She drifted through the halls of Chaldea, the echo of Morgan’s voice still lingering in her mind like a heavy mist. Their conversation had been terse, as it always was. Morgan was never one for warmth or reassurances, even though her every action was dedicated to proving her worth as Morgan’s heir. Today had been no different, another reminder of expectations, another reminder of her flaws, and, perhaps worst of all, another reminder of the ever-present feeling that she would never be quite enough.

Just once, she thought bitterly, it would be nice to hear that I’m... worthy.

She kept her gaze low as she moved through Chaldea, hoping to avoid prying eyes and unwelcome questions. The facility was as busy as ever, bustling with servants preparing for missions, training, or simply passing the time. She could hear the sound of sparring from one of the training rooms, the metallic clash of swords and the occasional shout of encouragement. Down the hall, a few Casters were deep in conversation, likely discussing the finer points of some arcane spellwork. She noticed a pair of Riders laughing together as they shared tales of past adventures, their voices filled with easy camaraderie.

She looked away, swallowing down the pang of envy that rose in her chest. She’d never had the luxury of such friendships, of that lightness so many of the others carried. Her world was one of shadows and expectations, a life molded by Morgan’s teachings and sharpened by her own experiences. The other Fairy Knights, she knew, had struggled too—Barghest and Melusine each had their own wounds—but somehow, they’d found a way to carve out spaces for themselves here.

Turning a corner, she spotted Barghest herself, speaking with a small group of servants. Barghest stood tall and proud, her powerful presence tempered by a rare gentleness as she listened to the others, her intense gaze softened. Her voice was calm and measured, each word spoken with purpose. The others around her seemed at ease, even drawn to her steady aura. She felt a twist in her gut. Of course they like her, she thought. Everyone likes her. She looked away quickly, feeling the familiar burn of resentment and loneliness.

As she continued down the hallway, her gaze flickered to Nero, standing not far ahead, chatting animatedly with a small group of servants. The ever-energetic Roman Emperor was laughing, gesturing grandly as she recounted some story from her life. Nero seemed to glow, her presence vibrant and magnetic, drawing in everyone around her. She couldn’t help but marvel at the way Nero carried herself with such ease and confidence, as if the world itself was simply a stage for her to perform upon.

How do they do it? she wondered, not for the first time. How do they make it look so easy?

Just as she was about to turn down an empty hallway and retreat to her quarters, she spotted someone coming toward her, not being as vibrant as Nero but somehow standing out in their own way.

She knew a bit about her, hearing Barghest mention them at some point. That's the woman Barghest talked about... why is she walking toward me? she thought silently, while stepping to the side. Knowing how everyone usually treats her, she assumed they would walk past without notice, so why care?