'll prevent it."
Josef's eyes widened in alarm, but before he could react, Rhyn spoke a spell that afflicted him with a searing headache. He clutched his head, grunting in pain, and tried to use his magic energy to resist. But Rhyn's anger and determination were too strong, and she caused a serious eruption in his brain.
Josef fell to the floor, his eyes open and bleeding, his ears and nose streaming with blood. Rhyn sank to the ground, calling out "Father! Father!" But there was no response. She knew she had killed him, and she cried out in anguish, her tears streaming down her face as she clutched her dead father to her.
Just then, her stepmother Selah entered the room, and saw Josef's lifeless body. "What happened to him?" she asked, her voice cold and detached.
Rhyn looked up, her eyes red-rimmed with tears, and said, "I killed him. I never meant to, but I had to."
Selah's face twisted in rage, and she said, "You killed your father, your own blood. You are a monster." She raised her hands, and a spell brought forth fire from her fingers.
But Rhyn was ready, and she repelled the magic with a spell of her own. She stood up, a smirk spreading across her face, and said, "I had to, for the love I have for my brother. He must be kept alive."
With a flick of her wrist, Rhyn spoke a spell that caused Selah to incinerate in her very own eyes. The woman's screams were music to Rhyn's ears, and her smirk grew wider as she watched her stepmother burn. The flames seemed to dance in the darkness, casting flickering shadows on the walls as Rhyn stood tall, her eyes blazing with a fierce inner light.
**********
PRESENT DAY
WEST MONROE, LOUISIANA
Lucian sat in his car, drumming his fingers softly on the steering wheel as he waited for the traffic light to turn green on Cypress Street in West Monroe, Louisiana. The late afternoon sun cast a warm glow through the windshield, highlighting the sharp lines of his face. His dark hair was neatly styled, a contrast to the slightly tired look in his piercing blue eyes—eyes that often seemed to see more than people wanted to show. Tall and lean, Lucian carried himself with a quiet intensity that often made others take notice without quite knowing why.
He glanced at his watch. He had a therapy session with a client soon, and he wasn't sure if he'd make it on time. Just then, his phone chimed. It was a message from Dr. Jane, his colleague at the mental health clinic on North 7th Street.
"Hey, Lucian, just a heads up—I covered for you and treated the case well. Hope you're doing okay."
Lucian tapped out a quick reply.
"Thanks, Jane. I'm on my way. Traffic is killing me."
As he looked up, the light turned green, and the cars began to move. Lucian ignited his engine and drove off, heading down Cypress Street toward the clinic.
He arrived a few minutes later and parked his car in the lot beside the modest, brick-fronted building. As he stepped out, he took a deep breath, letting the humid Louisiana air settle his nerves. The day had already felt too long.
Dr. Jane, a tall woman in her early forties with a calm demeanor and kind hazel eyes, greeted him in the hallway with her usual warm smile and handed him a cup of coffee.
"Thanks for covering for me, Jane. I appreciate it," Lucian said, taking a sip.
"You're welcome, Lucian. I've got your back," she replied, her voice light but sincere.
Lucian made his way to his office and began arranging his files on the desk, organizing the notes he'd need for the session. Just then, his phone rang.
"Your client is waiting in room 304," a male voice informed him.
He made his way to the room, pausing at the door to smooth his shirt and compose himself. He knocked softly, then stepped inside.
A young man looked up from his seat. Lucian offered a warm, reassuring smile.
"Good morning, I'm Lucian. It's nice to meet you. Please, make yourself comfortable," he said, extending his hand.
The young man, Alex, shook it hesitantly. Lucian immediately noticed the faint sadness in his eyes—the kind that lingered behind even the most polite smiles. He made a mental note to proceed gently.
"So, Alex, how are you doing today?" Lucian asked, taking a seat across from him, his tone calm and non-judgmental.
Alex sighed, eyes dropping to his hands. "I'm... I'm not doing great, to be honest."
Lucian nodded empathetically. "I'm sorry to hear that. Can you tell me more about what's been going on? You mentioned in our initial consultation that you'd lost your mother recently. How are you coping with that?"
Alex's eyes welled up as he began to speak. "It's just been really tough. She was my rock, you know? And now that she's gone, I feel lost. I don't know how to deal with all the responsibilities and stress—especially with exams coming up at the university."
Lucian listened intently, maintaining gentle eye contact and offering quiet nods of encouragement.
"I can imagine how difficult this must be for you," he said. "Losing a loved one is never easy, and trying to keep up with academic pressure on top of that can feel overwhelming. Can you tell me more about what's been most challenging with school right now?"
Alex hesitated. "I just feel like I'm not doing well enough. I'm struggling to focus, and I'm afraid I'll fail. My mom was always there to encourage me, and now... it feels like I'm on my own."
Lucian leaned in slightly, his voice steady and sincere. "It sounds like you're carrying a lot. That fear of failure, the loneliness—those are heavy burdens. But you're not alone in this. Many students go through similar struggles, especially after a loss. And we're going to take this one step at a time, together."
A flicker of hope crossed Alex's face.
Lucian continued, "Let's start by focusing on your strengths. What are some things you know you're good at? What coping tools have helped you in the past?"
As Alex began to open up more, Lucian offered encouragement and gentle guidance. His approach was calm, grounded—never rushed.
"Alex," Lucian said softly, "it's okay to not be okay. But I want you to know that you do have the strength to get through this. We'll build a plan that helps you manage the stress and honor your mom's memory in a meaningful way."
Alex nodded, a tentative but genuine smile forming. Lucian smiled back, sensing the first spark of progress between them.