Vivre

3rd Day of Vreen 1235

Vivre was not always Vivre. Once, she was Amelia Ivanstar, born the night her mother died. Her father, broken by grief, blamed the child for his loss, and the house where she grew up was cold and joyless. Amelia learned to be quiet, small, and forgotten. On her eighteenth birthday, her father gave her the last things her mother had left behind: a grimoire of magic and a letter filled with love and hope. For the first time, Amelia felt she might be meant for more. That night, she fled.

She ran to Thomas, a human man whose kindness had once lit the dark corners of her life. But when she found him, he already had a wife and child. To save himself, he called Amelia a witch who had enchanted him. His wife paid for Amelia’s death. Yet the assassin sent to kill her chose mercy instead. The assassin warned Amelia that if she wished to live, Amelia Ivanstar must vanish forever. The assassin cut the tips of her ears and told her to darken her hair, abandon her face, and bury her name. The assassin gave her another. Vivre.

She was taken to a travelling carnival, where masks and lies were common coin. There, she mastered illusion magic from her mother’s grimoire, not to help others, but to control what others believed. If the world loved lies, then she would be the one to shape them.  

• My mother’s grimoire is the only inheritance that was ever truly mine.
• Amelia Ivanstar is dead, and I will do anything to keep her buried.
• I keep people at arm’s length, yet part of me still longs to belong somewhere.

Outward: Control. If someone must shape the story, it may as well be me.

Hidden: Hope. Even buried things can bloom again.

Outward: Distrust. I expect betrayal long before I expect loyalty, and often push people away before they can hurt me.

Hidden: Shame. Deep within, part of me still believes I was something to be discarded.