𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓

Damaris climbed the stairs toward the owlery, where she knew the mail arrived. She hoped for a reply from her family—specifically her grandfather, Otto—to whom she had written a Christmas letter a few days earlier, sharing something that had been weighing on her mind for some time.
"I hope this brings me some clarity... and that he agrees to let me have another dog," she thought as she ascended, glancing back every now and then to ensure her new puppy, Cerberus, was following her. The Crup puppy—a magical breed she had adopted just days ago—was beautiful; he reminded her of the god Hades' pet. Noticing the puppy was struggling a bit with the climb, she stepped back to scoop him up and carry him the rest of the way, laughing as the Crup licked her face and wagged his tails excitedly—a gesture from her pets that always melted her heart. Upon reaching the owlery, she was struck by the variety of owls present; some rested on perches, while others flitted about, coming and going with letters. She set Cerberus down, and he began to explore the space eagerly—though Damaris kept a watchful eye on him—until the hoot of an owl caught her attention. A letter was tied to the bird's leg, and she recognized the seal; it was the one her grandfather used. She approached the owl, stroked its head, and took the letter, opening it to read the contents.

𝑴𝒚 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍 𝑨𝒓𝒊,
𝑬𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒔 𝒈𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆. 𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒎𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒚 𝒊𝒈𝒏𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒅 𝑨𝒓𝒈𝒐𝒔; 𝑰’𝒎 𝒕𝒓𝒚𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒘𝒊𝒔𝒆, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒊𝒔—𝑰 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒅𝒐𝒈 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒔 𝒎𝒆. 𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒇𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒊𝒔... 𝒘𝒆𝒍𝒍, 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝒂𝒔 𝒂𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔: 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒅 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒈𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒏 𝒅𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅. 𝑰𝒕’𝒔 𝒏𝒊𝒄𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒉𝒆’𝒔 𝒔𝒆𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝑰’𝒎 𝒔𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒚 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒚 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒇𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒖𝒕; 𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒉𝒊𝒎𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇. 𝑨𝒏𝒚𝒘𝒂𝒚, 𝑰 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒏'𝒕 𝒕𝒐𝒐 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒓𝒚 𝒂𝒏𝒚𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆. 𝑺𝒉𝒆’𝒔 𝒂 𝒈𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒘𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏—𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒈𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒂 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆, 𝑨𝒓𝒊. 𝑰’𝒎 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒂𝒔𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒐 𝒂𝒄𝒄𝒆𝒑𝒕 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒂𝒘𝒂𝒚, 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕... 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒆, 𝒎𝒂𝒚𝒃𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒆𝒕 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒂 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒕. 𝑩𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆, 𝒘𝒆𝒍𝒍, 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒇𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒐 𝒋𝒐𝒊𝒏 𝒖𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝑪𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒎𝒂𝒔 𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒓—𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖, 𝒅𝒊𝒅𝒏'𝒕 𝒉𝒆? 𝑰 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒔𝒐; 𝑰 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒅𝒓𝒐𝒑 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒏𝒆𝒘𝒔 𝒐𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒂 𝒃𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒆𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒄𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒘𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒓. 𝑨𝒏𝒚𝒘𝒂𝒚, 𝑰 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖’𝒓𝒆 𝒅𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒂𝒕 𝒔𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒍, 𝒕𝒐𝒐. 𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒄𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒏𝒊𝒄𝒆, 𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕? 𝑫𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒆 𝒖𝒑 𝒊𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒓𝒐𝒐𝒎; 𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒆𝒙𝒑𝒍𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒂 𝒃𝒊𝒕. 𝑪𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒄𝒂𝒗𝒆, 𝒕𝒐𝒖𝒄𝒉 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒔𝒔, 𝒅𝒐 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒑𝒉𝒐𝒕𝒐𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒔—𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆, 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍, 𝒚𝒐𝒖’𝒓𝒆 𝒈𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐 𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒖𝒑 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒑𝒂𝒍𝒆. 𝑨𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒔𝒌𝒆𝒅 𝒎𝒆... 𝒉𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒚, 𝒘𝒆’𝒗𝒆 𝒂𝒍𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒚 𝒈𝒐𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒅𝒐𝒈 𝒐𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔; 𝑰 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒊𝒇 𝒘𝒆’𝒓𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒚 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒑𝒖𝒑𝒑𝒚. 𝑩𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒔, 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒐𝒏𝒆? 𝑫𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆’𝒔 𝒂 𝒑𝒆𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒏𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒃𝒚, 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝑰 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒚𝒐𝒖—𝒚𝒐𝒖’𝒗𝒆 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒃𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒚 𝒂𝒍𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒚 𝒈𝒐𝒕 𝒊𝒕 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒎𝒚 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒍𝒚. 𝑩𝒖𝒕 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌, 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒅𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒊𝒔 𝒖𝒑 𝒕𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒇𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓. 𝑰𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖’𝒗𝒆 𝒂𝒍𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒚 𝒈𝒐𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒐𝒈, 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒆—𝒃𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒕 𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒆’𝒍𝒍 𝒎𝒆𝒆𝒕 𝒊𝒕 𝒂𝒕 𝑪𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒎𝒂𝒔. 𝑱𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒌𝒆𝒆𝒑 𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒇𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒃𝒆 𝒕𝒐𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒅 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒊𝒕... 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝑰 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕’𝒔 𝒆𝒙𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒍𝒚 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖’𝒓𝒆 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒐𝒓, 𝒊𝒔𝒏'𝒕 𝒊𝒕? 𝒀𝒐𝒖’𝒗𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒅 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒇𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓’𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒍𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆. 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒆𝒆𝒎 𝒄𝒂𝒍𝒎, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒃𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒌 𝒐𝒇 𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒆𝒕 𝒏𝒆𝒓𝒗𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔, 𝒚𝒐𝒖’𝒓𝒆 𝒂 𝒘𝒂𝒍𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒓𝒍𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒅. 𝑨𝒏𝒚𝒘𝒂𝒚, 𝑰 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒐𝒐𝒏, 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕; 𝒘𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒎𝒖𝒄𝒉 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖... 𝒚𝒆𝒔, 𝑨𝒓𝒈𝒐𝒔 𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒐𝒐.

𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆, 𝑮𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒑𝒂

Damaris sat reading the letter for a few minutes, processing everything her grandfather had told her; her father hadn't written a word about the Christmas dinner with his girlfriend. It didn't bother her—she was simply surprised that her own father hadn't mentioned it and that she had found out through someone else. She took a moment to compose herself and tucked the letter into her pocket, giving the owl’s head one last affectionate stroke and a small smile.
"Thanks, little one ," she said to the owl, watching as it flew up to a high perch in the tower moments later. She looked at Cerberus and smiled, whistling to call him over so she could pick him up.
"Come on, my boy... let's go back to my cave," she said, smiling and using the soft, gentle voice she reserved only for Argos—and now, for Cerberus.