"You....!" Moses gasped, clutching his chest as if she had personally insulted his ancestors.
Before their petty staring contest could escalate into a full-blown argument, a weak, raspy voice creaked through the foyer like an old wooden door.
"Moses... let her be."
They both turned. Maria walked into the inner court. The contrast was striking. Once a proud and commanding figure in the clan, Maria now looked like a gust of wind could blow her away. Her face was as pale as a ghost, her steps heavy and unsure.
Moses’s hostile attitude vanished instantly, replaced by panicked worry. "Grand Elder please! You should be resting as the doctor instructed! I will fetch your herbal tonics right away. Please, do not exert yourself because of irrelevant fake soul maidens." He glared one last time at Zyra, as if saying ’Look what you’ve done,’ before rushing off to the kitchen.
Left alone with Maria, Zyra felt a sudden, sharp pang in her chest. A part of her felt terrible. She was about to drop a massive emotional bomb on a woman who already looked like she had one foot in the grave.
But then, the cold, harsh memories of her past life flooded her mind, washing away the guilt. "No," Zyra reminded herself, her heart hardening. "Don’t be soft."
In her past life, when the clan had thrown her to the wolves, Maria hadn’t lifted a single finger to save her. In fact, it was Maria herself who had calmly handed down the cruel sentence, all to please the angry clan members and maintain ’harmony.’ Zyra had begged for mercy back then, crying tears of blood, but this very woman had looked at her with indifferent eyes saying the future of the clan had to come first.
Zyra didn’t even have it in her to hate the woman, because Maria had sincerely cared for her before all this. She had personally trained her, guaranteeing her the spot of the next Grand elder of the Ophira clan. For Maria, it was always clan first and others second.
Maria slowly sank into a carved wooden chair, exhaling a long, exhausted sigh. She didn’t look at Zyra with anger, just deep, profound disappointment and no more interest. It was obvious that the Chapter titled Zyra, was closed in her book.
"If you have come here to cry and plead your case, Zyra, save your breath," Maria said, her voice dropping into a flat, tired rhythm. "The clan elders have already made their decision to have you removed from your position and strip you of all your privileges. It is of no use fighting it. You can put it off for a while, but it won’t be forever." She sighed sadly. "What a pity?"
Zyra almost laughed out loud. Plead? Cry? Oh, auntie, you have the wrong script. "Plead?" Zyra echoed, a small, amused smile playing on her lips. "Maria, you misunderstand me. I didn’t come here to beg for anything."
With a loud, deliberate ’THUD’, Zyra dropped a heavy velvet bag onto the polished table. The sound of clinking rocks echoed loudly in the quiet room.
Maria frowned, her eyes darting to the bag. "What is this? Rocks?"
"A bag of wealth," Zyra clarified cheerfully. Then, with practiced slowness, she pulled out a thick stack of ornate, red-and-gold papers and slid them right next to the bag. "And these are the betrothal letters. Every single one of them."
Maria’s pale face froze. She looked from the papers to Zyra, her breath catching. "These are..."
"Yes," Zyra smiled, leaning back. "These are the betrothal letters and the dowries my ’wonderful’ fiancés’ paid on my head. Every single man the clan set me up with. I’m returning them all so that nobody claims that I am greedy to give them up or don’t know my place."
Maria closed her eyes, shaking her head in a mix of pity and exasperation. "Zyra, you foolish girl. Do you think throwing a tantrum will fix things?" She stopped, and sighed again, as if exhaustion was about to kill her. "I am not surprised by this truthfully. Those marriages would have never worked out anyway, not even if you were the Soul maiden. You are too stubborn, too wild."
"Oh, I agree completely on the not working out part. Those men were trash anyway, they didn’t deserve me. I feel like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders." Zyra said, nodding in total agreement, which caught Maria off guard.
Maria opened her eyes, startled by Zyra’s casual tone. Usually, Zyra would be throwing a tantrum or weeping by now at the loss of her privileges.
Zyra stood up straight, smoothing down her clothes. The playful look vanished from her face, replaced by an icy, unbreakable calm.
"But you see, Grand elder Maria, I didn’t bring these back so you could fix my marriages," She said, her voice echoing clearly in the foyer. "I brought them back because today, I am officially cutting all ties with the Ophira clan. I need you to take the clan genealogy and remove my name. From this moment on, your glory or destruction has nothing to do with me, and my ruin or glory has nothing to do with you."
Maria stared at her, completely speechless. "Are you serious?" She pushed her body up, using more strength than she needed to.
Zyra nodded, strode past Maria, went to the library in the house, and returned with the book which recorded Soul maidens.
Before Maria could stop her, Zyra found her name, and ripped out the single page which held her details. She snapped the green book shut, tossed it in a chair and looked at Maria. "Done. You have witnessed the ceremony."
Maria’s mouth dropped open. What are you doing? Zyra, have you lost your mind?"
Zyra replied grimly, "No. I found it. I have accepted reality." She looked at the older woman and asked, "Do you think all the people that once thought my privileges were unfair will sit back now that I have lost all protection in the clan?"
Maria blinked. "Well...there could be some minor scrabbles but...’
Zyra’s shrill laugh cut her off. "Minor scrabbles!" In her past life, they had bullied her, stepped on her dignity, burned her, eaten her snake and Maria was estimating these to be minor scrabbles! Zyra turned around and walked out without looking back.
She made sure to pass through the shared market while hiding her face, leaving only her eyes out. She purchased some supplies which she planned to take with her. Most were to be sent to a storage facility held by an independent hunter’s guild that operated near the Wild Lands. The rest could be carried in one suitcase. If she left with nothing, that would be suspicious.
So, she planned to carry some basic rations, extra bandages, and snacks. She entered a taxi and paid heavily for the ride back home
The taxi drove to a homestead that lay in a shallow valley, its houses built mostly from salvaged stone, mutated timber and red sheets. Most of the houses looked the same, they just differed in size. Paths wound between the houses, little more than stone and dirt tracks hardened by countless footsteps.
Over time, children had chalked crude symbols on the roads and walls, and the marks lingered stubbornly, refusing to be washed away by any rain.
Between the clusters lay communal spaces like sheds for storing grains, kitchens, dining hall, entertainment hall, garden and some communal shops for members of the clan.
It was neither grand nor humble, just enough for survival.
But it was not where Zyra lived. Like other prestigious members of the clan, she lived in a larger dwelling, that was mansion sized, lined by orange fruit trees.
She had always loved it there, but not anymore. And the people that lived there did not love her being there. Her arrival made the atmosphere go from cheerful to haunted in a second.
The brooms, shears, sticks, watering cans--everything that everyone was holding, suddenly seemed like a weapon that could be used to kill her!