Al'thor family

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This was always supposed to happen

Zehira’s encounter with Sepharus was not one of familial warmth, but a transaction of grim necessity. Sepharus, the venerable and deeply shadowed patriarch who had established the Al'thor line's potent connection to the arcane, did not seek a successor for comfort, but for capability. He saw in the young Zehira a singular, unwavering focus and a ruthless ambition capable of shouldering the crushing legacy he had built. Their meetings were stark, intellectual trials where he passed down not sentimental heirlooms, but meticulously documented secrets of power and influence. Upon his eventual departure—a quiet, calculated withdrawal from the world he had mastered—Sepharus ceded control to Zehira, granting her the complete authority over the Al'thor family's intricate web of contacts and arcane resources, thereby securing the continuance of his dynasty through her formidable will.

This wasn't supposed to happen

She considered herself the pinnacle of grace and power, an elegant necromancer whose every gesture was a testament to her flawless narcissism. She had perfected the art of disdain, a delicate, almost imperceptible turn of the head that dismissed entire rooms of lesser beings. Love, in her estimation, was a weakness, a messy, predictable emotion for the uninspired. Yet, in the bustling warmth of a quiet village tavern, amidst the clatter of tankards and the low murmur of conversation, he appeared. A simple scholar, his eyes holding a depth that seemed to see not the cold perfection she projected, but the solitary soul beneath it. In that moment, the carefully constructed fortress of her ego crumbled, her heart, once an unfeeling stone, quickening to a beat she had believed impossible. It was a terrifying, beautiful, and utterly unwelcome intrusion, a love at first sight that shattered her perfectly ordered world, and for the first time in her life, she was powerless against something other than death.

Why did this happen?

The adoption of Ellywen was a source of persistent, low-grade chaos for Zehira and Vashner, two individuals whose lives were built on cold calculation and controlled shadow, neither of whom had ever entertained the concept of parenthood. The sheer audacity of finding themselves responsible for a brash, undisciplined young woman who exhibited a startling—and frankly, irritating—aptitude for necromancy was a running joke between them, albeit a humorless one. They spent weeks in silent, intellectual deadlock, debating the logistics of calling her "daughter," a title that felt far too warm, too binding, and too utterly contrary to their carefully constructed identities. Yet, despite their mutual discomfort with the messy reality of genuine care, Ellywen was undeniably theirs, forcing the masters of the macabre to awkwardly accommodate a strange, vibrant life they never intended to create.

Things that just happen..

The memory of Agalea remains the most exquisite and agonizing scar upon Zehira's soul, a permanent fissure marking the point where she lost her forever. This irreplaceable void created a perpetual maelstrom within Zehira, yet Agalea herself, in memory, remains the single, impossible beacon shining through the storm. She is the serene eye in Zehira’s perpetual hurricane, a vibrant paradox understood only by the heart that knows it. Agalea was the once-in-a-lifetime anchor, a connection Zehira clings to with fierce tenacity. She is Zehira's person—always has been, always will be—a testament to a love that persists even when all hope and logic dictated its impossibility.