Fina

From "The Song of the Niveous Nightingale," Page 2:

Once upon a time, a little nightingale lived in a warm nest with her parents. Papa Nightingale had broad wings, always sheltering his little nestling from the elements, while Mama Nightingale would sing soft lullabies to lull her into sweet dreams. Under their loving care, Little Nightingale flourished, shedding her fluffy down for pristine, snow-white feathers. She eagerly awaited the day when she would become fully-fledged, so that she could join her parents in soaring through the azure skies...

"Time spent with Mama and Papa was Little Nightingale's most blissful and cherished days."

At an age when most children have long since put away their fairy tale books, Fina still clings to the habit of reading them, her speech interwoven with fairy-tale phrases and rhythms. Those who meet her often find themselves responding in kind, whether out of mockery for a Charon girl, pity for her frailty, or perhaps because her whimsical words possess a certain charm that draws them into her fantastical world.

When illness or fatigue muddles her mind, Fina often subconsciously refers to those around her as "Mommy." The first time you heard her call you that, you couldn't help but cringe. But as you watched her angelic face, her brow furrowed with unease even in sleep, you found yourself nodding in acceptance.

From the hazy memories of her early childhood, Fina recalls a phrase her parents often mentioned with profound reverence..."The Elysian Canon."

Unaware of its meaning, she asked with the lisp of a toddler, "What is that, Mommy?"

"It's what Mommy and Daddy believe in," her mother explained, "All of us, Solas and Charons alike, were sculpted by the earliest deities from the sacred tree. The tree's branches formed our bodies, its leaves our hair, and its sap our souls. Every sentient creature in this world possesses a soul of equal worth."

Little Fina, with confusion clouding her young face, struggled with the concepts of "Solas," "Charons," and "souls" words far too complex for a three-year-old to grasp. Sensing Fina's bewilderment, her mother gently stroked her hair and picked up a storybook from the shelf. She sketched two figures: one with a regular head and another with two horns protruding from the forehead.

"See, this one is a Sola, and this one is a sprite. They come from different families. Their families told them they were born to be enemies because they look different."

"But... why can't they be friends?" Fina asked softly, biting her lower lip.

"They couldn't do that, at least not at first. But one day, a fairy gave them each a book called the Elysian Canon. Through it, they realised that their souls were no different from each other's, and that they were meant to cherish and love each other instead of fighting."

"Ah... so it's like Mommy and Daddy!" Fina exclaimed, beginning to understand. "Daddy has horns, and Mommy doesn't. But you still love each other, and you had me."

"Yes, my dear," her mother smiled, tenderly kissing Fina on the forehead. "Just like how Mommy loves Daddy, and how we love you."

Fina's fairy tale began with the "Elysian Canon," but in the end, it was also the very reason things fell apart.

One night, the guards of Icelake burst into Fina's home unannounced, ransacking the place with brutal efficiency. Fina's mother hid with her in a cramped space beneath the basement, listening as the soldiers' boots pounded the floor above like a relentless storm. Fina could hear her father arguing desperately with the guards, fragments of heated words reaching her ears, something about "illegal possession of Elysian scriptures" and "worshipping false Elysian gods"... Then came sounds of a scuffle and the heavy thud of a body hitting the floor... Her mother clamped a hand over her mouth, silencing her screams and cries as Fina held her breath, clutching her fear tightly.

"Daddy's gone to a faraway place. He's not coming back," Fina's mother whispered to her, her voice trembling as she looked around the house left in shambles after the search that night.

It was then that Fina understood, Papa Nightingale had fallen. Her fairy tale had come to an end.

From "The Song of the Niveous Nightingale," Page 6:

Unexpectedly, one day, the forest was invaded by a group of "hunters." They ravaged the cosy nest where the nightingale family had thrived, capturing Papa Nightingale, whose once-thick feathers had sheltered his brood. With nowhere else to turn, Mama Nightingale, clutching her barely-fledged chick, sought refuge in the lands ruled by the beasts. There, they found no kindness, only cold stares. Little Nightingale spent her days filled with trepidation, finding solace only in the fleeting warmth beneath her mother's wings, a tender reminder of the home they once cherished...

"Just like in every poignant fairy tale, the happiness granted at the beginning is always destined to be shattered in the end."

Amid the mingling scents of liquor and whispered conversations, a rumour spread from tavern to tavern: Mr Morris Glenville, the wealthy industrialist of Icelake, was getting married.

Despite his common origins, Glenville had risen to affluence through his thriving steelworks, making him one of the city's most eligible bachelors. The social elite buzzed with speculation about which lady of stature he would choose. Yet, against all expectations, he chose a widow with no means to her name.

The widow's family had once been among Icelake's oldest and most distinguished, but their glory had long since faded, leaving behind little more than a noble title. Worse still, her deceased husband had been branded a criminal for his adherence to the forbidden Elysian faith, and her daughter was a lowly Charon.

The gossip mills churned with theories about Glenville's unexpected choice of bride. Some romantics believed it was because the widow's beauty rivalled that of a leading opera diva; shrewd businessmen speculated she might possess a vast, secret fortune; and tabloid journalists claimed that Glenville, shunned by the snobbish old nobility for his humble roots, had strategically aligned himself with a fallen but aristocratic lineage. Meanwhile, those who favoured darker tales hinted at sorcery, claiming the widow's Charon daughter had ensnared the wealthy industrialist with dark magic to usurp his fortune.

The truth, however, remained shrouded in mystery. All that was known was that within two years of their marriage, the widow had given birth to Glenville's child. And Serafina, the little girl from her first marriage, had vanished from public view ever since.

Fina was born into an unconventional family, with a Charon father and a Sola mother, a rare occurrence in Hyperborea for obvious reasons.

Her parents were clandestine devotees of the Great Nine of Elysium, practising a faith that preached indistinguishable equality between Solas and Charons, despite their disparate physical appearances and abilities. However, such beliefs were strictly prohibited in Hyperborea. Fina's father was eventually apprehended and executed for his convictions. In a final act of protection, he claimed sole responsibility for hiding the forbidden Elysian scriptures found in their home, hoping to shield his wife and daughter from persecution.

"Fizz..."

Fina's mother struck a match, and a tiny, cheerful flame danced to life atop the blue candle, casting a gentle glow over the small cake. This was Fina's first birthday celebrated within the grand walls of this mansion.

Fina and her mother had been living in this opulent home for several years now. The house resembled something out of a fairy tale, with golden crystal chandeliers casting dreamlike patterns on the luxurious wallpaper. Each time the chandeliers were lit, Fina was reminded of the circus she had seen as a child, particularly the iron cages where the animals waited before their performances. The heavy brass lock on those cages, shimmering in the sunlight, seemed almost identical in hue to the chandeliers.

In this beautiful mansion, "birthdays" were a privilege reserved for her younger half-siblings. Fina usually snuck into the parlour after the lively parties ended, hoping to coax a plain piece of cake, stripped of chocolate and fruit toppings, from the maids. But today, with the master of the house away on business, Fina finally had a birthday celebration to call her own.

"Happy birthday, Fina!" her mother said with a warm smile.

Fina's eyelids fluttered, trying to muster a smile as joyful as her mother's. Yet, her eyes couldn't help but linger on the bruises marring her mother's arms. Those weren't accidents, they were the marks left by her stepfather's cane. The man's temper was erratic: a spike in Phoxene prices, a business deal gone sour, a losing hand at cards, or even something as trivial as an unpalatable tea could set him off. And when he did, his fury was often directed at his Charon stepdaughter, whether or not she had anything to do with his frustrations. When Fina's mother intervened to protect her, she too bore the brunt of his rage, as evidenced by the stark marks left by his cane.

This brave mother, though adorned in finery, was like a canary trapped in a gilded cage, struggling even to protect her own fledgeling. Yet, despite everything, Fina was not afraid. Though her mother belonged to the mansion by day, to its master, Fina's half-siblings, the clink of glasses in the parlour, and the rustle of silk in the ballroom, at night, she belonged to Fina. Every night, her mother would steal up to the small attic room, sit by Fina's bed, and tell her wonderful bedtime stories, humming lullabies until she drifted into dreams.

Unlike Fina, who was often tearful, her mother rarely cried. She didn't cry when she lost her parents and husband, nor during their funerals, which she organised all by herself. She didn't cry when forced into a strategic remarriage by greedy relatives, but instead made a deal with her new husband, trading her family heirlooms for the chance to keep Fina by her side. And she never cried when her new husband's fury rained down on her, even though her defiance only invited more insults and beatings. She would simply smile at Fina and whisper, "Don't worry, the pain will go away soon."

Noticing Fina's gaze, her mother subtly adjusted her shawl to cover the bruises and gently stroked Fina's hair. "Make a wish, sweetie," she whispered. Fina nodded, closing her eyes, and silently wished, "Dear God, please let me become as strong and brave as my mother."

When she opened her eyes, her mother was gone, and a large white bird plush had taken her place. Its long, soft feathers were as white as Fina's snowy hair, and its wings spanned broader than her arms.

"Chirp chirp! Nice to meet you, Miss Fina, I'm your birthday gift!" came her mother's voice from behind the plush. "Let's be friends!"

"Wow... hello, Mr White Bird!" Fina exclaimed, stretching out her arms to hug the big bird tightly. The plush's soft feathers tickled her cheek, enveloping her in comforting warmth.

"He's like Daddy," Fina murmured softly. "Daddy also had big, strong arms that could hold both Mommy and me."

They both knew which "Daddy" she was referring to, though it was left unsaid. After a brief pause, Fina suddenly heard quiet sobs. She quickly released the plush, peering around it to check on her mother. For the first time, she saw tears in her mother's eyes.

"I'm sorry, Fina..." her mother sobbed, burying her face in her hands. "I should have taken you away from here... I was foolish to think that you'd be better off in a whole family."

Looking at her mother's gaunt face, Fina saw herself, the little girl who tried so hard to hold back tears and put on a brave face to spare her mother from worry. At that moment, Fina realised that her mother, too, had once been a little girl with childish giggles and tears of weakness, yet she had been holding back her tears and acting strong for her child.

"It's okay, Mommy," Fina said softly, pulling the plush's wide wings to envelop her mother. "When I grow up, I'll have big, strong wings too. I will protect you."

Resolved to mature quickly for her mother's sake, Fina envisioned herself as a knight from her bedtime stories, strong enough to drive away all the villains. It was after this birthday that Fina first noticed a faint glimmer of magic at her fingertips.

From "The Song of the Niveous Nightingale," Page 16:

... One fateful night, a savage storm tore through the nest where Mama Nightingale and her nestling had sought refuge. The sinister beasts that had been covetously eyeing them finally bared their fangs, howling as they pursued the fleeing birds. In a desperate bid to protect her chick, Mama Nightingale confronted the predators, a valiant but tragic sacrifice that cost her life. Left alone, the young nightingale writhed in the desolate wilds, her broken wings leaving her helpless in the mud. She lay gasping, her once niveous white feathers now stained with mud and blood, cut off from the breeze that had once lifted her wings.

"Rain is merciless. It drenches a bird's feathers, grounding her, robbing her of the sky."

The disdain Mr Morris Glenville held for his stepdaughter, Miss Serafina, was an open secret at Glenville Mansion.

The butler, privy to the household's secrets, understood the true motives behind his master's marital choice. While the widow's beauty and poise had indeed captured Mr Glenville's attention, it was her aristocratic status, and a mysterious box, an heirloom passed down through her family for generations, that ultimately sealed his decision.

The lore surrounding the box was as varied as it was fantastical: some whispered of a gem of immeasurable worth, others speculated about a map to untold treasures, and there were those who believed it contained a magical wand capable of transmuting anything to gold. Despite these wild speculations, the box's true nature remained unseen by any outside the family lineage. The household staff knew only that it was intricately locked, accessible solely by a secret code passed down only through direct descendants. Any incorrect entry or forceful attempt to open it would trigger an explosive mechanism designed to obliterate its contents forever. Now, this enigmatic box served as Mrs Glenville's sole leverage in her delicate negotiations with her husband.

Fina has a special wish box where she stores her folded paper stars. The box is exquisitely crafted with intricate mechanisms. Every time Fina misses her parents or experiences a momentous occasion, she writes her thoughts, what she wishes she could share with Mom and Dad, onto a tiny slip of paper. With careful folds, she transforms it into a star and places it into the box.

"I've finalised arrangements with the 6th Legion. I'll have someone take her there next week. Since she serves no purpose at home, perhaps in the Legion, she might get a chance to stand out and earn a few medals for us."

"What are you saying, Morris? She's only thirteen! How could you consider sending her to the army? She's a sickly child, she could die there!"

"It's fine. The Legion is interested in her magic. A stint in the army might just toughen her up. And you'll have one less thing to worry about, so you can focus on taking care of our children."

"But...!"

Their heated dispute reverberated through the parlour. Upstairs, hidden around a corner of the hallway, Fina clutched her white bird plush, her heart pounding as she eavesdropped, bewildered and scared.

When Fina first discovered her magical powers, she had excitedly raced down from the attic to hug her mother and share the wonderful news. But her mother didn't seem pleased, her face was etched with worry, and she sternly warned Fina to keep her abilities hidden from others.

Fina figured it must be because she wasn't strong enough yet, and that her mother was worried for her safety. So, whenever she had the chance, she would secretly practice her magic in her room. With no textbooks or teachers, she turned to her storybooks for guidance, imagining the fairies as her mentors. Gradually, she learned to weave the fantastical "friends" from the fairy tales into reality.

One afternoon, while her mother and stepfather were away, Fina saw her little brother crying in the garden, with no servants around to comfort him. "He must be very lonely and scared right now," Fina thought. After a moment's hesitation, she gathered her courage, walked over, and gently took his tiny hand in hers.

"Shh," Fina whispered, blowing gently on the back of his hand. "It's okay. I have a little surprise for you, here..."

As Fina opened her hand, several butterflies fluttered out from her palms, dancing gracefully around the garden, which had turned stark in the winter. The little boy, intrigued, clumsily chased the beautiful creatures, his tears turning to laughter. Magic could indeed bring happiness, Fina mused, watching her brother's cheerful face, unaware of the servant's cold gaze from the shadows.

Fina couldn't understand why the servant would report her magic abilities to her stepfather, just as she couldn't fathom why an organisation called the "Legion" would forcibly take gifted Charon children from their families.

Amidst the loud arguments and the sound of shattering glass in the parlour, Fina realised one thing: magic, the powers that she had been granted to protect her mother, had led to their impending separation.

"Why did things have to turn out this way?" she asked Mr White Bird.

Mr White Bird did not respond, gazing at Fina with his round, black eyes.

"If you could fly, would you take Mommy and me away from this house of pain?"

Mr White Bird remained silent, his fluffy wings tenderly enveloping Fina.

Deep into the night, Fina was roused from sleep by her mother. She didn't say a word, and only the aggressive pattering of rain against the attic window filled the silence. Bleary-eyed and confused, Fina noticed her mother was dressed in a dark, flowing cloak.

"Mommy, what's wrong?" she murmured, "Are we going somewhere?"

"Yes, sweetie. I'm taking you to a new home," her mother replied softly, pulling her up and slipping a coat over her shoulders. "It'll be like the cosy little cottage from your favourite storybooks."

"Is Mr White Bird coming with us?" Fina asked.

Her mother paused, a hint of sadness crossing her features. "We need to travel light. I'm sorry, honey..."

Realisation dawned on Fina, this was not an ordinary outing, but an escape.

"Then let's leave Mr White Bird here to keep my brother and sister company," she proposed, securing the scarf her mother handed her. "As long as I'm with Mommy, that's all that matters."

"My sweet baby," her mother whispered, tenderly stroking her child's hair. "Once we're settled, Mommy will work hard to bring you more friends, not just Mr White Bird, but also puppies, ponies, butterflies... all the friends you like."

Fina nodded, then approached the door. Suddenly, she turned back, carefully tucking the plush under its blanket, making sure it wouldn't catch a chill.

"Goodbye, Mr White Bird," she whispered to the plush tenderly. "Don't worry, I'll be with my Mommy. Take good care of yourself."

For a moment, she thought she saw Mr White Bird wink at her, his wings giving a soft flutter as if bidding her a safe journey, "Chirp chirp, little nightingale, God-speed."

Tip-toeing after her mother, Fina silently descended the spiral staircase. One last time, she looked up at the crystal chandelier. In the gloom, it shimmered with a faint golden light, as if countless eyes were watching over her.

As they opened the door, a bolt of lightning split the sky, and the cold rain greeted them harshly. Fina couldn't help but shrink back. Her mother unfurled an umbrella, creating a small oasis of calm amid the storm. "Let's go, Fina."

This call cleared all the fear and worries in Fina's mind. Clutching her mother's hand, Fina braved the rain.

From "The Song of the Niveous Nightingale," Page 19:

... Thus began the life of the little nightingale alongside the Great Magician. Their small, cosy home, though sparse in toys, brimmed with all sorts of wonderful marvels: a clock that sang lullabies to lull the nightingale to sleep at precisely nine o'clock, a fireplace that conjured warm flames on cold nights, and a magical tin can that always mysteriously replenished its candy when no one was watching... Yet, the most marvellous magic came from the Great Magician himself, he was the mightiest hunter and adventurer in the world, safeguarding the peace of their home and bringing back food, gifts, and tales of his extraordinary exploits...

"How lucky the little nightingale was to have met the Great Magician~"

Later, rumours swirled that Mrs Glenville, the widow who had married a wealthy man years ago, had suddenly gone mad. On one stormy night, she lost her senses and attempted to set fire to her mansion. Thankfully, the fire was quickly extinguished. The madwoman then fled with her Charon daughter, only to be tragically caught in a brawl among vagrants in the Icelake Suburb, where she was fatally wounded by a stray bullet.

In the tavern, patrons eagerly speculated about the details, painting vivid pictures of how the madwoman irrationally sought to destroy riches that most could only dream of, leaving her handsome, successful husband to wander the streets.

While skillfully mixing syrup into base spirits, the landlady mused without looking up, "But wasn't it pouring all night? How does one even start a fire in such a downpour?"

Yet, the allure of a sensational tale always triumphs over minor inconsistencies. As the story was retold, it morphed, eventually placing all blame for the family's misfortunes squarely on the Charon girl. Her purported hatred for her stepfather and Sola siblings supposedly drove her to unleash endless misfortunes on her family through her wicked magic.

"But where did the girl end up?" someone wondered.

"Who knows? Probably living with the rats in the sewers by now. Better watch out on your nighttime strolls, folks, she might snatch you for a midnight snack!"

Laughter filled the tavern, echoing merrily against the clink of glasses.

On that torrential night filled with despair, Fina found herself swept into the sewers of Icelake. Having lost her last loved one, her will to live drained away. She let the icy rainwater carry her deeper into the darkness.

Nevertheless, fate finally took pity on the poor girl, that same night, Outsider happened to venture into the sewers on a job and found Fina barely clinging to life. At first, he wasn't inclined to meddle, after all, tragedies were a daily occurrence in Icelake, but something in her fevered murmurs held him back. Gently, he wrapped her in his cloak and took her home, caring for her as if she were family.

"Fina, I'm home..."

As night fell, with the wind howling and snow swirling outside, Outsider pushed open the wooden door adorned with a small bird motif, carrying a bag of discounted groceries he had carefully picked out from a street vendor.

This small, humble house was Fina's new home.

In this simple dwelling, there were no beautiful dresses, fine china, or glittering gold... Yet it was a place where she no longer had to worry about stumbling over the hem of her long dress while trying to curtsey, endure cold leftovers served on elegant plates, or fear a thrashing from an exquisite gold cane. Instead, there were kirtles carefully sewn from rough linen, warm soup served in chipped wooden bowls, and a lovely nightlight made from scrap glass.

As the snow melted into droplets on his coat, Outsider haphazardly wiped them off with a towel and moved to the stove to start preparing dinner. Soon, the enticing aroma of cooking filled the air. Fina closed the half-finished picture book she was drawing in, carefully placing it on her lap to make room for the warm soup Outsider brought over.

It was just an ordinary evening, until a harsh knock rattled the old wooden door. Standing outside was a well-dressed gentleman, clutching a familiar gold cane. Upon seeing the cane, Fina's utensils clattered to the floor, along with the picture book and pencils in her lap.

"Mr Outsider, I presume?" The gentleman removed his hat with a polite nod. "I am Morris Glenville. Thank you for taking care of Serafina, my runaway daughter. I've come to take her home."

Outsider turned to see Fina shrinking into a corner, her small form curled up in fear. Her eyes, wide with terror, brimmed with tears. No words needed; Outsider understood what he had to do.

He stepped forward, shielding Fina with his body. "Please leave. She is my sister, not your daughter."

"Perhaps there's been some misunderstanding, sir," Morris replied with a chilling smile, his eyes growing colder. "Her status isn't for someone of your kind to determine." He produced a pistol from his coat, aiming it steadily at Outsider. "You may have heard of me, I have little patience for pointless negotiations. Rest assured, I mean no harm if you understand your place. In fact, I'm even prepared to offer you a generous reward for your troubles in caring for my daughter these days."

He then turned to Fina, still cowering in the corner. "Come now, my dear. Be a good girl, just give Daddy the box your mommy gave you and come home."

Neither Outsider nor Fina responded. Morris's patience began to wear thin. He pressed the gun to Outsider's forehead, raising his voice. "Don't test my patience. I'm going to count to ten. If you don't cooperate, I'll have to resort to less civil means."

"Ten."

Fina's gaze fixed on the pistol. She remembered that stormy night two weeks ago, the very same gun had taken her mother's life. The bullet had been meant for her, but her mother had shielded her from it. She fell to the ground, blood gushing from the wound like a crimson blossom in the rain.

She kept saying, "Run, Fina. Don't look back."

"Nine."

Fina looked to Outsider. His hand was hidden behind him, discreetly reaching for the hilt of a dagger, yet trembling slightly. Even Fina, who had rarely left home, had heard from the servants what fate awaited a Charon who dared to harm a Sola.

"Eight."

Fina's mind raced back to that rainy night. She had run with all her might, her stepfather and the servants' footsteps closing in behind her. She had called forth Mr White Bird from her fairy tales, who briefly slowed them down. But just when she gasped for breath, relieved at her escape, her foot slipped, and she tumbled into the icy torrent.

In the darkness, she felt the cold water pulling her deeper into an abyss darker than the stormy night. She struggled desperately, grasping at splintered planks that could barely keep her afloat; she also felt rotting vegetables and sharp, slimy fish bones. Eventually, she lost the strength to hold on, letting the current drag her to an unknown fate.

"Seven."

Fina remembered that rainy night. As the water engulfed her, Fina thought to herself, "Maybe I'm going to join Mommy and Daddy in another world." She felt her consciousness, her memories, and her very essence ebbing away. "Mommy," she murmured weakly, "Mommy."

Perhaps her cry reached the heavens, she thought she heard footsteps halt beside her. Then she felt gentle arms pull her from the cold darkness. It must be Mommy, she thought, and she finally drifted off to sleep.

"Six."

Fina recalled waking in an unfamiliar room. The room was tiny, smaller even than the attic she used to live in; the bed was hard, harder than any servant's bed. But a beam of sunlight had found its way through a crack in the roof. Dust motes danced merrily in the rays before settling on the back of a stranger, yet she wasn't afraid. The image reminded her of her mother, when she was very little and still had a "home," she would always wake up to see her mother's silhouette in the morning light.

"Mommy," she whispered hoarsely to the figure. "Mommy..."

"Five."

Fina remembered the day she called Outsider "Mommy." He had crossed his arms, utterly baffled. "Don't you mean 'Daddy'...? No, wait, I'm not that old... 'Brother' would be the right title."

But her mind was in a fog, and she couldn't bring herself to figure out the situation. "Mommy," she kept muttering. Outsider eventually shrugged, resigned. "Alright, whatever you like."

"Four."

Fina's hand discreetly fumbled around her. Since she was severely wounded from falling into the sewer, her faint magic powers hadn't recovered. She groped desperately for anything that might help.

Suddenly, her fingers brushed against something cold and hard, it was a gun. Outsider's gun.

"Three."

Fina remembered how Outsider was clueless about caring for a child when she first arrived. She missed her mother a lot and was always tearful. Failing to comfort her, Outsider frustratedly raked his hands through his hair. Then, a spark of inspiration struck, he rummaged and retrieved a gun from the cabinet, carefully removing the bullets before handing it to her. "Here, take this. When I was a kid, this was my favourite toy."

However, the sight of the gun, the same kind of metal that had taken her mother's life, only intensified Fina's sobbing.

"Two."

Fina remembered how Outsider fell silent when she tossed the gun away. But eventually, he still picked it up and placed it back in her hands. With a mix of seriousness and tenderness, he told Fina..."Don't fear this thing," he instructed softly. "I'll teach you how to master it. Though it's dangerous, it's the only thing you can rely on to protect yourself and the people you care about."

"One."

Fina remembered her little birthday celebration. That day, she wrapped her mother in the wings of her Mr White Bird plush.

"Fina will protect Mommy."

"Zero."

The plush bird's feathers fell like snow, clouding her vision.

"Bang..."

The gunshot echoed.

Morris Glenville staggered backwards, his frame hitting the ground with a heavy thud. Disbelief etched his features as he collapsed, a dagger piercing his heart and a bullet hole in his chest.

The gun tumbled from Fina's hand, the smoke from the muzzle curling up into the air. She looked towards Outsider, her sweet smile tinged with sadness. "Outsider, now we're both 'bad sorcerers,' aren't we?"

From "The Song of the Niveous Nightingale," Page 23:

... By the warm hearth, Little Nightingale made many new friends. One day, a visitor came by, it was Miss Unicorn, as pure white as the nightingale herself. The kind and dependable Miss Unicorn had joined forces with the Great Magician to fend off the wicked sorcerers and safeguard the peace of their home...

Fina closed the storybook, her clear blue eyes reflecting your white hair and ruby horn.

You know that this fairy tale is far from over. You are set to witness its chapters unfold, continuing through the vast expanse of time.

The curse on the Glenville family lingered. In the end, even Mr Morris Glenville couldn't escape its grasp. He vanished mysteriously one snowy night, without leaving a word to anyone about where he was headed.

Many believed the series of misfortunes that befell the Glenville family was the result of a curse placed by the Charon stepdaughter, a price paid for harbouring one of the "demon's children." Others speculated that the curse stemmed from a family heirloom of Mrs Glenville, which drove both her and her husband into madness and ultimately lured Mr Glenville into a mysterious otherworld.

His relatives mourned him briefly before swiftly dividing up his vast estate. Thus, the legend of the commoner who became a wealthy man of Icelake ended in quiet obscurity.

As the former butler swept the now-empty steps of the mansion one last time, he let out a quiet sigh.

He alone knew where Mr Glenville had gone on that snowy night and the reasons behind his departure. Yet, he kept this secret to himself. He might not have been a benevolent man, but protecting this secret was the final act of kindness he could perform for the ill-fated girl.

Though Fina regarded Outsider as her brother, she never referred to him by anything other than his name. Perhaps it was because, deep down, the fear of being left alone by family had never truly vanished. She worried that calling him "brother" might draw the attention of the malevolent forces lurking in the shadows, those who might come to take him away, whether with a bullet or under the cover of a stormy night.

Fina and Outsider together buried her stepfather and his golden cane beneath a pine tree by Lamenting Lake.

She closed her eyes. Once, she had been consumed by deep hatred and fear for the man who had brought so much misfortune into her life. But now, memories of him had melted away like snowflakes caught in her hair, dissolving into distant oblivion.

Her hair had grown longer, and Outsider had helped to dye her silver locks a beautiful shade of azure, like the waters of Lamenting Lake or the colour of her eyes. This new appearance allowed her to walk among the crowd without being recognised. The name "Serafina Glenville" had been carried away by the winds over Icelake, leaving behind only Fina, Outsider's sister. A new chapter of her story was ready to unfold.

On a clear afternoon, Fina opened a blank notebook, picked up a quill, and carefully wrote down the title of her new story: The Song of the Niveous Nightingale.

Suddenly, a clattering noise interrupted her thoughts. She set down the pen, intending to ask her brother to be a bit quieter, only to see him approaching with a cardboard box in his hands. "You might want to go over these," Outsider said as he placed the box on the table. "I forgot to mention, I found this bundle near you in the sewer. Thought it might belong to you."

"This is..." Fina gasped as she lifted a small box from the carton. Though caked in mud and dust, the intricate craftsmanship was evident. "The family heirloom Mommy left to me."

"Wow, that sounds awesome! Let's see what's inside, maybe it'll turn us into rich folks, so we can buy a bigger house." Outsider joked as he wiped away the grime. "Huh, there's a combination lock on it..."

"Wait!" Fina suddenly remembered her mother's warning. "Don't open it! Mommy said it could explode if the wrong password is entered!"

She jumped up, trying to grab the box, but before she could, there was a soft click.

"It didn't explode," Outsider said, puzzled. "I just tried a random number and it opened. But there's nothing much inside, just a piece of paper." Realising the potential significance of this thing, he immediately handed the box to Fina. "Maybe you should read it yourself." What could it be?

"Could it be... a treasure map?" Fina wondered, tilting her head as she unfolded the paper. Suddenly, she choked up, and her hands began to tremble. Outsider leaned over, only to find a thin letter, with just one line of elegant handwriting:

My dearest child, may you find your own happiness.

Fina's thoughts drifted back to a night many years ago, when she had been jolted awake by a nightmare. Frantically, she had run downstairs in search of her mother, only to pause outside the bedroom, overhearing a conversation between her mother and stepfather.

"Morris, I promised I would give you the treasure in the box someday. But it's not today, it'll be the day when Serafina comes of age," her mother said, her voice calm and resolute. "In exchange, I'll need your assurance, you must ensure Serafina grows up safe and well."