It was morning, the sun rose a few minutes ago. Argo sat at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee in front of him. Dark bags circled under his eyes. He hadn’t been able to sleep well for the past three days.

The events in the days previous kept cycling in his head over and over. Every time he closed his eyes he saw it happen again. People flying, things breaking, carrying the wounded to safety.

Incidentally, he had made it home with Andromeda. He had convinced a farmer to let them ride in his cart as they escaped the town. She didn’t wake back up until the next day. But she seemed different. Her eyes seemed dead, she didn’t speak unless spoken to, and she didn’t leave the guest room unless she needed to eat or use the bathroom.

He heard someone walking down the hall and when they rounded the corner he saw his wife, Catherine. She walked around him and put her arms around his shoulders.

Catherine had been caring for Andromeda over the last few days. Argo had been unable to even look at Andromeda for more than a few moments. Instead working outside for most of the day and not returning until the sun had set.

“You should eat something. You’ll make yourself sick.” Catherine said.

“I’m not hungry, I’ll just finish my coffee and head out.

He tried to stand up, but he felt the weight of his wife sitting heavy on his shoulders. Not letting him stand up just yet.

“No. You’re going to eat something.” She said. Her voice was as calm and clear as it ever was. But Argo knew better then to defy her a second time.

“Alright.” He said.

Argo had lost his appetite since the other day. He ate only when something was placed in front of him. But he didn’t have any desire to eat more.

It wasn’t something that he could place exactly. Being awake was hard, sleeping was hard, breathing was an effort. Being alive for these last few days has been a pain.

As coldhearted as it was to admit to himself. It wasn’t worry for Andromeda. He was still worried, just as anyone in this situation might be. But it felt more like there was something draining him.

Another set of footsteps clattered down the hall, the source rounded the corner in a flash with a big smile. It was his son, Milo.

“Morning mom, morning dad!” Milo said.

“Morning Lolo, did you sleep well?” Catherine said.

“I slept like a potato!” He said excitedly.

“A potato you say, do they sleep?” Catherine asked with a chuckle.

The young boy climbed up to the table and bounced in his seat. Catherine over to the cupboard and grabbed a bag of oats to make the breakfast. Due to the situation in King’s Grove the school there had been suspended for the time being. Which is why Milo was still home this late into the morning.

Argo had made a small fortune working with the mages. So working their farm wasn’t something they had to do to makes ends meet. But it was old work and Argo wasn’t about to let it go to waste. The money he made also meant his son could be one of the few farm kids with access to schooling. With the schooling out Catherine had made it her mission to get Milo the rest of the way on his reading. The only books they had on hand were either too simple or farming related, so Milo was getting a crash course on crops from the almanac.

Everyone in the house was slowly starting to get used to Andromeda’s presence, or lack there of. She was rarely out of her room and the few times she was she was practically silent. This lead to Milo’s first encounter with her being when she scared the life out of him by silently coming up behind him in the hallway upstairs. It took two days before he felt comfortable being alone in the house with her.

Catherine said there was a small improvement over the last three days. Initially being entirely silent except for her breathing, she started communicating simple concepts like being hungry or thirsty after a few hours. She also seemed capable of using the bathroom fine on her own. But beyond that she just stayed sitting on the bed in the spare bedroom until it was dark, then she went to sleep.

Argo explained the situation that happened. How she suddenly collapsed in front of him and fevered out of nowhere. He stopped short of explaining it got worse when he saw Catherine’s reaction to what he was saying. How she was holding herself back from tears.

They both knew it was a cruel reminder.

But now they settled in a bit. Andromeda’s subtle improvement was a good sign, and that might be what made Catherine so willing to look after the girl she barely knew.

Catherine sat down a small pot of warm oatmeal in the center of the table and passed around bowls to everyone.

They all ate in peace for a few minutes. It was during times like this that Argo felt the least drained. Just being near his wife and son was enough to distract him.

Catherine finished her portion and was about to stand up, but she stopped short and looked at Milo.

“Hey lolo, can you head up and check on our friend upstairs?” She asked. Milo cringed at the idea of putting himself through that, but he didn’t have a better reason to refuse. So he finished his last bite and went upstairs.

Catherine turned to Argo, who by this point could already tell she had something she needed to talk about.

“Argo, we need to talk.” Catherine said.

“About?” Argo asked.

“We need to talk about Andromeda. What do you plan on doing if she doesn’t recover from whatever is wrong with her?” Catherine said.

“What do you mean ‘if”? She’ll be fine, we just need to give her some time. We all nearly died up in the grove.” Argo said.

“I’m hopeful that she will be, but in the case she can’t we can’t just keep her here forever.” Catherine said.

“Rin! it’s only been 3 days. Is it such a hassle? Do I need to hire someone to look after her instead?” Argo said. Argo went pale and buried his face in hands. Catherine reached out for his hand and grabbed it.

He didn’t want to yell, but he couldn’t help it. Argo was not a violent man at the worst times, he rarely even raised his voice.

This draining feeling he has had, the lack of sleep, and the worry for Andromeda was eating away at him.

“I’m sorry, you didn’t deserve that.” He said. She didn’t say anything, but she stood up and wrapped her arms around him and kissed him on the cheek.

“It’s okay, I know you aren’t feeling okay.” Catherine said.

She stood up and patted Argo’s shoulder.

“Do me a favor, can you meet me outside by the shed in a bit?” She asked.

“Of course!” Argo said, a little too excited. He still felt bad about yelling and was literally jumping at the chance to fix it.

“Good. Don’t leave me waiting.” She said. Then she walked around the corner and out the front door.

Argo sat there for a moment and thought about what he needed to do.

King’s Grove was basically shut down. They weren’t letting anyone in town if they didn’t live there already, that meant that he couldn’t take Andromeda back to the clinic with Rhys. Even then, Rhys just up and left. He didn’t even explain where it was he was going. She didn’t seem familiar with the king’s estate either, so taking her back there wouldn’t help things.

In the whole time they were at the clinic, she didn’t say a word about where she came from. It seemed like she was a complete outsider. Until she came to, there was nothing they could do.

Then, there was the other thing. He didn’t want to think about it.

The only option they had at the moment was to hope she woke up soon. If the situation didn’t improve he would have to consider less savory solutions. He knew of homes in the capital where they took care of people. But that was a painful thought to even consider.

“Hey dad, where’d mom go?” Milo said. He walked up quietly enough that Argo didn’t hear him coming and was startled from his train of thought. Which was strange for him.

“She’s outside, but we’re going to be doing something in a bit. How about you go see if the neighbor kid is free to play?” Argo said.

“Okay!” Milo said. He ran out the back door.

Argo stood up and finished his coffee, then he grabbed his jacket and put it on. It was still early so the air was cold.

The property was pretty large, even for other ones in the area. It was one of the old lots in the area. He vaguely remembered hearing a story from his grandfather about how the one who settled the plot was one of the first pioneers to the area long ago.

He had inherited the from his parents after they retired to the capital a long time ago. None of his siblings were particularly interested in taking up the farming trade, especially his brother Nico, who beat the odds and was born mystical to mundane parents. So it was left to Argo and his newly wed wife Catherine so they could raise their family there.

The house was large and solidly built, though fairly plane. It was a farm house so it was built for function over form. The barn across the way was built to hold livestock on the occasion, but with only three of them it wasn’t practical to have cows or chickens.

A few years ago, they cleared out the old shed that was a hodgepodge of different tools and utilities to the barn and Catherine turned it into a studio of sorts. That was where she took up her hobby of painting.

Argo wasn’t much for the arts, he was a farm boy through and through. But he always took time to comment on her progress. She had made strides over the last few years with her painting, to such a point that he couldn’t find a painting in the king’s estate that was nicer than hers.

It wasn’t often that she invited him out there though. She would takes weeks at a time painting sometimes, and even then she wouldn’t always finish everything she started. A stack she called “When I feel like it” that grew increasingly large over the years. She would invite him when she had finished something she was proud of. Which meant that this important to her.

Argo slapped his face to get the sleep out of his eyes, and to jog his brain. He never gave her anything less than his all. And he wouldn’t start now.

He opened the door to the shed and the smell of paint hit his nostrils. Catherine liked painting with her pack to the only window of the shed so she could see best, but that meant you couldn’t see what she was painting from the doorway.

Argo looked inside and saw her sitting on her stool. There was no paints or platters near her. Just the well worn easel and canvas in front of her.

She was smiling, but there were tears running down her face.

“Rin? Are you okay? I didn’t mean to make you upset. I’m sorry.” He said, worrying that his word earlier had hurt her more than he thought. She shook her head and smiled. She waved him over to look at the painting.

He came over and felt his heart shatter.

There was a painting of a girl. Wearing flowing blue robes, a bright blue hood, and her hair up in a bun. The girl’s auburn hair was resting over her shoulder. She was smiling, but she had a slightly worried expression, like she just saw someone crying.

“Rin...” Argo said.

“I didn’t want to ever do this unless I was sure I could do it right.” She said.

It looked just like her. It looked just like how he remembered her.

“Every night that passed, I could see her face. She was there, right in front of me. It went on so long that I couldn’t stand it anymore. I went and bought the paints that night.” She said.

“It’s been… years.” Argo said.

“I never forgot, never once. I had to see her again.” Catherine said.

This was their daughter. Their oldest child.

Her name was Reine. She was named after Catherine’s late mother.

She was the product of what they felt was a miracle. It was unheard of for a family to have not one, but two mages come from a line of mundane folk. Reine was the second after her Uncle Nico.

She was born a year after Argo took over the farm. They found that she was mystical when she complained of a pressure in her stomach. Her uncle visited them fearing that his very first niece was ill. Only to be elated to find that she was a mage same as him.

The family went all out to prepare for her education. They found all of Nico’s old textbooks and training materials, they set set up a spare room in the house for her to practice when the time came.

As she got older, it was found that her prowess was exceptional. Her natural soft limit for mana was so high that she could do very basic techniques without having to hold in any at all.

Her potential didn’t escape anyone involved and Nico was the first to offer to make her his apprentice when she was old enough.

Not long after her twelfth birthday, and only a few days after young brother’s second, she was playing outside with her mother and father. It was just after the harvest season and the fields were cleared. While she was running her foot landed in a loose pocket in the ground and she sank in.

She broke her leg, badly. It wasn’t until the later part of the day that they reached King’s Grove and sought medical attention for her. But by that point she her leg had gotten infected because of the contaminants in the soil. They had two options, either remove her leg, or hope she held on long enough to find a Medea in the area.

Catherine and Argo elected to aim for the second option, hoping to avoid hobbling their daughter so young. They hoped on a dream that the infection would not fester enough overnight to kill her. So she was treated and sent urgently to the closest Medean Clinic, which was several hours away.

They reached it, but just barely. The infection caused Reine to develop a terrible fever. By the time she reached the clinic she was pale and sweating buckets. There wasn’t much they could do at that point. The infection had spread to the majority of her leg and higher. She didn’t make it through the night.

That was ten years ago. She was buried with full honors on behalf of the College of Mages where Nico was a professor at the time. They received a personal letter from the royal family sharing their condolences with them. It would be that very letter that would lead to Argo years later working in a small capacity for the king.

The painting that sat in front of Argo and Catherine was a picture perfect recreation of their daughter. Every freckle and stray strand of hair was in perfect order. Every imperfection and detail was in place. If it wasn’t flat on a canvas, neither of them would be convinced that their daughter wasn’t sitting in front of them. Worrying about why her parents were crying.

She would have been 22 years old this year.

Neither them nor the rest of their family ever fully recovered. She was the first of the families next generation. She was also the first they lost from that generation.

All these years later, that blurry eyed view was rendered perfectly.

There were tears to be shed, memories to be remembered, and prayers to be made.

Once they had finished, they returned inside and cleared off the wall above the mantle and hung the painting above it.

They sat down on their couch and stared at it for longer than they could remember. It wasn’t until the middle of the day that they heard someone coming down the stairs.