Draken Residence, Mt Kailash, Tanya’s Decennial Birthday

Oksana woke up an hour before dawn, as she did many a times before. Oksana sat up in her bed and folded her legs in the lotus position, placing her hand on her knees as she did so.

She took a deep breath and looked deep within her mind, to recollect all her experiences, from a time long past, of her days in a palace spectacular in scale and splendor, of days of simple joys and hardships.

Of more recent times, where happiness was not something she experienced near so often, where sadness was the way of her life, where mistrust ran rampant, where she backstabbed others as a matter of her own survival.

Of her more recent past, a family life that only just allowed itself to be a thing of the past, where she again felt simple joys and sorrows, like she had been with her parents and her six elder sisters.

And then, there was the latest chapter of her life, which caused her more joy than ever before.

Oksana caught up to the present and finally refreshed her memory. She then made sure that none of her muscles were tense as she raised her hands to her eyes to press against them.

Oksana got up from the bed she slept in and made sure she had not forgotten anything.

Morning meditation? Check.

Decent clothes? Check.

Proper checklist? Check.

Her tools for the day? Check.

Her gift for her daughter? On the way.

Oksana walked over to her daughter’s bedroom, finding her daughter still deeply asleep, as expected. Her daughter took after her in strange ways. She kept to her schedule like it was her bible, yet would readily modify it whenever the opportunity presented itself, seemingly eager to ease her day, and yet somehow dumping unto herself more work to sift through.

It is always hilarious to watch a kid smugly doing something in the assumption it would make things go her way and yet somehow her plans backfiring on her with no interference on Oksana’s part.

Tanya might have some genius tactician blood in her, but she also had a lot of the good ole’ Raken luck, more than Oksana thought was possible.

well, at least that means she will have a very eventful future, for all the implications involved.

Oksana gently rubbed her hand over her cute little monster’s head, brushing away stray strands of hair.

Oksana sat there for a short few moments, enjoying the quiet companionship she so yearned for in a time long past. She kept brushing Tanya’s hair until she began to lightly stir.

This startled Oksana slightly, she had not expected time to pass so quickly. She glanced out the window and noted that it would soon be time for Tanya to wake up. Oksana was thankful for the fact that Tanya was not one to wake up quickly upon regaining consciousness.

She quickly and quietly skedaddled from Tanya’s room, and walked over to her room.

There was a strange sense of finality to what she did once she entered her room. She used a ribbon to tie up her hair into a ponytail, and changed out of her pajamas into a pair of overalls that seemed more the style of a construction worker or a blacksmith.

She took a deep breath once she was ready and stood in front of a section of the wall in her room. She pushed a very tiny section of it with her index finger, like she had many times before.

The wall seemingly collapsed in on itself and moved aside, revealing a secret passageway. Oksana picked up the torch hanging from the holder in the passage, lit it with the flint she carried in her pocket, and walked into the tunnel, closing the wall behind her.

Boy, did Oksana love herself some secret tunnels. The place was riddled with them, with some leading absolutely nowhere, being made only as a proof of concept for Oksana to improve her art of secret passage making.

At the end of the tunnel Oksana was following, there lied a workshop. The workshop seemed to be for everyday items like clothes or scarves.

In fact, surrounding the actual workspace, was a lot of clothes that looked like they would fit a ten year old. The closer Oksana got to the workspace, the bigger the intended recipient for the clothes seem to get.

At the end of the path, on the workshop itself, the clothes being made seemed to be for Oksana herself except intended for a man, instead of a woman. The man would be slight of frame as well as being not that gifted in terms of height.

Oksana finished her project in record speeds, her hands a blur as she flew from one item to the next. If someone were to see her working on the clothes, they would simply see a blur moving across the table.

Once all of her side projects were finished, Oksana cleared her table of all materials and finished products. She then pulled a metal box from a shelf nearby and placed it on the table.

She fiddled with the lock on the box for a short while, before seemingly out of frustration punching it.

The lock snapped open and she looked at the lock in her hand in surprise, and shrugged, “When in doubt, punch the problem in the face I guess.”

She threw the lock behind her and opened the box tenderly, as if afraid to open it, and flung open the top of the box, revealing the secrets held inside.

In the box, was something insulated in various clothes and oiled leather. Oksana gingerly unfurled the silk outer covering, dropping it into the box, and walked over to another section of her workroom. She turned and pulled a chain from the top of the corner, and the room shifted.

Her worktable rotated, to yet another workstation, yet this one seemed to be for working with wood. There was a workbench, but much smaller than the one she had earlier, with half of the space priorly taken up by a table now taken by a vast variety of tools and items, including a chunk of sandpaper, a few buckets containing something labelled either ‘L’ or ‘E’.

Oksana gently placed the object wrapped in the oiled cloth on the table, and unwrapped the cloth, revealing a small block of wood, a cube having an edge of 40 cm. Oksana delicately lifted the wooden block as if it was a very delicate piece of ornate glasswork that had cost her an arm and a leg.

She placed it on the table before her, and began her work.

Unlike all of the work she did before, each movement was slow and precisely calculated. She lifted her finger, manipulating the energies within her, causing a narrow beam of light to radiate from her finger like a sword, allowing her to perform delicate cuts.

A long while later, she stopped. Before her was a plain wooden mask. It had no specific features on the outside. On the inside however, was the true measure of her craftsmanship. Cover the mask from forehead till chin was a variety of scripts, detailing the purpose of the mask.

Oksana was satisfied with her handiwork, and began the true finishing touches. She took the life that remained within her and grafted it on the mask, granting upon it the power it needed to fulfil its purpose for as long as may be required.

She brought out a pre-prepared letter from within her shirt, and placed it right next to the mask. She placed the lid for the box over the mask, and sealed it with a piece of wrapping paper and tied the paper with a piece of strong string with shaking hands.

She stood up with shaky feet, grabbed her one proper guitar from the corner and made her way back to her room somehow. She truly, truly wanted to last the one day.

In her room, she knew she had the solution to her current problem. But it would cost her a pretty penny when the Devil came for his dues.

It matters not. What matters most was that her daughter had the best birthday ever. Even if it would only be for a while.

She reached her room with her luggage. She set aside the box, inside the dressing room drawer and reached for the other item inside the drawer.

From within she withdrew a potion, made by a witch of seemingly dubious repute, who sold her wares in the island of miraculous doctors and wonderful leaders. Oksana paused, contemplating. Are the leaders still the same? After that event at the fall of the Empire... She shook off unneeded thoughts and looked again at the potion.

Apparently, this potion will grant the user their peak physique, mentality and power, at the cost of having the user suffer extreme debilitating pain at every minute of its use. It clearly said so in the label. The only time limit on the usage would be the limit of the user’s will.

Oksana scoffed in false bravado and popped open the cork revealing... a surprisingly scentless compound. She had been assured when she had been tributed this that the drink had no ‘best before’ and neither that it would go bad.

She took a deep breath, made her resolution anew, and drunk from the flask directly... And gagged from the taste after she was done.

“Man, that was bad, almost as bad as that goddamn Fruit.” She said, after some level of healthy cussing that she had most certainly NOT taught her kid on reflex.

She felt her energy returning to her in fits and starts at first, in slow unsteady bursts, like a water reservoir whose only source had been unclogged by sheer pressure. And then, she was absolutely glowing with power.

Man, Oksana had forgotten how her heyday had felt like. It had been way too long since she last felt her powers be anything more than a tiny pond she had to draw from. Now, she had an ocean of life to draw from once more.

Just as it had the first time she had handled such raw power, she was racked in pain, her body raging to let the power she was not ready for out in any way, manner or form.

She was no longer an inexperienced young woman with powers beyond her comprehension. She was now an experienced young woman with powers beyond comprehension.

She brought up her power, commanding it as the earth guides the rivers that flow within its gentle embrace, to her finger tips, and told her power to infuse the contents of the box till it could enhance no longer.

Surprisingly enough, the enhancements made an actual dent on her reserves. And if that was not nearly surprising enough, the box suddenly warped around her hands and turned into a rucksack, the kind used by weary travelers worldwide.

Oksana nearly lost her balance as she felt the backlash of using up so much of her power in such a short period of time. She steadied herself, however, standing on her two feet without the need of support, picked up her guitar.

She had one last task to perform, before she decided to kick the bucket.

She had to wake her last child once more, with a smile on her face. She had a birthday to attend.

Tanya’s Room, The Day of Her Tenth Birthday, Seconds Before she awakes

Oksana lightly strummed her guitar. She was ready to wake her daughter up for the greatest birthday bash she has ever seen. The tables shall dance, the utensils shall sing, the food shall be tasty, and most of all, it would be the most topsy-turvy curveball she could throw.

And so, as Oksana strummed her guitar’s strings as she prepared to sing, her powers spread through the house, allowing her to bring life into those she wished to, and told them of her intent.

So, she brought the thing that she would use to wake her daughter. It was a bucket.

A bucket of cold water, in fact. What better way is there to wake up than by a surprise?

As Oksana had expected however, Tanya suffered not from the dumping of the cold river water on her body, instead of the wanted reaction of popping up in extreme shock and anger, she did something else that Oksana did not expect, but increased the comedic value tenfold.

She rose slowly from her place of rest like a several-thousand-year mummy waking from eternal rest, and upon sitting up for a few seconds, her back ramrod straight, she felt the stimuli that woke her up.

She immediately jumped to her right, and promptly ran into the wall. She and the wall had a sumo match, each pushing against each other with increasing bouts of strength, with Tanya taking up a professional’s pose and widening her legs and pushed her right palm with her full strength at the wall. Tanya was a very small 10-year-old kid who is still half asleep and moved with no apparent technique and had only trained properly in the sword.

The wall was one built by Oksana with the use of an ancient tree she had felled and the help of her powers of life. It could handle several tons of snow upon it for several days without straining a bit.

The wall stood no chance. Tanya blasted through it in a single go, sumo’ing open a clear hole for her to jump through.

Of course, she jumped straight into a pile of snow.

The cold seemed to have done her a bit of good, waking her up properly and jump starting her brain to its normal level of functioning, looking by how she was squirming around like an earthworm on the snow, covering her extremely red face with her hands.

Oksana had her laugh and jumped down the new exit path created by her daughter and squatted next to the squirming little cute earthworm next to her and poked it with her foot, letting the cute little thing snap out of it.

Oksana laughed and told her daughter, “Do you want a surprise? Come into the living room when you are ready for it.”

Tanya nodded numbly, holding back her tears of embarrassment and bringing out a cute smile.

Tanya promised herself within that her revenge against the cruel one who wakes her beloved, cute and imperial daughter with a bucket of cold water would come, and it would be served cold, just the way she preferred ice cream and sweets, which she could smell within the living room.

When Tanya stepped into the living room, she was sent into a shock. It was not the living room she knew and ate in on other days.

It was a grand affair, reminiscent of a three-star Michelin restaurant, with chandeliers, old fashioned candles, and were those dishes dancing?

They were! They were arranging themselves around the table for one.

The old-fashioned candle came up before, coughed, and before it could speak, it was poofed away in a puff of green smoke, was a miniature version of her mom, but very green, not in a sick way.

It was literally a little woman who talked like her mom, walked like her mom, and was like her mom in every way. Except she was tiny. And had green skin. And for some reason, was wearing a tuxedo with a hat.

She smiled up at Tanya and guided her to her seat at the head of the table. In front of her, the green woman coughed, and breathed in to begin her song...

And shook her head, today was not her day. Instead, she pulled a tiny napkin from somewhere within her tux, and shook it a lot.

Then, like a magician, when she spun around, hiding herself with the piece of cloth, she was replaced once more by the candelabra.

The candelabra this time was different than the one earlier. More... cartoonish? It was much more easy to have fun than the earlier too-realistic one.

He coughed, and the song began, for reals this time.

It began slowly, like all of mom’s favorite songs did, with a solo. The candelabra was a remarkably good singer.

Ma chère Mademoiselle, it is with deepest pride
And greatest pleasure that we welcome you this morn
And now we invite you to relax
Let us pull up a chair as the dining room proudly presents
Your dinner!

He paused for dramatic effect as a plate popped up magically before Tanya with a cover, which she opened, revealing a mini-orchestra in the form of various silverware and cups, napkins and other absurdities.

Be our guest! Be our guest!
Put our service to the test
Tie your napkin 'round your neck, cherie
And we'll provide the rest

At this point, Tanya had given up applying logic to the situation, her mom had truly flabbergasted her and given her a birthday to remember, and it had barely been a few minutes since she woke up and she had not even started breakfast.

Soup du jour
Hot hors d'œuvres
Why, we only live to serve (I mean seriously, that aint no joke. That’s our whole schtick. Let's move on with our song, shall we? I sense death staring at me from somewhere. Where was I? Oh yes, the gray stuff, what is that again?)
Try the gray stuff, it's delicious

It truly was, and the candelabra was a good host, even if Tanya’s mom didn’t seem to think so.

Don't believe me? Ask the dishes
They can sing, they can dance
After all, Miss, this is France( Or at least, that is where we are supposed to be, miss. Don't quirk your eyebrows like that and simply enjoy.)
And a meal here is never second best
Go on, unfold your menu
Take a glance, and then you'll be our guest
Oui, our guest, be our guest.

Beef ragout, cheese souffle
Pie and pudding "en flambe"
We'll prepare and serve with flair a culinary cabaret

You're alone and you're scared
But the banquet's all prepared
No one's gloomy or complaining
While the flatware's entertaining

We tell jokes!(A lot, if do say so myself.winks) I do tricks
With my fellow candlesticks
And it's all in perfect taste that you can bet

Come on and lift your glass
You've won your own free pass
To be our guest
If you're stressed, it's fine dining we suggest
Be our guest! Be our guest! Be our guest!

Life is so unnerving
For a servant who's not serving
He's not whole without a soul to wait upon
Ah, those good old days when we were useful
Suddenly those good old days are gone

Ten years we've been rusting
Needing so much more than dusting
Needing exercise, a chance to use our skills
Most days we just lay around the castle
Flabby, fat and lazy
You walked in and oops-a-daisy

Be our guest! Be our guest!
Our command is your request
It's been years since we've had anybody here
And we're obsessed
With your meal, with your ease
Yes, indeed, we aim to please
While the candlelight's still glowing
Let us help you, we'll keep going

Course by course, one by one
'Til you shout, "Enough! I'm done!"
Then we'll sing you off to sleep as you digest
Today you'll prop your feet up
But for now, let's eat up
Be our guest!
Be our guest!
Be our guest!
Please, be our guest!

Truly, thought Tanya, she was a guest, and this was a breakfast worth getting wet and soggy over first thing in the morning.