Tales of chronicles

In the center of the darkened Southland, the Valliere mansion existed as a solitary castle of black loveliness, surrounded by spellbound gardens full of colors and gentle, mystical lights. Within, a small bright-eyed child named Lita Valliere came of age, protected from the world beyond by the rolling mist and the walls that surrounded her.

Unlike the rest of her family famous for their stoicism and lethal skills Lita was famous for a warmth that did not belong. She was kind and inquisitive, a seeming contradiction to what a Valliere was supposed to be.

Lita's mother, an infamous woman of strength, had once single-handedly reduced the Northern Kingdom to its knees. Wielding both magic and blade with lethal precision, she was a figure of fear and respect across the lands, a conqueror and a legend.

Her power was immense, her reputation ruthless. But with Lita, she allowed the one indulgence that her cold heart never expected a quiet acceptance of her daughter's gentle nature. Although Lita's sweetness was unfamiliar to her, her mother encouraged it to grow, as if secretly basking in the purity her own existence had never allowed. 

Every day, Lita spent her days in the magical garden, enchanted by its otherworldly loveliness. She was protected, enveloped in warmth and light generated by enchantment to remain ignorant of the mist and darkness that lay just outside.

To her, the world was infinite in beauty, a notion she let her mother indulge knowingly. She was lonely with no companion other than her personal servant, Flare a woman as manners were her proficiency in stealthily killing people.

Unbeknownst to Lita, Flare was one of the deadliest assassins working for the employer, loyal without question. Her real self was the opposite of her soft nature: a sadist who enjoyed others' pain, one who had killed countless people with precision and stealth. And yet here she was, assigned to guard the compassionate child she had no tolerance for.

One afternoon, while Flare was making tea for her master, Lita's laughter wafted in, accompanied by the soft roll of a bouncing ball across the shiny floor. Flare hesitated, letting the ball creep to her toes, and picking it up, she saw Lita's bright smile and heard her childlike plea.

"Flare, would you play with me?"

Flare froze, a flash of dark temptation dancing across her features. She cradled the ball in her palm, considering the child in front of her. Part of her wished to crush that innocence, to watch terror supplant the radiance in those eyes.

But a single piercing look from her master, sitting quietly with an intent expression, halted her urges. The raw power of her master's stare was more intimidating than any danger Flare had ever faced on the field.

With a practiced, serene smile, Flare turned to Lita and nodded.

"Of course, young mistress,"

she said, holding back the darker half of herself and playing with the child. They laughed and ran through the sunlit garden as her master stood some distance away, a faintest smile on her lips as she watched over her daughter's innocent joy.

Years went by, and Lita grew up, her cheerful personality casting an odd warmth over the estate. Eventually, even Flare's heart broke, the defenses of her sadistic personality chipping away as she developed feelings for Lita of her own. The lethal maid no longer felt herself sickened by the girl's niceness; rather, she started to guard it.

Lita Valliere, at twelve, was blissfully unaware of the perils that existed outside her insulated world, of her mother's past, and of Flare's true nature.

The mansion, shrouded in mystery, surrounded by magic, was her only reality. Her mother's secrets were concealed, and Flare's deadly edge, while tempered, still existed. But for the time being, the innocence of the child held them all under its tenuous grasp, tip-toeing around light and dark within the confines of the Valliere estate.

As Lita grew up, she grew increasingly fascinated by the outside world. She loved the garden and the quiet peace of home, but always sensed something tugging at her, calling her to venture out into the unknown. Her mother, for all her questioning, never mentioned the outside world. Flare, softer now, would only smile and deflect whenever Lita asked.

One day, when Lita was twelve, a mysterious stranger came to the mansion. Lita was reading in her room when she heard the heavy footfalls of the visitor climbing up to the front door.

She was looking out from the window to see the figure: dark, dark tall figure, hooded and clambered in black armor, was talking to Lita's mom. Her heart was now racing. There were no other visitors for quite some time, and this one was unlike any other. There was something sinister about him-but that only fueled her curiosity.

Downstairs, As she looked up at her uninvited guest, Flare softened with a trace of nostalgia, gazing with cold and calculating eyes. Her attitude reverted to what an assassin should be. Lita could not help it. She stealthily crept down the grand staircase, wishing sincerely to remain unseen, and crouched in the entrance to eavesdrop.

 As she listened, she caught snippets of the conversation.

".the Northern Kingdom demands vengeance,"

the man growled.

Her mother's voice was unyielding, but as hard as steel.

"They've searched for it for nineteen years. They will search for it for nineteen more. It doesn't matter."

"*She* is still alive, you know,"

the man went on.

"The Northern Princess. she has risen."

Lita's breath caught in her throat. Northern Princess? She had never heard of it. Her heart was thudding, and her mind was full of questions. Who was this princess, and what did she have to do with her mother?

Her mother just didn't blink.

"Let her rise. She would do me no harm."

The visitor's voice changed, becoming darker.

"And what of her?"

he asked, his voice falling to a menacing tone.

"Does she know?"

For a moment Lita's mother did not answer. Then, in a voice that made Lita's skin crawl, she said

"No. And she never will."

Lita's skin crawled. Were they talking about her? Her mind spun round and round, and she was full of confusion.

Suddenly the floor creaked beneath her, and both her mother and the visitor turned their heads sharply in her direction. Lita stood stock-still, her heart almost stopping. Flare's cold eyes locked onto hers from across the room.

"Lita,"

her mother's voice cracked through the air like a blade,

"come here."

Lita stepped out from behind the doorway, shaking. She took a step towards them, her legs heavy as lead. Her mother, who sat majestically in her chair, looked at her with an expression she couldn't read.

The dark eyes of the visitor swept over her head to foot with a slight smirk at the corner of his mouth.

"So, this is the child,"

he thought aloud.

Her mother's eyes never left Lita's.

"Leave us,"

she said to the visitor.

With a bow so deep it nearly touched the ground, the man stood up and left the room, his heavy boots thundering down the hallway as he exited the mansion. The air was charged with electricity as Lita stood before her mother and Flare, both looking at her warily.

Her mother's voice was soft and commanding.

"Lita, you are never to leave this house. The outside world is treacherous, and you are not prepared."

"But why, Mother?"

"Why won't you tell me what's outside? Why can't I go and see for myself?"

Her mother's eyes softened ever so slightly, but there was a deep sadness behind them.

"Because the world outside this mansion is full of darkness and lies. You are safe here, and that is all you need to know."

Lita's heart was heavy with the weight of her mother's words, but she couldn't help the feeling that something was being hidden from her something important.

As the days went on, Lita's curiosity only grew. She grew more determined than ever to find out the truth about her family, her mother's past, and the world outside the mansion. Flare, though still fiercely protective of Lita, began to notice the growing restlessness in the young girl.

And as much as Flare had grown to love her over the years, she knew that if Lita ever made a move to leave, she would have to intervene no matter the cost.

Unbeknownst to Lita, forces were already stirring outside the mansion's magical walls. The Northern Kingdom was on the verge of war, and the secrets her mother had worked so hard to conceal were slowly starting to unravel.

One night, when Lita was in bed, staring up at the moonlit ceiling, she decided. She would be gone from the mansion, come what may. She had to know the truth. And she had not a clue that her decision would set into motion events that would change her life and the fate of the world forever.

The days ahead went by like a dream, but a bad one. The mansion, which had been a refuge, now smothered Lita. The walls seemed to close in on her, and every shadow felt heavier with secrets.

Flare returned to her routine, as if the conversation had never taken place, though there was a new tension in her interactions with Lita a unspoken awareness that both of them were holding something back.

Lita's mother was different, however. She had always been distant, but now she seemed more frequently lost in thought, staring off into the distance at something Lita could not see.

There were midnight whispers, and more visitors dark-robed figures shrouded in shadow, muttering in the corridors while Lita pretended to sleep.

One night, just before sundown, Lita sat by the window in her room, staring out into the fog that seemed to go on forever beyond the garden.

Her mind went back to the conversation with Flare, to the Northern Princess, and the world outside the mansion. She felt trapped in a web of half-truths, and it was no longer acceptable.

That is when she heard it a whispery voice calling out her name. Not Flare, not her mother. This was different far away-like the whisper of wind. Lita's heart beat with an uncanny intensity. Standing up, she pressed her face against the window and stared into the blinding white fog for any hint of the voice.

"Lita!"

It soft yet almost insistent. As if on instinct, she opened the window and let her room be filled with the cold, damp air. It beckoned her forth like an unearthly force, urging her to have the courage to leave the safety of that mansion, calling for her to Untangle the Truth.

Amplified by curiosity as much as fear, she donned her cloak and crept quietly out of her room. The mansion seemed otherworldly quiet as she crept down the hall-away past the grand staircase and to the back door that led into the garden. Her heart pounded in her chest, but she pushed ahead, dead set on finding out the one mysterious voice.

The garden is as beautiful as any other under the soft light of enchanted lamps, but something was wrong tonight-the air too thick, the fog heavier. Dimmer than any other grouping of lamps, flickering like their brightness had been disturbed by something powerful and hidden.

"Lita…"

the voice called again, closer now.

She moved into the garden with breath becoming almost short. Between her and the woods had always loomed the unknown, clearly defined by her mother's firmness; Flare had been watching over her all along. But tonight, there was no one to hold her back.