August, Y1853
I walk through the gates leading to the Cerulean Academy. Heads turn my way.
“There she is,” some students say.
“Cerulea Academy’s youngest student in 50 years.”
“Graduated early with flying colors.”
“Member of the prestigious Aelius Family.”
“A prodigy with magic.”
“Sister to Augustine Aelius.”
I flinch reflexively at the mention of my late older brother.
He died 2 years ago at the hands of some sea dweller bastards. He thought he could get along with them, but he got himself killed instead.
I walk to my dormitory and enter through the door. I pull out a picture of my brother and put it on the bedside table.
They say when your sibling is someone famous, you feel the pressure to live up to them. But my brother told me that living up to someone else’s legacy breaks you. I always looked up to him, but then those sea dwellers killed him. There wasn’t even a body to bury.
I feel the tears welling up. I let them fall here, where no one will see me.
I miss you brother. I wish you were here.