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To my darling sweet pea, Lia
I will not beat around the bush my sweet pea, I have been unwell for quite some time now. I know it, and I believe you do too. I hope this letter finds you well, for if you are reading this then I have unfortunately passed on. If I'm not dead, and you're still reading this, then stop going through my things you cheeky little monkey!
I promised not to beat around the bush, so I'll try and keep this short. To my sweet pea, Thalia James Lewis, I leave everything, my home, my antique museum, and my most prized possession. You'll find it and the deed to the house in the safe my dear, I do believe you know the password to it.
Know that I love you, my sweet little Lia, and wish I could have spent more time with you.
Brian Wulfric Lewis Sr.
Fresh tears stained the paper clutched tightly in her hands, the last will and testament of her grandfather. Thalia had been to his funeral earlier that day, and honestly just wanted to go home and curl up into a ball.
She had to say goodbye to the last of her real family.
For most of the day, Thalia had to deal with countless members of her 'family' giving her their condolences. They didn't care that her grandfather was dead, they didn't care that she was now alone, they didn't care about either of them. They only wanted her grandfather's money, his business, his home. And now here she stood, outside of her grandfather's, now her, home. A rather large house he'd built himself, a place where he could live peacefully with his wife and children.
Dead leaves crinkled underfoot as she walked down the winding road, between the tall trees that seemed to stretch for miles around. The crunching and crinkling of the fallen autumn leaves reminded her of the good old days, when she didn't have to worry about a thing and would play all day.
A small smile broke out across her tear stained face at the happy memory, quickly brushing away the stray tears that stung her cheeks in the bitter cold. The biting autumn wind picked up, and Thalia pulled her jacket around her tighter in order to preserve some warmth. After another five or so minutes of walking she came across the wrought iron gates that separated the leaf covered, dirt track road from the pale gravel driveway. A pillar of white stone lined either side of the driveway with the tall gate attached proudly between them, vines of ivy and wildflowers creeped up the stonework and settled into the gaps between the bricks. Some thinner vines curled around the edges of the gate, others were snapped off - you know, to get the gate to actually open.
The house had three floors, not counting the basement and attic, and was made using wood from the surrounding trees. The glass windows glinted in the light of the setting sun filtering through the trees, and the wooden walls and dewy grass seemed to glow a light auburn. The slate tiles glittered black, purple, green and blue atop the roof, and the bare cherry blossom tree in the front garden swayed gently in the bitter breeze. Before the fence though, hiding beside a tree, was a mailbox. The light wooden post covered in small ivy vines and patches of moss, the box itself was also covered in patches of moss and twigs (formerly a birds nest). The blue and red paint chipping and flaking off around the edges, and the names painted in gold, fancy cursive writing was dull and faded with age. Mossy rocks outlined the driveway and split off to form a narrower pathway to the front door, they circled the cherry tree and the mailbox too, and lined the borders of the garden.
This...was home.
Thalia dug around in the pocket of her jacket and pulled out an old fashioned set of keys, one of which was the gate key. She took the larger, rounder key and placed it into the lock backwards, twisting anticlockwise till she heard the familiar thunk of the lock sliding out of place. Pushing the gate in, careful to lift the gate up as not to scrape the gravel, she let out a breath she didn't know she was holding.
Nothing had changed physically, and this was still her home. So why was she so nervous?
She closed the gate on her way in, remembering to lock it again both out of habit and as a percaution. Thalia continued her walk down the pathway, eyes downcast as she reached the familiar dark wooden door with a stain glass window. That window was her favourite as a child, so colourful and pretty. A short, fat, dark red wolf standing tall and proud amongst the knotted celtic wreaths of wildflowers painted yellow and pink and blue, balancing on it's hindlegs and reaching it's paws up to the sky, it's single yellow eye joyously watching the stars above.
Her grandfather once told her that the wolf in the window was their sigil, the protector of their family, and a handmade gift from his father before him. Her grandfather cherished that stained glass window for decades, finally deciding to place it in the frame on the front door. 'So the wolf could protect us whenever we may need it' as he had always said, with a smile and a ruffle of her hair.
Her heart gave an agonizing clench, and another sob threatened to burst it's way out of her chest.
Thalia grit her teeth together and closed her eyes, her hands shaking with supressed sobbbing and emotion. Only the faint clinking of the keys rattling in accordance with her shaking hands, and the icy wind broke her out of her trance. Taking another of the keys similar to the gate key, this one shorter and thinner than the first, she proceeded to unlock the door the same way as she had with the front gate.
Maroon carpeted wooden stairs and several stacks of books and newspapers greeted her, a sliver of a smile graced her features. Her grandfather was always fond of his books.
Thalia slowly made her way up the stairs, trailing a hand along the beautiful carvings etched into the wood of the banister. Framed paintings and photographs lined the walls, and she could see hers and her grandfather's smiling faces in almost every one of them. It was heartbreaking.
The master bedroom was located on the second floor, and held the safe her grandfather spoke about in his will. She stood outside his room, face scrunched up in an attempt to stop the tears. She raised a shaking hand to the doorknob, curling her hand into a fist and letting out a deep sigh.
"You can do this Lia, you can do this." She murmured to herself, loosening her grip and resting her hand on the doorknob.
The door opened with a loud, piercing creek. Thalia winced, but pushed the door open as far as it would go - until it hit another stack of books and newspapers.
The master bedroom was surprisingly clean, well cleaner than the rest of the house. Blue walls, a fuzzy dark grey carpet, a king sized bed draped in light grey sheets and pillows in the middle of the room, blackout dark grey curtains framing the blue cushioned windowseat, a dark wooden desk to the right of the window with a single lamp atop it and a neat stack of books, a canvas of a wolf (like the one in the stained glass window).
Thalia walked over to the canvas, stepping over towers of newspapers and books, and gently lifted it off the wall. Behind was a steel safe, glinting in the dim light. Shakily inputting the code into the safe, she grabbed the cold handle with a clammy hand.
The safe opened soundlessly, no creeking hinges, now hollow thud or bang. No sound at all, bar her own thudding heartbeat and heavy breathing.
There, inside the safe, were several items. An envelope, the deeds to the house and surrounding land, a set of keys and a wrapped present.
Thalia took the envelope first, scrawled across the middle in her grandfather's handwriting was the word 'savings'. Opening it up, she found it was in fact full of money. Next were the keys, old antique style keys she knew were for the garage and something else. The deeds had been changed recently, Thalia could see that, but they all appeared to be in order - though they were now in her name instead of her grandfather's.
Last but not least, the present. It was a large box that barely fit in the safe, wrapped in green with a gold ribbon. Thalia tugged the ribbon, undoing the bow and letting the ribbon fall to the sides of the box. Without the bow tying everything together, the wrapping paper fell loose, revealing the brown box below.
Thalia held the old shoebox in her hands with a confused look on her face, on top of the box was a small sticky note taped to the lid.
'Your parents would have wanted you to have these'
Lifting off the lid and placing it on the bed beside her, Thalia looked in awe at the contents of the box. Inside lay a lovely necklace and a long sheathed dagger.
The necklace was a chunk of some type of sparkling black stone on a thin black cord, a silver chain on the back hooked the two ends of the cord together.
The dagger was sheathed in a soft brown leather sheath, leaving only the curved (yet still smooth) antler handle visible. Unsheathing the dagger, she felt her breath being taken away. The blade was beautifully carved and made from some white gem. Fire opal, she remembered from the odd colour of the blade.
Thalia sank to her knees, these used to belong to her parents. Thalia let out a so as her shoulders sagged, drowsiness edging in at the back of her mind. When did she become so...tired? She yawned, eyes drooping more as she curled up beside the bed.
Maybe a little nap wouldn't hurt?
-----------Timeskip----------
She awoke in the dark to a noise, the front door creeking, banging silently against the wall. Open.
Shit! She forgot to lock it earlier.
Limbs tired with sleep, Thalia struggled to get up. Hands fumbling numbly, unknowingly grasping the handle of the unsheathed dagger.
Footsteps, heavy and rapid, growing closer and closer to the room. Thalia strained to speak, too tired still to get out even a squeak.
The door to the master bedroom swung open with a bang, the robber stepping into the room. Eyes bleary and half closed, Thalia caught the blurry image of the robber walking closer. Something in their hands.
Click click
A gun! Thalia stumbled on her tired legs, like a newborn calf, brandishing the item in her hand. The robber took a step back, causing Thalia to smirk victoriously. Thalia swung the object in her hand at the robber once more. This time though, the robber didn't step back. They raised their gun and shouted something at Thalia, though she couldn't hear what they were saying.
Thalia only registered the gun pointed at her and, in her drowsy state, did the only thing that made sense.
She lunged at the robber, object in her hand outstretched.
She felt warm liquid run down her hands as the object buried itself between the robber's ribs, and cold against her forhead before her ears began to ring and everything went black.