The morning light, soft and golden, streamed through the windows, painting the bedroom in a warm glow. Eris lay nestled between her mother and younger sister, a profound sense of peace settling over her. The lingering haze of the previous night's transformation had completely lifted, leaving her with an unshakable truth: she was a Thirty-Circle Mage. The power thrummed beneath her skin, a vast, intelligent energy that promised effortless mastery and rapid growth. The academy, once a necessity, was now merely a strategic waypoint, a place for acquiring new knowledge and forging connections, but no longer a bottleneck for her personal development.
Her sister, wide-eyed and giggling, offered a plump, green grape, placing it gently between Eris's lips. Eris took it, the sweetness bursting in her mouth, a simple pleasure amplified by the burgeoning affection that swelled within her. Her mother, usually composed, leaned in, her gaze tender as she, too, offered a grape. The scene was one of blissful domesticity, an intimacy that Eris now savored with every fiber of her being. This new reality, where her power felt boundless and her loved ones were so close, was infinitely more satisfying than any past she could recall.
Her previous life, a blur of harshness and cold calculation, was fading, replaced by a clarity that came with her newfound potential. In this world, women mages were undeniably stronger, and the world itself was a sprawling, infinite tapestry of magical possibilities, not confined by archaic limits. These shifts felt natural, logical even, to her Thirty-Circle Mage mind.
The door creaked open, and her father's soft, almost timid voice wafted in. "My dears, breakfast is ready."
Eris's eyes, devoid of any discernible emotion, fixated on him. Her father, with his effeminate mannerisms and gentle demeanor, had always been an inconsequential figure, a peripheral presence in their lives. Now, in the cold light of Eris's enhanced perception, he was more than that – he was an unnecessary variable, an impure element in the pristine bond she was forging with her mother and sister.
Without a word, Eris rose from the bed. Her movements were fluid, precise, carrying an unspoken authority that made her father freeze in the doorway. There was no hesitation, no outward display of malice, just a ruthless efficiency. A soft, wet sound, then the metallic tang of blood. Her father's body crumpled, no longer an obstacle. Eris looked at her mother and sister, her dark eyes calm but resolute. They met her gaze, not with fear, but with a dawning comprehension.
"Clean it," Eris stated, her voice flat, leaving no room for argument. "Cattle are cattle. This world is already too chaotic as it is."
Her mother and sister, their faces unmarred by fear or shock, simply nodded. There was no hesitation, no revulsion. They moved with a chilling synchronicity, beginning to clean the mess with swift, efficient movements, a silent understanding passing between the three of them. A strange, almost triumphant smile touched her mother's lips as she wiped a smear of red from the floor, her eyes reflecting a newfound liberation. Her sister, though young, mirrored the same serene acceptance. Eris had shown them that anything, no matter how seemingly insignificant, that interfered with their perfect world was merely an obstacle to be removed. The remains of her father were processed, turned into a pulpy paste, and calmly carried outside to be scattered amongst the plants, a chillingly practical fertilizer for the garden.
Later that morning, the household began to shift. The various maids and servants, who had been a constant presence, were calmly dismissed. There were no arguments, no questions. Eris's will was absolute, a silent command that permeated the air. The house, once bustling with staff, settled into a quiet intimacy, just the three of them.
Eris moved through her day, a subtle shift in her demeanor. She continued to be outwardly composed, but beneath the surface, a more sanguinary nature, free from the constraints of old rules or emotional attachments, began to emerge. Her Thirty-Circle mind saw the world in terms of order, efficiency, and desired outcomes. Anything that disrupted her growing domestic bliss, anything that wasn't aligned with her new purpose of cherishing her mother and sister, was simply an obstacle to be removed. Eris now lived without any moral rules or restrictions, guided solely by her power and desires.
With a cold, surgical precision, Eris reached into the fabric of reality and altered the memory of her mother's former lover. The very notion of their existence faded, replaced by an empty space where that connection once was. There was no need to modify her mother or sister directly; they were already her willing supporters. Instead, Eris placed a subtle, indelible mark of her power upon them, a silent sigil for protection, ensuring their safety and their unwavering devotion within the boundaries of her control. This was her new limit, a line drawn not by morality, but by the parameters of her own convenience, ensuring no external nuisance could ever again disturb her new, serene existence.
She practiced her magic in secret, the immense power of a Thirty-Circle Mage flowing through her with effortless grace. Her thoughts were different, unbound by conventional human empathy, yet she still instinctively maintained a semblance of her human side, enough to cherish the love she was now receiving. This was her new life, a canvas of power and devotion, painted with the dark, deliberate strokes of a mind untethered by ordinary rules, focused solely on the sweet, unyielding control of her newfound treasures.