The Daughter of Valancaire

(Adriene Valancaire - The Valancaire Founder)



The early morning light filtered softly through the curtains, casting golden beams across my bed. I awoke slowly, the haze of a vivid dream lingering in my mind. For a long moment, I lay still, letting the silence of the manor wrap around me. The dream… it felt so real, and yet I couldn’t quite grasp its meaning.

I closed my eyes again, trying to piece together the fragmented images. But they slipped away, like smoke through my fingers.

I had dreamt of a castle.

It was magnificent—ancient stone towers reaching high into the sky, each one taller and more majestic than the last. The walls were covered with ivy, and there was a thick, almost tangible magic in the air, swirling like mist around the spires. The castle itself seemed to hum with power, as though the very stones had absorbed centuries of spells, rituals, and enchantments.

But what struck me most was the man.

He looked like my father—or at least, like I imagined him, or wished him to be. His features were sharp, his face worn and wise with age. His hair, though dark like mine, was streaked with silver, and his eyes held a quiet strength. But it wasn’t just his face that felt familiar. There was something in his presence, a power in the way he moved, that felt like home.

In the dream, he held a wand. A long, slender stick of dark wood, gleaming under the castle’s dim light. With a flick of his wrist, fire erupted from the tip, swirling in the air like a living thing, lighting up the dark corridors as he moved swiftly through them. I was small in his arms, clutched close to his chest as he carried me through the shadows, his gaze never wavering. The fire danced and crackled, leaving trails of heat in the air, but nothing burned. The flames were controlled, alive, like the magic that flowed through him.

I felt an overwhelming sense of comfort as he held me, as if I belonged in that place, in that moment, with him.

But the dream was fleeting. As the fire burned brighter, so did the edges of my memory—flickering, fading. I tried to hold on, to understand what it meant, but the more I grasped at it, the more it slipped away, vanishing into the shadows of my mind.

I woke up with a start, my heart racing, the memory of the castle and the fire still pulsing in my chest. The room was quiet, the only sound my breath and the steady ticking of a clock somewhere in the distance. The dream haunted me, but there was something else—a feeling, a whisper in my bones. Magic.

Magic.

I had felt it in the dream, the fire that my father controlled. A kind of magic I couldn’t yet understand, but that seemed as familiar as my own name.

“Jessa?” The soft knock on the door broke me from my thoughts. My mother’s voice, gentle and patient, echoed through the wood. “Are you awake, darling?”

I hesitated for a moment, unsure how to explain the strange dream. Would she understand? Or would she think it was just another fragment of my fractured mind?

“I’m up,” I called back, my voice sounding steadier than I felt. I swung my legs over the side of the bed, the cool touch of the floor grounding me. As I stood and moved to the mirror, I caught sight of myself—a girl, yes, but a stranger, too. My face was mine, but my eyes were filled with questions I couldn’t answer.

When I entered the dining room, I found my mother already sitting at the table. A warm breakfast was laid out in front of her, and the scent of freshly brewed tea filled the air. Her smile was gentle as she looked up at me.

“You’re up early today,” she remarked, her eyes twinkling with a mix of curiosity and affection.

I nodded, trying to shake off the remnants of the dream. But the feeling lingered, the sense that something was stirring inside me—something ancient, something powerful.

“I had a dream,” I said quietly as I sat down. Her gaze sharpened slightly, and she nodded, waiting for me to continue. “It was about a castle. A huge, old castle. And there was a man… he looked like Father, but older, and… different.”

My mother’s face softened, and I saw a flicker of recognition in her eyes, though she didn’t interrupt me. I pressed on.

“He had a wand,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper, “and he made fire with it. Not like the kind of fire you use to cook or light a candle, but something alive. Powerful. He was… holding me, and the fire was around us, like we were safe from it, even though it was everywhere.”

The room fell silent for a moment as my mother took in my words. The air between us felt thick with unspoken understanding.

“That’s quite a dream, darling,” she finally said, her voice low. “But it’s more than a dream, isn’t it?”

I frowned, not understanding.

She smiled softly, her eyes reflecting something deeper, something I couldn’t quite place. “Jessa, the Valancaire family isn’t like most families. We don’t just live in this world—we shape it. We are witches and wizards, just as your father is. We have magic running through our veins. Fire, water, earth, air… all of it. And that castle? It’s real. It’s part of our history. Part of your history.”

My breath caught in my throat. Magic? Real? The words felt foreign, yet oddly familiar, like something buried deep within me that I couldn’t quite remember. It was hard to wrap my mind around, but I felt it in the pit of my stomach—a certainty that was more instinct than logic.

“You’re saying… I’m a witch?” I asked, voice trembling slightly.

She nodded, her expression soft, yet serious. “Yes, darling. You’ve always had it within you. We all do. Your father, your brothers, and now you.” She paused, her gaze lingering on me, full of affection and perhaps a little worry. “But magic is a heavy thing, Jessa. It’s not something to be taken lightly. It requires control, patience, and wisdom. There’s so much I want to teach you, so much you need to understand. But today, just rest. Let’s begin when you feel ready. I know your memory is still fragmented, but it will come back. One piece at a time.”

I sat back in my chair, feeling the weight of her words sink in. Magic. The Valancaire legacy. My family.

A part of me was afraid—afraid of the power, of what it meant. But another part of me, buried deep beneath the confusion and uncertainty, felt a spark of excitement.

“Your father will be home soon,” she added with a knowing smile. “I’m sure he’ll want to talk to you about it too. He’s been waiting for the right time to introduce you to our world. For now, though, take it easy. We’ll be here when you’re ready.”

I nodded, though I wasn’t sure if I was truly ready. The dream still lingered, the flames and the castle and the man who felt like my father, yet wasn’t.

But deep down, I knew this was just the beginning of something much larger. Something I was only starting to understand.

The dream, the fire, the magic—it was all connected. And somehow, I felt that the pieces of my past—of who I truly was—were slowly starting to fall into place.

----------

The manor was quieter than usual when my father returned. I had spent the better part of the morning wandering the halls, my thoughts still tangled in the dream and the heavy revelation that I, too, was part of this world of magic. I had never thought of myself as anything other than… ordinary. But now, the weight of it all pressed against me like an invisible force. Magic was not something to be trifled with, and yet it seemed to run through my veins, waking a part of me I barely understood.

It wasn’t long after my mother had spoken that I could hear the familiar sound of footsteps in the corridor—heavy, deliberate, and somehow comforting. My heart skipped at the sound. It was him. 

I glanced toward the door as it swung open. There he stood: tall, with broad shoulders and a presence that filled the room. My father. He had the same intensity in his eyes that I had seen in my dream—the same quiet, simmering power.

“Father,” I said before he could even speak, my voice sounding more confident than I felt. “I need to talk to you.”

He paused in the doorway, raising an eyebrow in surprise at my tone. He was holding a leather satchel, his long coat trailing behind him, but he stopped, clearly sensing the change in the air. My mother, seated at the table, glanced between us, her expression unreadable.

“I’m ready,” I continued, standing up from my chair, a strange sense of determination pushing me forward. “I need to know about our family—about you, about the magic. Everything.”

His eyes softened slightly as he set down his satchel, and for a moment, I could see the flicker of something like pride in his gaze. But then, as if recognizing the weight of my request, his expression grew serious.

“Jessa,” he said, his voice rich with the gravity of the moment. “You’re not ready for everything yet. The world we live in is… complicated. Dangerous at times. And magic is a force beyond anything you can fully understand right now.”

“I understand enough,” I interjected, my pulse quickening. “I understand that there’s magic in me, in us, and I can’t keep pretending like I don’t. I want to know what it means, how it works, and what my place is in all of this. I *need* to know.”

There was a long pause, and I could feel the tension in the air, thick and unyielding. My father exchanged a glance with my mother, and then, with a quiet sigh, he stepped further into the room.

“You’ve always had that fire in you,” he murmured, almost to himself, though I caught the words. “Even as a child, always wanting to know, always wanting to *see*.”

He met my eyes then, his expression a mixture of love, concern, and something deeper—perhaps a longing for a time when I had been unaware of all of this, a time when I hadn’t had to face the weight of our legacy.

“We are the Valancaires,” he said, his voice steady now, commanding. “Our family is bound to the old magic—the deep, primal magic that has flowed through our blood for generations. It is our gift, and our burden. The power we possess is not like the simple magic you may have heard of. We don’t just cast spells. We shape the world. We *bend* the elements. But with that power comes great responsibility.”

He paused, letting his words sink in.

“You saw the castle in your dream, didn’t you?” His voice was softer now, almost inquiring. I nodded. “That castle is part of our heritage, Jessa. It’s the Valancaire Keep. It’s where our ancestors practiced the first rites of our craft—where the first Valancaire witches and wizards learned to harness magic in its purest form.”

I felt a shiver run down my spine at the mention of the Keep. It had felt so real in my dream—more like a memory than an imagined place.

“But what does it all mean?” I pressed, my voice tinged with frustration. “Why was I shown that? Why did I dream of that man? Why did he feel like you?”

My father took a breath, his gaze heavy with something unspoken.

“That man…” He paused, considering his words carefully. “That was your ancestor, Adriene Valancaire. A powerful wizard who shaped much of the magic that flows in our family. And you… you share his blood, his gift. In time, your power will awaken fully, and you will have the ability to wield the forces of nature—fire, water, air, earth. You will be able to create and destroy, to protect and to harm.”

My chest tightened as I absorbed his words. *To protect and to harm.* That was the weight of this magic, and it was a burden I wasn’t sure I was ready for.

“But…” I hesitated, trying to grasp it all. “What about the rest of our family? My brothers? I know I have seven brothers, but I don’t remember them.”

My father’s eyes softened at the mention of my brothers, though there was a faint sadness in his gaze. 

“They are all in different stages of their training,” he explained. “Some are more advanced in their magical abilities, others still learning. They each have their own path to follow, their own strengths and challenges. You may not remember them, but you are not alone in this. You have a family, Jessa, a very strong family. We will help you remember. We will help you awaken the magic inside you, when you’re ready.”

I looked at him, my mind swirling with so many questions. The pieces of my past were scattered like broken glass, each fragment glinting with truth but too far apart to form a whole. 

“You’re not alone in this,” my mother said quietly, her voice full of warmth as she joined us by my side. “We’re here, all of us. And when you’re ready, we’ll teach you how to use your magic. The way we’ve been taught for centuries.”

My father nodded, his expression now one of quiet pride, though I saw the uncertainty in his eyes as well. This world we lived in was full of untold dangers, and it wasn’t just the spells that were dangerous. The family legacy itself had its shadows, its dark corners, and I could feel it lurking in the air.

“But remember,” my father added, his tone low and serious. “Magic is not to be taken lightly. It can change everything, and it will change you. The magic of the Valancaires is not something to play with. It chooses its heirs carefully.”

I met his gaze, feeling something stir deep inside me. A quiet certainty. The fire from my dream had ignited something in me—a fire I couldn’t ignore. I didn’t know how to wield this power yet, but I was ready to learn.

“I’m ready,” I said again, more firmly this time. “I’m ready to learn, to remember. To become who I’m meant to be.”

My father regarded me for a long moment, and then, without a word, he extended his hand to me. A silent invitation.

I took it, feeling the warmth of his touch and the weight of the promise in his eyes. 

From this moment on, there was no turning back. I was no longer just Jessa Lia. I was a Valancaire. A witch. And whatever lay ahead, I would face it head-on. 

Together. 

--------

The library was a space that held the weight of history. Every book, every scroll, whispered secrets from the past. The tall shelves, stacked with leather-bound volumes, stretched all the way to the ceiling, and the air was thick with dust and ancient knowledge. A fire crackled quietly in the hearth, casting flickering shadows that seemed to dance with a life of their own.

My father led the way into the room, his steps deliberate and unhurried. I followed, my heart a maelstrom of questions and thoughts. There was a coldness to the air here, despite the fire, as though the walls themselves had seen things they could never forget.

“Sit,” my father said quietly, gesturing to a pair of armchairs beside the fire. He took the seat across from me, folding his large hands in his lap. His posture was rigid, but I could see the tension in the way his shoulders held, as if he was bracing himself for something difficult.

My mother entered behind us, carrying a tray with a steaming teapot and a small porcelain cup. She set it gently on the table between us, and as she poured, I caught a fleeting glimpse of the concern in her eyes. Her hands trembled ever so slightly, though she did her best to hide it. 

"Drink, darling," she murmured as she handed me the cup, her voice soothing. "You'll need your strength."

I hesitated for a moment, but then accepted the cup, the warmth of it filling my hands, though I barely felt it. My mind was too consumed with the heaviness of what I was about to hear.

My father cleared his throat, looking at me with a gaze that was both solemn and intense. 

“I suppose you’re ready to hear more, Jessa,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “And now is the time. You need to understand what has happened to our family, to you.”

I nodded, the lump in my throat tightening with every word.

“When you were eight,” he began, his eyes flicking briefly to my mother before returning to me, “something… strange happened. You collapsed one night. We thought it was just a simple illness at first, a fever perhaps. But then, you never woke up. For seven years, Jessa, you were… asleep. Your body seemed fine, but you were unresponsive, trapped in a sleep that no magic, no potion, could break.”

I stared at him, blinking in disbelief. I had no memory of any of this. Seven years? Was that why everything felt so… wrong? So distant? 

My father continued, his gaze unwavering.

“We tried everything. Every healing spell, every potion known to us. But nothing worked. We watched you sleep, waiting for the curse to take its toll. We didn’t know if you would ever wake, or if, like so many of the Valancaire daughters before you, you would simply vanish, lost to the curse.”

I shook my head, feeling as though the ground was shifting beneath me. “The curse…” I murmured. “The curse that… killed the others?”

He nodded grimly. “Yes. For generations, every Valancaire daughter has either died at birth, or, in the rarest of cases, within days or weeks of birth. Stillborn, or taken in their sleep. But you…” His voice cracked, just slightly. “You survived. You woke. But we still don’t know why.”

The silence hung between us like a dense fog. I could feel my pulse quicken, the weight of their words pressing against my chest. Seven years. Seven years of my life erased, lost in a sleep I never remembered.

“Why did I wake up?” I whispered, my voice trembling.

“That’s what we need to understand,” my father said. “When you awoke, you were different. Stronger. More powerful than you were before. It’s as if your body, your magic, has been… waiting. Preparing for something.”

I looked down at my hands, flexing my fingers as if I could somehow sense the magic within them. The power that had been dormant for so long. But what was I supposed to do with it? What if I wasn’t ready?

My mother’s voice broke through my thoughts, soft but steady. “We think the time has come for the curse to be broken—or fulfilled. You are the key, Jessa. The first Valancaire daughter to survive. The first to awaken. And the first to truly wield the magic of our family.”

I felt a chill slide down my spine at her words. “The curse,” I whispered. “It’s not just about the deaths of the daughters, is it? There’s more to it, something darker?”

My father’s gaze darkened. “Yes. The curse was laid upon our family by a woman—someone our ancestor betrayed. Some say she was his lover. Others say she was just a tool to him, a means to an end. But what we know for certain is that she cursed the Valancaire bloodline. No daughter of Valancaire was ever meant to live.”

“But why?” I asked, my mind spinning. “Why would she do that? What did he do to deserve it?”

“That,” my father said, his voice hard, “is something we’ve never been able to uncover. The betrayal was never written down, never spoken of aloud. It was erased, as if trying to bury the memory of it would somehow make it disappear.”

I glanced over at my mother, whose eyes were filled with sadness. “Do you know who she was?” I asked.

She shook her head slowly, her lips trembling. “No. But we’ve always feared that the curse was more than just a punishment. We believed that it was a warning, that one day, a daughter would live… and with her birth, the world would change.”

“And I’m that daughter,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. The weight of my family’s history felt like an anchor pulling me deeper into the past. “What does that mean for me? For all of us?”

My father stood up, pacing slowly. “It means that the world is changing. Powerful forces, old and new, are moving. Forces that would use our bloodline, our magic, to tip the balance of power. And you—Jessa—are the one who could break the curse. Or fulfill it.”

My heart thudded painfully in my chest. “But I don’t want to be a pawn,” I said, my voice sharp. “I don’t want to be anyone’s tool. I want to know what’s happening, and I want to have a choice in it.”

My father’s eyes softened, though his voice remained steady. “You will have a choice, Jessa. But know this: Whatever path you choose, it will shape not just our family’s future, but the future of the entire magical world.”

I stood up, my legs shaky but firm. “Then I need to know everything. I need to understand what’s at stake, what this family’s history really means. And I need to know how to fight—*how to choose*.”

My father nodded slowly, his expression unreadable. “Then it’s time to teach you everything we know. And everything we don’t.”

The silence returned, heavy with the weight of the future. I could feel the magic within me waking, stirring with the knowledge that everything I had ever known—or thought I knew—was just the beginning. There was more to me than I could yet understand, more to the Valancaire legacy than I could have imagined.

And it was only a matter of time before the curse would be broken—or unleashed.

I had to be ready. For everything.