The lock between blood and bone

Aria woke before the sun, as always. Not because she wanted to… but because her aunt’s voice cracked through the thin walls like a whip. “Aria! Get up! The firewood won’t gather itself!” Aria’s eyes fluttered open. Her small bed—just a worn mat with old cloth—creaked as she sat up. The room was cold, smelling of damp clay and burnt herbs. She wrapped her arms around herself, forcing her breathing to steady. She had a strange dream again—golden lights swirling under her skin, flickering like tiny stars. A whisper calling her name. Magic. Always the magic. Her aunt hated anything that reminded her of Aria’s mother. And magic, especially, was forbidden. Aria stepped outside. The morning air bit at her bare feet, but she moved quickly, gathering wood at the edge of the compound. Chickens strutted past her as if mocking her shivers. Inside, her aunt, Aunt Selda, was already shouting again. “Hurry! Breakfast won’t cook itself! Lazy child.” Aria swallowed the sting. Selda was never satisfied. Nothing Aria did was ever enough. Aria dropped the firewood beside the stove and knelt to start the fire. Smoke curled into her eyes, making them water. She blinked rapidly—and for a moment, the flames danced higher than they should have, responding to a spark inside her. She froze. No… not now. She clenched her fists until the flame calmed. She knew she couldn’t slip in front of Selda. Not even a little. Selda marched over, her sharp eyes scanning the pot. Her lips curled. “It takes you an hour to do a two-minute job. Your mother was useless, and you’re worse.” Aria kept her head down. But her heart burned hotter than the fire. “Sorry, Aunt Selda,” she whispered. Selda huffed. “Finish the cooking, sweep the house, fetch water, and wash the laundry before the market bell rings. And don’t even THINK of messing it up.” She left the kitchen, muttering curses under her breath. Aria released a slow breath and touched her chest, feeling the warmth humming beneath her skin.. The same warmth that made Aria different. She stirred the pot quietly, wondering—not for the first time—if her mother felt this same strange energy before she died. And why her aunt hated her so much for having it. Outside, the sky brightened. Inside, Aria shrank into silence. This was her life. But not for long. Because the power inside her was growing… And one day, it wouldn’t let her remain small.