Author's Note: Hey guys, a name change has occurred, and that means free new author's notes for everyone! What was previously "The Bonds of Fate" will now be called "Ravaged Bonds." If you still remembered the previous name and make yourself known, I'll give you a nice, fat, homemade snickerdoodle.

Disclaimer: I do not own the world of, nor the idea of, Golden Sun. The title, as well as a great majority of the Psynergies are not my own, but the characters and this place . . . yeah, those are mine.

Ravaged Bonds Chapter 1: A Pleasant Reunion

Ofttimes it is the past that drives us beyond comprehension, creating the bonds of fate that nothing can sever, even across the seascape of time.

The morning chapel bell sounded off in its usual dulcet tone, and the sleepy manor started to spark into life after its long rest. The sun may not have been up just yet, but the rosy strands of dawn that flickered on the eastern horizon told that daybreak was imminent.

The girl was not as cheerful as the bell, however, and rolled around her bed, trying her best to avoid the clear, penetrating ring that travelled through the pillow wrapped around her ears and through the linen bedsheets. If there was something she could not stand, it was getting up in the morning. As time progressed, she realised that, like every other day, it was impossible to avoid the chipper noises it made. Groaning a bit, she exited her bed, scooting out from underneath the blankets and landing into the awaiting slippers on the floor near the headboard.

The youth yawned and stretched out her limbs before patting down her maroon silken nightshirt and pants, and walked over to the window to part the curtains more from their half-open state. She smiled as she beheld the glorious sunrise that only happened here in the Isles, the one thing in the world that gave her hope for the rest of the day besides her most trusted companion.

Her smirk continued to go wider as she recalled him and the silly adventures that they had underwent last night. He was not exactly her brother, but he was so similar to one that she erased the border between close friend and sibling altogether. They had been through the thickest of times together, and she cherished their siblinghood more than anything.

The girl shook her head free of thought and traversed the room to the vanity mirror on top of a nearby dresser, simpering and giggling as she witnessed her reflection.

She was not altogether proud, but she did enjoy her appearance, regardless of how tangled and matted her hair was at the moment. She had her mother's raven-black hair that coiled down to the base of her shoulder blades and her father's morose amber eyes and olive skin tone, perhaps the only three qualities that she enjoyed sharing with them. High cheekbones pronounced themselves mildly, a trait that had passed through her mother's side of the family yet passed over her generation, and a thin nose and mouth completed the rest of her features.

Finding everything but her hair in order, she locked the door to her room to doff her nightclothes and take up the outfit she chose for today. Unlike her supposed friends that shared ancestries similar to her own, she did not care for stuck-up outfits and personal baubles. Simple, comfortable clothing were what she preferred rather than the overly flagrant or showy garments. She despised dressing into those restrictive and itchy outfits for the parties that her parents hosted every so often. She felt that she couldn't bear acting as dignified as possible while suitors of noble houses wooed and adults used her as if she were eye candy. She was a free spirit at heart, desirous to be somewhere else and enjoy herself instead of being locked in the gilded cage of decency.

After slipping into one of her favourite soft red dresses, she scooped up her hairbrush that rested at the base of the vanity mirror and sat down on her bedside. She looked all around her room, noting the fact that everything looked like a massive typhoon had struck followed by a sizeable earthquake. She shrugged her shoulders mid-stroke and laughed to herself about the time that her parents stepped in and said that.

"Avvie!" called out a voice from outside her door, followed by an obnoxious pounding on the door. She practically tore her hair out by the roots with her brush as she leapt to her feet in case the speaker came into her room, quite forgetting about the lock. "Wake up, you lout, and get ready for breakfast!"

The young woman breathed a sigh of relief and chuckled to herself as she recognised the voice of her brother. They both called each other the rudest names in the morning for a good laugh.

"I'm up already, moron!" she shouted back, setting the brush aside and rushing to the door to open it. As soon as the handle raised, the door unlocked with a tiny metal click and she opened it to spot him with his hand outstretched to knock the door again.

Her brother was small for his age, only a year younger than she was and with a head an inch below her own. He was fully garbed in his customary clothing, a linen tunic of lesser quality than the ones she wore, but still just as comfortable. Sandy blond hair dangled in front of his eyes and dribbled down the sides of his head, showing that he definitely had not taken care of his bedhead. Soft amber eyes peered out from underneath his thick bangs, and a mischievous smile crossed his face widely.

"Hello, misfit!" he greeted, rapping his knuckles on her forehead as if it were the door itself.

"Ow, hey!" she responded, holding a hand up to where the triple knock was performed and rubbing it in a wounded manner. "That hurt, you know!"

"Pfft, I doubt it did, nerd, but I'm sorry anyways," he responded apologetically, wrapping his arm around her for a moment and hugging her lightly. "But you don't want to be late for breakfast, now do you?"

The small glow of red formed on her cheeks as she giggled, and she shoved him back into the hallway before shutting the door behind them. The warm air that wafted into her nostrils smelled delightful, and she grinned over to her brother before rushing speedily towards one end of the double stairwell.

"Race you down!" she called out over her shoulder, slowing slightly to watch for a reaction.

He didn't bat an eyelash, and she stopped at the summit of the stair arc. They had races every part of the day, and she questioned herself what was so different with him today. Was he really just going to stand there, or was he saying with that she was getting too childish? The thoughts chased each other around her head like dogs with their tails, and she waited for him to do something, anything at all, at the summit of the staircase.

"You coming, Wolfe?" she asked him, giving him the look of the century. "I'll give you a headstart!" she added in a teasing manner, even though she knew he would never buy that.

"I'll catch up," he responded, not budging an inch. She shot a laugh through her nose before descending down the stairs, taking her time as she did.

"My, how arrogant he's gotten all of a sudden," she said to herself under her breath, keeping an eye on him as she descended one of the double staircases. He returned her gaze with that irritating smirk awash over his face, and it took most of her will to prevent herself from rushing down to hasten the moment. She looked back down to her feet, pondered exactly what he was thinking and shrugged after not coming up with any ideas.

The rustling of clothing behind her attracted her attention completely, and she froze in place near the base to watch him in his fruitless attempt to catch up. She gasped and felt the sadistic joy drift away. He was on the handrail between the two floors, both feet planted soundly underneath him and his hands at the sides. He looked down to the small, unlit study below with a quiet, focused gaze.

"W-Wolfe!" she shouted frantically, absolutely terrified of what he was doing. "Get off of there this instant! This isn't funny!"

"Don't worry, Av. I'll be safe," he uttered. A small smile reappeared on his face, but, unlike the first one, it was soft and reassuring.

"W-why? What are you planning t—"

Wolfe left the balcony, coiled in a small ball as he headed down into the gloom with only a foot extended from his frame. The girl screamed his name, wanting to stop him, but her legs were frozen in place. It was impossible to do so even if she willed them into action, however, and a small thud sounded out.

Seconds seemed like millennia of fear, but there he was, on the floor, safe and sound and standing up to glance up at her. A wave of air passed across the entire room like a soft breeze, refreshing her from fainting on the spot.

"I told you I'd be safe," Wolfe replied, much to her disdain.

She left the last few steps and ran over to him across the oaken floor before looking him over carefully. Nothing seemed broken, and there wasn't a single sign of injury whatsoever.

"H-how . . . ?" was the only thing she was able to say as she fumbled for words.

"I'll tell you later," he answered, much to her displeasure. She wanted to demand a response, but she forced a quiet over herself. He smiled wider, knowing that, and continued, "So, I won, right?"

That doomed her patience as she slapped him hard with her right hand. Brother or not, he deserved it.

"Idiot! Do you know how worried I was?" she screamed at him as he held his cheek with a cupped hand.

"I wanted to surprise you," he laughed, albeit with an added grunt to fend off the pain of the slap. He always was the wimpier between the two of them.

"Well, you did!" she spat angrily, giving him a spiteful glare and putting her hands on her hips.

"All right, what's the commotion?"

They both turned their heads to see the girl's father approaching, a well-built man with an angry expression on his ruddy face and sharp, aquiline features. He was dressed up in noble attire, a robe that was sable on one side and a pale grey on the other, and had a mug of steaming liquid in one of his hands that she immediately recognised to be coffee.

He glared at the two of them pitilessly with his stalwart amber eyes, waiting for an explanation from either of them for being so rowdy this morning.

"W-well, you see . . ." she started out, pondering about what to say. If she were to tell the truth, he wouldn't believe her, and if she didn't, it would have to be good. "Er, we were, um, having a race downstairs and, ah—"

"We just were playing, sir," Wolfe joined in, and the girl breathed in a relieved sigh.

"Oh?" queried the father with a sharp raise of an eyebrow.

Wolfe nodded, not changing a tactic.

"I was just teasing her. I took her ribbon, you see."

A low, displeased sigh sounded out from the father, and he shook his head grouchily.

"Well, give it back," the father responded, his eyebrows lowering so that his eyes were shrouded. "You need to grow up. In your late teens, and you both are still acting like kids. I worry about his influence on you, Avdotya."

Without another word, he turned around, took a sip out of his mug, and walked away, leaving the two staring with only their thoughts for company.

"Well, that wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it would be," Wolfe spoke after a moment of silence. "I don't think he will ever warm up to me."

Avdotya rolled her shoulders and sighed, averting her eyes from the hallway where her father went.

"Sure he will. He just needs more time to get to know you."

"Avvie, it's been six years, and he hardly gives me a second look without a hint of disgust. He even thinks I'm nothing more than a hindrance to you. I just don't get it."

"Just give him time," she smiled, giving him a friendly slug on the shoulder. "He'll warm up to you eventually, and when that day comes, you will be begging to get him off of your shoulders."

"First off, that day'll never happen," he grinned wolfishly, rubbing his shoulder. "Second off, ow."

"Pfft, you're such a weakling," she teased, brushing back a few bangs that had drifted in front of her forehead. "You should try to join a sparring exercise with Dad and me. That'll build some muscle on your bones."

"Me?" he murmured, his eyes widening to the size of golf balls. "You know how bad I am with swords. And, besides, I still haven't told you what happened earlier."

Her ears perked and her head tilted, meaning that she was almost begging for an answer. He looked at her, opened his mouth to speak, closed it again, and patted her on the head roughly.

"Just messing with you," Wolfe continued, a smug smirk on his face before he started to walk down to the hallway. "Now come on before the meal gets cold, fool!" he called out over his shoulder.

She glowered at him and stamped her foot, absolutely furious.

"You always do that . . ." she grumbled under her breath, but still she smiled. "One day I'll be able to force it out of you, and when that day happens, you'd better watch what you say! Hey! wait up, moron!" she shouted after him, yet she soon realised that he did the mirror opposite. Her eye twitching angrily, she matched his pace. "Oh-h-h, it's on now!"

The day came and went in its usual slow pace, and both siblings were under a cloud of boredom from their classes. Being forced to take them under the guiding wing of the private tutor was one thing, but to bear with it was another. The teacher was a moderately pudgy person, with a small and wide nose similar to a pig's, a semi-dirty appearance yet primly kempt hazel comb-over, and a snake's glance that was both spiteful and dreadful. There was no way to get on his good side, and no way to avoid his worst.

Avdotya and Wolfe hated him fiercely. Tutor Rhado was hardly even a good teacher and punished every little thing they did with a chastising lecture. Whenever his back was turned, they joked about his mannerisms and elicited wide grins at the cartoon drawings that they had made on the slate writing slabs that were provided to them. Though he never caught them once red-handed, he knew that they were doing something mischievous and rewarded it with a manual chore.

Once he had left and the final nobility class had ended for Avvie, the two reunited, said their usual farewell to the angry chap, and breathed out a sigh of relief, knowing that the stranglehold on their day was over.

"What kind of rubbish did he fill your head with this time?" Wolfe teased, tossing a light fist into Avdotya's shoulder.

She laughed lightly and returned the favour with more force.

"Some crud about lady mannerisms, sipping tea with one pinky out, and how to suck in when forced to wear a corset."

"Brutal," he grinned, eliciting out a voluntary shudder and making sure she noticed it.

"That's easy for you to say!" she exclaimed, placing her hands on her hips. "You don't have to be spoon-fed this tripe with a straight face! You don't even have to wear a corset!"

"I know that, I know that," Wolfe chuckled, raising his hands in front of him to calm her down. "You should learn to take a joke once in a while, Avvie."

"Whatever," she laughed, loosening her stance and balancing on the balls of her feet. "So what do you want to do today? We could go spook some cattle again in the fields . . . ooh, or we could do a small duel! No need to worry; I'll take it easy on you!" she added with a wink.

"Not to interrupt your gloating," he chuckled as he headed to the door, "but I have other plans for today."

"What?" Avdotya exclaimed again. "You don't mean to say you've got other friends than myself, do you?" she added with a small smile.

"I made plans with Isha today. You remember her, don't you?"

"Oh, the Mars Adept that came back to town a few weeks ago? I never, ever would have thought that you two would've been friends. Say, you're not telling me something, aren't you?" she spoke teasingly, albeit with curiosity as well.

"What? No, of course not," he responded, giving her a small grin. "We were friends before my. . . ." He halted mid-sentence, looking down at the carpet gloomily before he stepped towards his boots, lying next to several others on a mud rag next to the door. "Before my parents died. . . ."

Avvie opened her mouth and closed it again.

"I'm . . . I'm sorry," she apologised, looking down as guilt swept over her. It has always been a touchy subject with him when she asked about his parents, and the pain that crept over his face when they were mentioned was instantly recalled. "I . . . I shouldn't have brou—"

"It's fine," Wolfe replied quickly, setting his feet inside of his shoes. "I promise I'll come back early, yes?"

"Sure," she answered with a false smile, watching him as he opened and closed the portal behind him without a goodbye. "Have fun, Wolfe . . ." she whispered, stepping away and heading back up the staircase.

"You seem tired . . . is something the matter?"

Wolfe glanced from his blank stare at the horizon and over to his companion.

They each were sitting on one of the large fence posts near the cattle farm that her parents used to own, overlooking the grassy plains that rolled along the land before crashing into a beachscape. The fence was weathered and broken in areas, but since there were no cows in it for years, that was acceptable by their small island community. Cattle-farming was the town's livelihood, as well as growing and exporting tubers and cultured cheeses. The volcanic soil naturally refreshed itself each year with resources, adding to the prosperity of the small community.

Anyone would have thought of his companion as a very comely person, her crimson hair spanning down beyond her neck in long strands and blowing in the island breeze. Elfin features were able to be seen underneath the thick bangs that loomed over her visage, as well as amethyst eyes that were dim with worry. The Dartmouth-green silk tunic she wore matched her nicely, and Wolfe thought he detected the slightest amount of lipstick on her thin lips. She and her family must have been very well-to-do, but he didn't want to be rude and ask about it.

"Nothing is the matter, Isha," he spoke, emitting a small smile at her. "I guess I'm just happy to see that things are like what they used to be."

She smiled in turn and glanced down shyly. That was yet one thing that had not changed since their last encounter so many years back.

"I am happy as well, if only to be back with you, Wolfie," she responded, using his old nickname when they were kids. Wolfe couldn't hold back a laugh as he remembered it and brushed the hair at the back of his head in embarrassment.

"You left so suddenly that I wasn't able to say goodbye seven years hence. What can we do to make them up?" he queried, turning in her direction.

"I don't know. Unlike you and this place, everything else has changed. Nobody recognises my face anymore, but everyone knows my name. It is just so strange to see what a few years would do. . . ."

He nodded and hopped off of the fence post, landing with a soft thud in the grassy soil. She heard this and looked over fearfully.

"A-ah, I hope I didn't bore you into leaving. . . ."

"What? Of course not," he laughed, coming closer to her and leaning against the square-cut fence. "Why don't we visit our old hideaway for old times' sake?" he asked with a smile.

"You remember where it is?" she inquired in turn, the sides of her mouth lifting slightly.

"Of course! I still frequent the place sometimes. So how about it?"

Isha slid off of the post and stepped towards him, a shy smile on her face.

"I'd be glad to, Wolfie," she responded, walking to his side. "I missed the place very much after moving away. Please, lead on."

He couldn't help but smile at her request and stepped towards the road. The rustling of her clothing from behind him told that she was following closely, but every time he attempted to catch sight of her eyes, she turned away to dodge his own. She was hiding something, he knew, but what it was, he had no idea. Even though he burned with curiosity, he stayed silent, and so did she.

Wolfe and Isha stepped through the thicker part of the forest in the northern part of the isle, a small uninhabited place with very few roads and scarce travelers. The roads were unnecessary, as the forest floor was set ablaze often to reduce insect growth and for lumber reasons, but there they were, light ecru streaks heading down into the descending forest. The afternoon sun poured through whatever opening it could find in the dense deciduous canopy, lighting small patches yet withholding from the majority of the forest area. A warm, briny breeze flitted into their faces, and Wolfe allowed himself a smile as he felt it; they were almost there.

"It's just up ahead," he spoke to Isha at his side, pointing up at the clearing up in front of both of them.

She glanced up from her pacing steps to follow his finger and looked her head again. Wolfe wondered what she was thinking about that kept her silent for so long. Every time he tried to make conversation, she responded just enough and dropped the topic by staring at her feet. The entire matter was awkward for him. Childhood friends, and neither were able to make lively conversation.

They stepped into the clearing, a small copse of trees that allowed sunlight to fall on a wide-spreading array of red, bifurcated lilies. The Isle of Palmaria was the only place where they existed, and the sight of them was rare to see for those who never went up into the forest before. Isha could not help but pluck one near her feet, and breathed in the aroma with pleasure. It was sweet and pungent, yet had a bitter scent to it as well.

"If only you had come back sooner," Wolfe spoke up from behind her, a tinge of regret in his tone. "They were in full bloom half a moon ago and were everywhere in the forest, but now they only grow around here."

She laughed as she turned to face him, the flower dropping back into the midst of its live companions.

"Full bloom or not, I love them all the same. It's been so long since I've smelled a dove-tail," she commented, smiling lightly over to him.

Wolfe returned the smile and stared out at the lone, tall figure standing in the centre of the copse. It was an apple tree, a patriarch of its kind on the island that stood sentry over the young plants that surrounded it. It was definitely barren from its old age, as the moss and lichen that encompassed the base of the trunk revealed, but the branches were still as sturdy as they have been in their youth. Leaves covered the furthest branches, whereas its top gradually became barren of any at all.

"Do you remember those days as well as I do, Wolfie?" Isha queried with a blush as she noticed where he was staring off towards.

"Perhaps better," he answered with a chuckle. "C'mon, race you to it."

The two sped through the large flowerbed towards the tree, Wolfe in the lead, of course, because of his unfair advantage and Isha right behind him and matching his pace. He laughed to himself, knowing that he would win for sure, before Isha shot in front of him faster than he had thought possible for her. She tapped the tree first, with his hand following within the second. Both huffed and puffed from the exerted energy, and she was the first to droop onto one of the gnarled "seats" that Granddaddy Apple had provided for them.

"Where'd you . . . learn to run like that . . . ?" gasped Wolfe as he struggled for breath and answers, staring at his childhood companion in disbelief.

"Don't underestimate me, Wolfie," she spoke, catching her breath and grinning. "I'm an Adept after all."

He looked at her as if she grew another eye on her forehead.

"What does that even have to do with anything?" he scoffed lightly, making sure to grin in turn.

She laughed and shrugged.

"Before I was an Adept, I felt powerless, but now that I am one, I can actually do stuff. You remember how frail I was? Well . . . now I think I can beat you at anything and everything," she answered in a faux gloating manner, knowing it would get his pride riled.

"You beat me at everything? Hah! That's laughable!" he exclaimed with a wide-sweeping grin. "Maybe some things, but everything?"

"E-ver-y-thing," she said with crystal clear pronunciation with an afterwards laugh. "I'd love to prove it to you, too."

"And to think that you looked afraid of me," replied in a half-jesting manner. "Whatever happened to the shy you?"

"H-huh? Oh . . ." she uttered, suddenly looking down. Wolfe felt that he should have smacked himself for such a poor choice of words, and was about to speak again, but she raised her head before he could voice anything. "Well . . . I suppose you played a part in that," she smiled, blushing a mild rouge.

He chuckled.

"Well, whatever happened, I like it better," he admitted with a grin, sitting down finally on a root similar to her own.

Another silence was triggered, Isha too embarrassed to speak and Wolfe unable to think of anything to say.

"Uhm . . ." he started off after a minute, laughing hesitantly and turning towards her again, "if it's not too much to ask, where did you go? In fact, why did you go? I thought your family would stay here for as long as they lived."

Isha's head shot in his direction for an instant before she looked away slowly.

"Now that's . . . difficult to explain . . ." she answered in a slight whisper, leaving the sandals on the ground as she brought her legs up to her chest. "It's not something I want to talk about now, either, I'm sorry."

Wolfe tilted his head before nodding hesitantly.

"I see . . ." he responded, looking down into his lap. "It had to do with your mom, didn't it?"

She frowned and scooted up into a ball even further, hugging her legs tightly as she started to cry into them.

"I said I don't want to talk about it. Can't you just leave it alone?" she sobbed.

Wolfe found himself only able to look at her piteously, questioning what he had done to cause her to be like this. Biting down on his lip, he got up partially and sat closer to her.

"Isha, hey, I'm sorry, okay?" he apologised. "I didn't mean anything by it, or even to make you cry. Please just . . . stop crying, okay?"

The red-head glanced up from her knees and towards him before wiping her cheeks back into their dry state.

"I'm sorry . . . I shouldn't be like this. Adepts don't cry, now do they?"

Wolfe shook his head and frowned.

"What kind of nonsense is that? Of course they cry when they feel the urge to, or they wouldn't be human otherwise! I just don't want to see you cry. . . ."

The tears stopped flowing, and Wolfe saw the flicker of a small smile on her lips as she turned to face him.

"Thanks, Wolfie . . ." she uttered softly, placing her hand on his. "You're . . . a good friend."

Wolfe smirked a bittersweet smile and looked away.

"Good friends don't make each other cry. Look, whatever happened earlier . . . I am sorry. I may not know what it was about, but I am sorry. . . ."

"Just forget about it," Isha responded, her hand leaving his own before she pulled him into a loose hug. He returned it lightly, and shortly after she broke away. "Um . . . Wolfe . . ." she voiced weakly, her eyes drifting downwards, "there is something that I. . . ." She trailed off, turning back around to hide a faint blush.

"Something on your mind?" rejoined Wolfe, glancing back over to her with a slight frown. She was starting to recede back into her shy bubble again, but as to why, he had no idea.

"N-nothing . . . I was just thinking that . . . that we should get back. The sun is starting to set, after all."

His eyes drifted off to the western horizon, noticing the small tints of oranges and reds in the sky as the sun passed through the trees. The rays made the trees appear to shine on their own, a marvel to behold as the silhouettes of their shadows passed across the both of them.

"My my, it seems time has slipped by without my knowing," he grinned as he raised himself. "But then again, six years passed in a blink with your absence . . . it was a bore without you being here. I hope that doesn't happen for a long, long time, yes?" he continued, holding out his hand.

She glanced up at him and let out a small, single laugh, happily receiving it and being pulled upright.

"You won't get rid of me that easily," she responded, a smirk building up. "You have my word on that."

"I look forward to putting you to the test then," he teased with an added wink. "Let's get you back; I'm sure that your family is waiting for you."

She laughed hesitantly and patted down the wrinkles of her ruffled tunic.

"It's no problem . . . I can get back by myself. Wolfie . . . thank you. It's been so long that I feared that you had forgotten about me, and you haven't . . . and . . ."

"Isha, you fret too much," he smiled. "We're friends, and friends never forget each other, no matter how long between their meetings."

She giggled and nodded.

"I guess you're right . . . you know, we should make plans again. . . . Now let's get going before darkness closes. I'd hate to see a klutz like you run into a tree in the dark."

"Hey now, don't make me slug you one," he grinned, lifting a formed fist playfully. "Just tell me where you're staying and I'll stop by tomorrow, okay?" Without waiting for an answer, he spontaneously broke out into a full sprint. "Race you down!"

She was about to answer him before silenced, simply standing there in dumbfounderment for a few seconds and biting down on her lip lightly.

"Hey, Wolfe, no fair!" she shouted with her fists balled at her sides. "No fair, no fair! Wolfe, you're going to pay for this!" she yelled out after him, following him through the darkening forest.

It was neither a short walk nor a long one between the estate and the forest. The landscape was hardly enjoyable at this time of day, but the sky was beyond beautiful to him. The sun had just set behind a curtain of darkness, and the myriad of reds, oranges, and yellows in the horizon just started to fade into anonymity once more. Stars were returning above the mountainous islands to the east, and the moon was nowhere to be found. Wolfe always loved this setting more than any other, but he knew the dangers of it as well. Monsters prowled after dusk even on this remote isle, and, though the risk was slim to none of being attacked, it was still worthy of consideration to avoid going outside at night.

The walkway that led to the front door was lit in its usual manner, luminous crystals on either side of the cobbled path emitting a soft emerald glow. Wolfe walked down it with a small frown and sighed. He never could rid himself of the feeling that he could not break the barrier that separated him from his sister. He was a remnant without any real relatives, and they, his adopted family, were nobility that had it all, even each other.

As soon as he climbed the stairwell that led up to the entrance, he tested the door handle and found it unlocked, much to his relief. It wasn't only the father and Tutor Rhado that hated him in the household, but also the maid. What he did to deserve death threats from the otherwise harmless middle-aged woman was beyond him, but he didn't bother to find out as long as she had a skeleton key and the long knife in the kitchen at her disposal.

Trying to open the door as quietly as possible and closing it similarly, he slipped into the dimly lit entrance hall. He smiled to himself, patting himself on the back for his secretiveness, before hearing the sound of movement from behind him. His blood froze as he turned around, and met the face of none other than Avdotya at the base of the leftmost staircase.

"You're very late," she uttered with a sigh, lifting herself off of the step and folding her arms in a pouting manner.

Wolfe opened his mouth and closed it again.

"I'm sorry, Avvie . . . I completely forgot about my promise until now," he apologised.

"No, not that, you twit," she responded, smiling for an instant before it drained from her again. "I already forgave you about that . . . but you forgot about recital."

"Recital . . ." he repeated musingly before he smacked his forehead with his palm lightly. "By the elements, I forgot!"

"You always do," she added monotonously, stepping up to him, "but this time it is serious. Mother and Father are furious. . . ."

"That we are," spoke a voice from the poorly lit area in between the staircases, causing the both of them to jump. From one of the armchairs that were set near the fireplace within the centre rose none other than the father himself.

"H-how did you . . . ?" Av spoke in surprise, her voice cracking slightly.

"How am I here without you knowing?" the father rumbled in a low tone. "Simple. I never left." He turned towards Wolfe with a scowl that he could see in the darkness. "I want to speak with you . . . alone. Avdotya, go to your room and wait till we are finished."

"B-but I—"

"Now."

She did not try any further, and cast a worried glance over to Wolfe before running up the steps. His eyes followed her all the while until she disappeared behind the door to her bedroom, the door clicking audibly behind her in the ominously silent room. Gulping, he looked down towards the father, who still stood by the chair and glowered at him.

"Have a seat," the father commanded, offering the other chair with an open hand.

Wolfe took the offer without hesitance, stepping over into the dark and seating himself in the leather seat. The older man took the time to pour something over the fireplace and afterwards setting the wood ablaze. The youth couldn't help but shudder as he turned around and sat in the other chair next to him. The flames reflected their faces, a grim countenance of the father as well as the fearful one on his own.

"I'll keep things simple," the father spoke, keeping his tone level, but Wolfe still could feel the displeasure underneath the restraint. It was almost bubbling from him. "Where were you this afternoon?"

"Didn't Avvie tell you what I was—"

"Call her Miss Avdotya."

Wolfe checked his breathing, closing and opening his eyes in a meditating manner. Even though this wasn't the first time he was corrected, he hated it. She was akin to a sister to him, and to have such formality between them seemed too distant and callous. He bore with it to the best of his ability, though.

"Miss Avdotya didn't tell you? I was visiting a friend . . . a friend that I haven't seen since I was much younger. I couldn't pass up the opportunity to see her again."

"And that dismisses you from your duties?" the father countered stonily.

"Duties? Since when was reciting a list for a party a duty?"

"Watch your tongue, Timbre," rumbled the man with cold, dull eyes that contrasted the embers in the background, "or I will rip it out of your mouth."

Wolfe backed into the chair involuntarily as a shudder crawled up his spine. Never before was he called by his old surname before by Avvie's parents, nor was he threatened by them previously. Though he wanted to say something, his instincts told him to stay silent.

"Duties are important to me, and to Avdotya as well," the father continued, leaning backwards but still frowning gloomily at Wolfe. "You will do your own part, or there will be definite consequences."

Wolfe bit down on his cheek, part of him wanting to shout out at the speaker. Blood seeped out of the prick from his canine and coated his tongue, reminding him that silence was the better choice. He opted for silence.

"From now on, you will come back every five in the afternoon to recite. My daughter's coming of age is less than a fortnight away, and I won't tolerate any arrogance or laziness. Understood?"

Wolfe felt his tongue quiver in his mouth, the inner muscle threatening to let loose a torrent of angry words, but he kept it in check and nodded hesitantly.

"Understood," he spoke slowly, trying to keep his tone under control.

"Good," spoke the father in his grumbling manner, crossing his legs and folding his arms. "You are dismissed."

Wolfe did exactly so, keeping his pace slow but not lingering. Without as much as a glance backwards, he headed up the staircase on the right side, opened the door to his smaller bedroom, and closed it behind him softly, backing up against it to stare into the darkness in front of him. He wanted to vent, to take his frustration out on something, but that was impossible to do now when the master of the household could hear him.

Minutes of frustration flitted by before he heard the sound of movement from outside his door. The father, he guessed, finally got off of the chair and headed off somewhere. Once the sound of footfalls faded from earshot, he let out a quiet sigh and decided to move to the edge of his bed to lie down. The sparse sheets were dingy and abrasive to the skin, but it kept him warm well enough at nights so that he felt he should not complain.

A soft rap on his window pierced the ever-present silence of the house, and he turned his head to see a friendly face. Directly outside, standing on the small slab that extended from his sill, was Avdotya smiling in at him. How she performed her feats of wall-climbing, he had no idea, but he was too used to it to worry about her falling over the side.

Emitting a grin back at her, he managed to pull himself off of the bed and open the window fully. She stepped through lithely as a result.

"Hey . . ." she greeted, taking a glance at him before seating herself on the side of the bed.

"Hey . . ." he returned, plopping himself next to her.

"I heard every word . . . it seems he's serious about this cruddy birthday of mine. Well, I knew he was serious about it, but to yell at you . . . well, that just ticks me off!"

Wolfe smiled lightly and shrugged his shoulders.

"Well, it is a special day," Wolfe uttered. "You'll no longer be a kid anymore."

"Yeah . . . there's that too . . ." she sighed softly, tossing a small curtain of hair behind her ear. "But you don't know the whole story."

"What do you mean?" he queried, his ears perked and ready for an answer.

"He . . . he wants me to marry by then," she answered with a blush.

"To mar—you mean to tell me that . . ." he blurted before cutting himself off and looking away, blushing mildly as well.

"Aw, come on, don't tell me you're jealous," Av grinned, giving him a swift punch to the shoulder.

"What? No!" he responded swiftly, causing both of them to laugh simultaneously. "It's just that . . . you will have to choose a guy within a fortnight . . . can you really handle it?"

"I can handle anything," she smiled, shaking her head. "It's you I am worried about."

"Me?"

"Yes . . . once I pick, you'll probably have to leave and we'll never see each other again."

"Then don't pick!" Wolfe blurted, raising himself to his feet. She turned away abashedly. "I don't want to not see you again! It's just wrong!"

She shook her head wistfully.

"No . . . no, no, Father would never allow it."

"There must be something! Anything we can do!"

"Wolfe, just drop it . . ." she requested softly, looking up at him with tears running down her visage. He opened his mouth to speak before closing it and glancing away, unable to speak. "We are just going to have to accept this," she continued, rising to her feet and hugging him tightly around the stomach line, "as well as make the best of the time we have left together."

He hugged back lightly and looked over her shoulder into the gloom. It seemed like a small eternity had passed before they broke away from each other, her walking to the window and him unable to move from his position.

"Wolfe, I . . . I want you to make a promise. . . ."

"Which is?" he spoke quietly, even though they were the only two people in the room.

She laughed in a soft tone as she stared out the open portal and brushed back her hair nervously, even though the passing wind knocked it back down immediately afterwards.

"I want you to promise . . . that we will see each other again . . . after I get married. Promise me this, please."

Wolfe glanced up towards her, unable to speak for several seconds. His lips felt like they were weighted by pewter.

"Avvie, you know we will."

"Promise . . ." she persisted.

"Of course I will promise that . . . you won't get rid of me by simply getting married off," he answered with a creeping grin.

"Thanks, Wolfe . . . that means a lot to me," she responded. She didn't turn, but he knew that she was smiling. "I should go . . . they are probably waiting for me," she continued, stepping up onto the sill and holding the edges of the window. "Before I go, though, I've another request."

"Yes?"

"Please don't hate Mother and Father," she uttered, finally looking back at him through the curtain of hair that the wind had tussled before scaling the exterior of the estate a second time.

He stared at the window for several minutes, her final words seeping into him ever so slowly before he shook his head.

"Don't worry, Avvie; I don't hate them . . ." he uttered weakly as he sat down on his bed again. "Sol and Mani! what a day. I'm going to get grey hairs from this, I'm sure of it," he groaned, his eyelids drooping as he laid backwards and placed his hands behind the back of his head. Minutes later, he was sound asleep.