Andrea had heard that you can't change who you are. She'd never questioned that until today. Everyone could change—even their basic nature—if they tried hard enough. Why not? Times changed; places changed; so what made people the exception? People can change if they want, she thought. And so could she.

Today, as she walked past the tall gray pillars of the main hall, her footsteps echoing on the onyx floor, she contemplated the changes taking place and what they would mean for her and her family's school of fine arts.

Despite the uncharacteristic calm of her subterranean home, when she looked up at the three paintings at the end of the hall, she was filled with dread. She'd come this way to see the largest one in the center, but Andrea's eyes drifted from her father's picture on the left to study the superior quality of her own portrait, the one on the right. Oil paintings weren't common in the Colony anymore, but her grandfather had insisted on it. Andrea looked pleasant enough in the picture, her pale blue eyes and narrow face innocent and hopeful last year when she'd posed—she had been hopeful.

Your face always stays slim, at least. But you look strange there, Andrea, like you don't belong, she thought, forever focusing on her light blond hair. She was the only blond in her family, and although she thought it suited her, just for today she wished she looked more like her grandfather.

You can't change who you are.... Why the hell not?

The hand put on the small of her back felt comforting until she saw that it was Marian, her mother. She stepped back; checking to make sure the woman hadn't stabbed her with something.

Today Marian, too, looked different.

Eyes narrowed, Andrea stared at her, trying to determine what had changed. It wasn't Marian's raven hair, wound up in its usual neat bun, or the black dress on her slender frame. The plain-looking clothes surprised Andrea until she noticed the sequins and detailing. As always, her mother had the proper dress for the proper occasion; she was nothing if not proper.

Yet something was different about her.

Finally, Andrea focused on her mother's lean face and found the answer. Marian's face usually seemed mismatched—youthful with weary eyes. Today was the first time the woman didn't look haunted. Today she looked young, something Andrea had never seen before. Marian was much older than her thirty-something looks suggested, but without her usual scowl, she almost pulled it off.

"I didn't mean to startle you. Are you all right?" Marian asked, uncharacteristically gentle.

Any idiot could have answered, but surprise stole Andrea's will to talk. When the woman stepped closer and attempted to hug her, Andrea recoiled.

Marian raised her hands. "I know this is hard for you," she said, "but just for today, let's try. Let's try to be a family. Please, what's wrong?"

Andrea tried to place her mother's unfamiliar expression, but she ultimately gave up. Instead, she focused on the center painting again.

Marian stepped beside her and mused, "I think you get your looks from me."

Yeah, along with my inferiority complex.

"You look gorgeous there. You always complain about that beauty mark under your eye, but it does look good. Don't you remember me telling you?"

I must have blacked out for that part. 'Cause all I remember is you screaming "Suck in your gut, suck in your gut!" even though it was a damn portrait.

When Marian put a hand on Andrea's shoulder, Andrea in turn regarded it as if it was covered with poison. She took a chance and decided to be candid. "Ma'am, this...is a bit...uncharacteristic."

Relief rushed through Andrea when her mother nodded.

"We can start over today," Marian said, letting out a soft sigh. "Your grandfather is gone now; don't you see that we're free? Things will be different now. No more fights, no more arguments, no more being pitted against each other. We're free."

A boney hand took Andrea into a half hug, and despite being taller, she felt frail in her mother's strong embrace. She didn't mean to cringe.

"We should go. It'll start soon," Marian said.

"I...." Andrea shook her head, her heart beating faster at the prospect of what the morning would entail. "I can't—I can't look at the body. I can't see him at his true age. I don't remember ever seeing him at his true age." Her gaze rose to the center portrait again. "I want to remember Grandfather like I always knew him—with this face, young and strong."

"All right. I'll instruct Gulliver to keep the body covered. Is that enough?"

Andrea could hear the displeasure in the woman's voice, yet the hug still held firm.

Despite Andrea's unease and suspicion, a part of her was thankful. "He had a good life, though; he lived long," Andrea said.

Marian didn't answer at first. She looked up at the painting again and muttered, "Too long."

Andrea pretended not to hear. Instead she broke the hold and received no protest. When she turned to walk down the hall, Marian followed. In a short time the open space of the underground courtyard came into view.

"What do you want to do now, Andrea?" Marian chuckled, "And don't say get an E; that's what you always want. But for you, your dream, anything is possible now that you're not under anyone's rule. What is it you want?"

Andrea didn't dare answer, but her mother gave her a pleasant enough smile, her blue eyes twinkling when their gaze met.

"Don't worry. You can have everything you want now. Nothing's holding you back," the woman assured her.

Andrea walked closer to the wall, away from that uncharacteristic smile. You can't change who you are—that was what she'd heard—but this woman, a woman she'd known her entire life, was different. At this moment, Marian was a stranger.

The courtyard was eerie and empty due to the low attendance, and the sight of it saddened Andrea to no limit. Even the servants weren't there. She knew her grandfather didn't have many friends, but she had expected at least one.

"Nobody came," she lamented under her breath.

"He was well into his nineties, darling." Her mother soothed. "His friends hadn't kept their youth. They're long gone now. You cannot be so surprised by the turnout."

Now Andrea really wanted to be rid of her.

For so many years, she would have killed for a mother like this—a woman who had a pleasant word to offer, who'd comfort her in time of need. Now, at her grandfather's funeral, Marian was everything she envisioned a good mother to be. Yet she couldn't say why she disliked the sudden transformation.

Only three other people were there: her mother's servant, Gulliver, a man in his early forties; Andrea's fifteen-year-old brother, Dominic; and a man she knew well, the Elemental, Kobal.

Kobal's tall, toned frame was a magnificent sight, even at a funeral, and his tasteful black suit made him stand out all the more. Today he had tied back his discolored wine-red hair, and his piercing blue eyes were heavy with sympathy and compassion.

Andrea calmed upon seeing him. "Kobal," she said.

"Mistress Andrea." Kobal bowed low. "My condolences."

Marian focused on the body hidden under a white sheet in the center of the circular yard and said, "Let's get on with it."

Andrea turned and took in the area, her eyes scanning the stone fence that bordered the wide, open space.

"Mistress Andrea, is something wrong?"

Kobal's voice brought Andrea back to her senses, and she shook her head. "No, no. I just...I just wish we had sprung for at least one flower. Never mind the cost." She scoffed. "Some courtyard. All concrete. Not even one flower for the man of the house upon his death."

A sharp gasp from the small crowd prompted Andrea to look about the courtyard again. She was touched by the sight of countless stone flowers rising from the ground, blanketing the concrete like a storybook meadow.

"It is only stone, and for that I'm sorry," Kobal soothed. "To make it organic would require a lot more power, and I might not have enough energy for the burial."

"That doesn't matter." Marian offered, "We can bury him with the System; a burial by that computer is fine. That's all the rest of us will ever get."

"It's just one day," Andrea said, her blood boiling. "It's just one day, Mother. For the love of the Colony, can't we just be cordial for one damn day?"

Kobal looked embarrassed for them as he waited for the family to step back and stand against the stone barrier encompassing the courtyard.

When the Elemental clapped his hands together and closed his eyes, Andrea relaxed. She felt more at ease than ever, and although her gut ached at seeing her grandfather go, she felt proud that they'd given him a proper send-off. Her father wasn't there, but she decided to ignore that fact.

Andrea hadn't had enough saved up to afford a funeral conducted by an E—an Elemental—but when she'd asked her mother, the woman had shocked her by agreeing. She looked at Marian now, standing at Gulliver's side; her mother was so calm.

This isn't how it's supposed to go. Shouldn't she be down on the ground, banging on the old man's chest? Crying? Andrea stifled a snort because she didn't think her mother was capable of tears.

Kobal was ready, so Andrea stood up straight. Her own black traditional dress was tailored for the occasion, and she was proud that she at least looked the part of someone paying their honest respects. Tears didn't come to Andrea easily, but she wished she could cry for the man now. Somebody should. Maybe that was what her father was doing.

A gentle gust of air flowed around them, and Kobal took on the stance of an archer.

"From the Colony you've come." Kobal stood to his full height, and the concrete below the Elemental's feet liquefied. "To the Colony you shall return." He stomped once and then punched forward.

A loud pop echoed in the courtyard as the body sunk into the ground so quickly that the white sheet rose. Once the fluttering fabric landed, the ground was solid once more. Kobal bowed low. "Be at peace, Johann Andreas the First."

***

"I'm Johann Andreas the Fourth," Andrea said an hour later, closing the door of the study. "Grandfather defied tradition by giving me the full name in its exact form to make sure it would never diminish in power. It is a great honor. It was...Mother who insisted on using the name Andrea."

Kobal nodded and looked down at the thin metal five-by-seven-inch data tablet in his hand. He tapped the black touch screen and read, then reread, the data. "I...I'm not sure what to make of this," Kobal said.

"Can we do this another day?" Andrea searched her family's faces for agreement. "It's just...talking about the estate on the same damn day we bury the man. Can—"

"Andrea." Marian's gentle tone held a warning. "I know you're upset, but you'd be wise to let the E finish his job. He charges by the hour."

Kobal colored, and Andrea's cheeks heated as well.

"Ma'am, I assure you...." Kobal floundered.

Andrea kept her voice low. "We know you don't care about the credits. I think she means you're busy."

"Oh."

"And I hope you don't take offense at being called an E," Andrea said. "It's such a derogatory term. Seems a bit lazy to reduce people to one letter instead of saying 'Elemental' or 'Empath.'"

"No, not at all. Times have changed. We've embraced the abbreviation." Kobal got back to business. "All right. So, Mistress Andrea, you are the Fourth?"

Andrea nodded and Kobal turned to Dominic, who stood by his mother, leaning against the wall of the study.

"And Master Dominic.... Wait a second." Kobal turned to Andrea again, counting. "Your grandfather was the First?"

Andrea's stomach sank. She knew Kobal had realized something that had been bothering her for some time as well. "Yes. My father's the Second—"

"And the—" Kobal stopped himself, but Andrea understood.

Someone was missing, and as a good official of the Assembly, Kobal knew to keep his mouth shut.

"That would explain why I cannot make anything out. Only the active head of the household can see the family records in their entirety. For now you will have to use the System for this. Because it is a private matter pertaining to family, I cannot be present." Kobal waited and when no one protested, he turned to each of them and bowed low.

"Take care, Mistress Andrea," he said, "I know this was difficult for you."

Andrea was grateful for the gesture. Kobal walked to the wall, and it liquefied upon his touch. The E stepped through without trouble, and once he was gone the steel solidified. The air was tense. Gulliver was still there, something Andrea hadn't expected. She wasn't the only one surprised.

"What's the Gull still doing here?" Dominic asked his mother. "This is about family, isn't it?"

Although Marian seldom gave Gulliver direct eye contact, as if he brought up some guilt that she was hiding, she stared at him now. Gulliver lowered his gaze and walked out the door which slid shut after him.

Now only the three of them were left, and although the study wasn't that small, it didn't feel big enough.

Marian turned her attention to her son and nodded to the steel door. "You should go also. You don't need to be here for this."

"But...." Dominic glanced at Andrea and snorted in derision. "But there's no way he left the title to Andrea. Look at her. She's just a gaw-ro mess. She probably had to let out that dress two sizes. You know I'm entitled to it. I at least have a shot at graduating. Grandfather wasn't dumb enough to let this chubby idiot take over. Her belly's practically sagging over the middle of that frock, she's so big. She'd probably pawn everything for a cheesecake."

"Dom...." Marian didn't often scold him, but this time she looked serious. "That is enough. Please give us a moment."

"Mother—"

"Dominic, go."

Andrea watched her younger brother march to the door. The boy was brash for his fifteen years. Before he walked out, he turned to Andrea and crossed his arms, making his index fingers into hooks. That profane gesture made Andrea's eyes widen.

"There's no gaw-ro way you're getting it, lard ass," Dominic warned through clenched teeth. "And the first thing I'm doing is making you sleep in the tunnels."

Dominic left, and the room quieted. Marian let out a soft breath and walked behind the desk. Her bony hands gave her support as she leaned forward.

"Listen to me, Andrea. We've had our differences." She looked Andrea in the eye. "I haven't always been gentle with you, but after we get the title thing straightened out, I need you to be cooperative and help out."

Andrea wrinkled her brow. "I don't understand."

"The title will go to your father. That's what I want to talk to you about."

"So you'll have all the power? Because let's face it; Father's about as strong as a toothpick."

Her uncharacteristic boldness caught her mother off guard—there wasn't a sharp response for once. When Marian stood to her full height, however, Andrea knew the woman was gearing up for a fight.

"Listen very carefully. I've worked hard for this place. I've killed myself trying to get this school working, and we're a success now because I've worked my fingers to the bone. A business like this is a great burden, and it will be your burden if you take it on. I'm not asking you to do anything but simply look at the big picture. You should work hard for what you have. Once you've worked hard and achieved something, only then will you truly be happy in life."

"But you didn't." Andrea hadn't meant to say it aloud, but Marian didn't defend herself.

Instead Marian tapped the top of her desk twice, and the smooth mahogany surface turned black. With the ease and convenience of verbally requesting information from the System, Andrea hadn't expected Marian to call on a private interface on the desktop. She had been counting on overhearing that verbal request to hide her knowledge about the estate.

When Marian froze, Andrea took a step back because there was no way to feign surprise. She knew something her mother hadn't been privy to until this minute. Andrea waited for the silence to end, and the fact that the woman didn't speak worried her.

"M-Mother. I know you're surprised by this, but Grandfather told me last year that the title would be mine. That it would skip Dad and fall to me. I just want you to know that this—this won't be something that I—that I abuse. I mean, you can stay here forever of course, and...everything you need will be provided without question."

Marian stood still, her eyes fixed on the data, and when she exhaled Andrea imagined the air coming out of a balloon. Though Marian met Andrea's gaze and seemed like her ghoulish old self; her eyes held hurt.

"You have to relinquish it. You have to."

Andrea was stunned to see actual tears form before Marian blinked them back and sucked in a deep breath.

"You must. It won't be active for another year, not until you turn twenty-one. So please." Marian set her mouth in a line, fighting to keep her composure. "Please, I'm doing this for you. Please do not trap yourself in this place." Finally, she begged, "Do not trap us. Give the title to Dom. I'll admit your father isn't the ideal choice, but Dom—"

"No."

"System, please stand by for a command," she said.

A soft chime sounded, and a male voice echoed throughout the room: "Awaiting command...."

She stepped around the desk, and Andrea backed away. "No. Of course I won't relinquish it. It's my right. A strong house doesn't needs a male heir, anymore. We won't drop in power. I can do this. I made myself believe you could be proud."

If a person couldn't change, their eyes even less so. Marian's were the same haunted blue orbs that Andrea'd seen every day for as long as she could remember. Marian stared at her. All sympathy and slight good cheer faded from her face, her glare turning stern. And just like that, the new Marian was gone. Now Andrea knew what that phrase meant. Her mother had tried being nice, tried being the gentle matriarch, playing the part in hopes it would take. It hadn't. Now that weakling picture-perfect storybook mother was gone, and Marian was back.

"Don't test my patience, Andrea. If you ever, ever want to be able to call me Mother again, you'll listen to me for once and do as I say."

"And when have you been a mother? Huh? When were you ever a mother to me?" Bile rose up in her. "You are the most awful person I know. Hell, when looking for a suitor, I cringe at the idea of having a family because I cannot imagine giving genuine affection to another human being. Maybe I'll end up cruel and surly like you. I've lived my life in fear of you. I even went so far as to steal some of your hair and ask the System to make certain you're my blood parent—that some breeder didn't give birth to me. Because I couldn't believe one person could hate me so much. That's how bad you are."

"I don't despise you...."

"I said hate, not despise. It's interesting that you heard me differently."

Andrea watched her, that glare so hateful she swore she could feel it burning her skin.

"If you walk out of this room, Andrea, you can mark this day. You can put it on your calendar for the years to come. Know that January thirteenth in the fifty-sixth year of the third passing is the day you made an enemy for life."

Marian's fists were clenched—and they were rarely brought out just for show.

"I don't want to hurt you, Mother," Andrea assured her, voice quivering. "I never want to do that—"

"Do not call me Mother. Do you hear me? From this day forward, you are as dead to me as that festering sack of impshit we put into the ground this morning."

Andrea flinched, but kept her distance.

"Listen carefully," Marian said, advancing. "It's one year before that title comes into effect. One whole year, so think very long and hard if you want to try my patience for one year."

Eying the woman's steady approach, pulse racing, Andrea said, "I've survived you for nearly twenty years already."

Marian smiled; it made her face look twisted. "Oh, you've survived me? You've survived me, Andrea? Is that what you think this is? You've survived me?" She leaned in close, the faint traces of her sweet perfume soured by the venom in her voice. "I promise you this. The very day you open your mouth to accept that title is the day one of us draws our last breath. If you think living with me till now was survival, then I'll have to reeducate you on the true meaning of the word. You've only just begun to learn about survival."