"Powerlessness and silence go together."

THREE YEARS AGO
28TH AUGUST, 2000

Her alarm was often silenced before it was ever given a chance to get going, for the young girl was always awake ahead of the time it rang nowadays. However, how could she not? With her foes still at large and her life constantly on the line, she couldn't help but sleep with her stuffed teddy bear, Tibbles, and one eye open.

Masking fear was a survival requisite in the inhospitable and supercilious kingdom she was born in — in the entire kingdom of Asia, to be precise. The Holders didn't have a reason to be afraid while the Powerless suppressed their terrors so to not showcase their weaknesses. But, it was all foolish, the girl believed.

The Powerless beings were weak. It wasn't their fault in the tiniest bit, nonetheless, it didn't matter how hard they puffed their chests or how loyal they were to each other. Every single one of them was fragile. Including her.

They were impotent — thrown to the very bottom of the food chain many centuries ago and were still down there even now. It was why they were known as the Powerless, to begin with. Yet, being one of them, the girl understood their fright. How could one not consistently fear for their life when danger was all they knew? How could any of the Powerless beings ignore the fact that one wrong word was more than enough to get them executed?

Her alarm clock may not have been ringing audibly early that morning, regardless, the girl hadn't woken up to complete silence, either. Her eyebrows forced together into a pronounced frown as soon as she was greeted with the sound of her mother's excruciating high-pitched voice screaming for her to come downstairs.

What was ever the point of all this? She frequently wondered this to herself. What was ever the point of being kept around, yet, still being treated like some emotionless doll?

Her mother often took time out of her morning to prepare breakfast for every mouth in the household. A sweet lady, one would see her as. Woefully, the woman never once cared to consider the young girl as family.

No matter the case, the girl was always referred to as 'child' or 'young lady', and whenever they were outside, her mother was seldom around her in hopes people wouldn't put two and two together and figure out they were mother and daughter. Adoptive mother, to be exact.

And this wasn't just her mother. It was everyone.

If she wasn't going to be regarded as a member of the family, why then were they still yet to put her back where they'd found her seven and a half years ago? She'd been picked up from one hell only to be placed in another.

Dwelling in a judgemental kingdom was barbarous enough. Being forced to live with a cavilling family that would, without fail, speak to her about how much of a failure she was everyday was a tremendous slap to the face. She commonly wondered if they would ever grow exhausted of their habits.

As if her mother's screams weren't sufficient, then came the aggravating noise of her bedroom door opening and banging shut several times. The loud creeks filled her ears, but, despite that, the girl was used to it enough not to make an ado about it. Her elder brother did this every morning, knowing full well that it was the best way to irk her on the inside. And though their parents were downstairs, picking up every sound, they would never bother to discipline him on his rash behaviour.

She jolted up from bed, a grunt fleeing her dry mouth while vexation filled her weary eyes. Too tired and mature to yell at her brother for the disturbance, the young girl eyed the small silver mirror she'd left on her nightstand, scanning the entirety of the item and taking in what she believed were her hideous features.

Or, so as she was told, at least.

She eventually glanced away from the mirror, and ignoring her ruffled black hair, squinted as she took a brisk glimpse of the room she was in. Her heart felt immediate heaviness upon seeing the familiar plain light pink wall and the ill-favoured baby blue carpet spread on the wooden floor. Then again, what had she been anticipating? To be out of this horrendous household as soon as her eyes fluttered open?

There was hope before — just a tiny flicker against the wind. With the open eyes of a child, she'd reached out, fingers extended. During that moment, people had a choice of kindness or cruelty. It took them no time to decide.

It wasn't a surprise that the Powerless beings had chosen to be kind. She was one of them, after all. And neither had it been a shock when the Holders chose to cast her away. How was it that these Holders witnessed the suffering of many and still decided to make it worse?

Their arrogance. Everything always had to be about them and their ego — their perfection.

What the girl needed was never going to come, and no matter how much she sought, she couldn't find the answer to all her problems. She'd finally come to admit she wasn't born for great things, nor to find her place in the sun. She could try everyday, work for what she wanted, but, there were no paths to success.

Not from here.

Another rough and aggravated groan escaped her mouth while she rubbed her dark, empty eyes, the troubling amount of crust lingering at the edges leaving her pestered.

Her mornings were so predictable that they often reminded her of those repetitive romance novels she'd read anytime she found herself bored out of her mind. Understanding what was next to come made her want to crawl back to her pillow. It was time to face the devils.

She hardly managed to make it out of her room without being tempted to throw her body back on the bed. It was the ear-piercing sound of her mother's voice again — which sounded angrier than the last — that ultimately shook her body from its deep slumber.

As she trudged down the stairs, a loud yawn was next to be released from her mouth. She drowned in satisfaction while stretching her body. The girl wasn't certain how many times she'd wished she could actually drown.

There was a short pause made before her feet stepped inside the kitchen. Three pairs of eyes immediately darted up to glance at her with faces scrunched up in annoyance. Staring down at their half-empty plates, the girl could see they'd already begun eating without her.

Again.

Her father seemed to follow her eyes, his own docking on the dishes. He scoffed. "You're fortunate we were kind enough to even call you down. Must you always wake up so late?"

"I'm terribly sorry." Nowadays, despite her father's cold words, the girl didn't mind. She shoved aside the feeling of being left out and turned to leave without another word uttered.

"Come back here, young lady!"

Right then and there, she could feel her entire figure begin to tremble as soon as her mother called for her. Hundreds of Powerless beings may have excelled at masking their fear, yet, she wasn't one of them. The youngster gradually whirled around to face her family again, their glaring eyes boring into her frightened ones.

"I need to go brush my tee—"

"We will not accept this kind of act from you, young lady!" the woman cut her off with an exasperated shout, pointing a steady finger.

Her daughter knew what was coming, and though she was tempted to dash off, she was aware of the punishment behind that manner.

"If you want to be a part of this family, then perhaps, start by helping out with breakfast," the woman carried on with wrath, her finger slowly lowering. "Goodness! So unwise."

The girl grumbled under her breath but dared not speak her thoughts. To do so was the equivalent of begging for an execution.

No matter what it was that she did in an attempt to impress them, they always pushed aside her efforts and concentrated on her flaws, instead. Finding a reason to, all the time, they looked down upon her. Perhaps, being used to their disappointment was a good thing now, after all, that was three fewer people to awe.

While her brother was a troublemaker, keen on bringing excitement to his life everyday, her parents were sticklers for perfection, especially her mother. The woman was consistently quick to grow sensitive even over the slightest problems, one of those being people arriving tardy to something she considered important.

"May I go now?"

"No!" Her mother scowled, taking her seat again, in the process. "Like it or not, child, you're part of this family. You must assist one way or another. This rule goes without saying."

The girl blinked, staring at all three of them with lips pressed together. Her sadness was that they broke their promise to cherish and love, to protect, to honour and care for her. Yet, her face was dry. Her feet had already moved on. She was older and wiser — much more intelligent than the young and naive child who dreamt of a better kingdom many months ago.

She should have been raised in love and peace, taught to show grace and forgiveness. But, whenever her mind turned to them, she was constantly met with the complete opposite.

They were aware of what they were doing. She suffered and they drank it like fine wine, becoming intoxicated on their own power. All she felt was bitterness and with each passing year, it grew like a malignancy.

"Am I not good enough for you, Mother?"

That was the second time in seven years she was asking this — a question she believed was pathetic, but couldn't help asking.

The woman formed another look of fury upon hearing the words. "You are so full of yourself, aren't you? You really believe I should be proud of the person you've become? Think of all those other precious girls out there that can make their mothers smile without lifting a finger. And then, there's you. Why can't you ever be more like them? You've never brought a smile to my face, Ivy Pearls!"

And that was the first time in two years her mother had ever referred to her by her name.

She'd swept and mopped the floor yesterday. Vacuumed the rugs, the carpet, and made sure to wash the dishes and kitchenware.

The girl never forgot to change and wash the bedding weekly. Two days ago, she'd even been the one to prepare and cook dinner when another family dropped by for a visit.

Regardless of her mother's harsh words, she knew better. It wasn't about helping around the house. It'd never been about that.

It was about her status as a Powerless being that her family was simply ashamed of.

"Now, before this wretched girl interrupts me again,"—as she spoke, the woman gazed from her husband, who shook his head with disbelief, to her son, who failed to erase the smirk plastered on his smug face—"I'd like to bring everyone's attention to two important forthcoming events. These events are being hosted by the Royals themselves, and they've asked me personally to help set them up."

For her mother, it was always the Royals this, the Royals that. She worshipped them in such a way that her daughter found absurd. But, the worst part was that she wasn't the only one obsessed. It was preposterous how the Royals were like idols to these Holders.

"The Royal family has decided to host a party, in which only important people can attend," her mother proceeded with such eagerness that made her look like a child. "Since your father is tremendous friends with King Titus and I am one of Queen Matilda's loyal assistants, we've been invited. Oh, this is so exciting! Every one of you must dress your very best. We do not want to be seen as an embarrassment there."

Ivy Pearls felt all three pairs of eyes on her as soon as the last word rolled off the woman's tongue. Right.

She was the only embarrassment here.

"During the party, a small talent show will be held for you youngsters to show off the magic you possess and wow the audience."

The young girl could discern her elder brother attempting to stifle a laugh, however, he couldn't help but nearly choke on the food he'd been chewing on. Ivy was almost certain his sudden outburst had something to do with her. There was no questioning it.

"And, what is it that is so funny to you, Alvin?" The woman faced her son with raised eyebrows, sending a challenging glance towards the boy. "Laughing at something I said. Are you already learning from your good-for-nothing sister?"

"She is not my sister!" Alvin insisted. Laughter altered into giggles. Moments later, the boy had control over his behaviour, anxiously staring at his mother with a sincere, apologetic look.

"It's just that. . ." His hand raised, a finger pointed directly at the silent girl. "I suppose she won't be joining any of these two events, huh? What has Ivy got to show? Absolutely nothing. As you stated before, Mother, she's only an embarrassment to this family — to this entire kingdom, in fact. Leave her behind."

The callous words uttered out of her own brother's mouth weren't shocking to hear, yet, they still stung. Ivy gazed down at the floor with a dispirited look, itching to find a well-thought-out reply to throw back at him.

"Ivy hasn't got an Amulet," Alvin finished.

The next thing she knew, she behaved out of sudden wrath, her palm whacking the dining table with force before she could take a second to think. "That shouldn't mean anything."

Her father's mouth hung agape, a hand pressed against his chest as a dramatic gasp left his mouth. "Without Amulets, you're known as a shame to this kingdom. You know this, Ivy. It should mean something and it does. Alvin is absolutely correct. Learn to handle the truth."

Of course, he's correct.

The quivering girl exhaled shakily, unable to calm the sudden urge to break down into tears. It would only be moments now before that time came, regardless, that was the last thing she wanted.

Alvin would snicker harder and her parents would grow even more disgruntled than they were now, dismissing her tears as nothing more than a disturbance. Repeatedly being reminded of how different she was from what was seen as normal always had a way of making her go weak. She was never good enough.

She was never going to be.

"Ah, and here rolls down the tears." Her father threw his arms in the air, shooting a look of irritation towards her way. "It isn't our fault you haven't got an Amulet, Ivy. How many more times must we have this conversation? Do you still remember that we aren't your real parents and Alvin isn't your real brother?"

The man emphasized the word 'real', knowing she would only sob harder over it. It wasn't just the fact she was adopted that pained her. No, it was the knowledge that even her own parents had thrown her away. The fact that a necklace chose the entire fate of an individual.

"How about you blame the two useless human beings that gave birth to such an unfortunate girl like you?" her mother was next to bark. "They're the true cause of your misery. Blame it on them because we all know it's their fault."

Her father bolted up from his seat, the legs of the chair scraping against the floor as it was pushed back. "You're lucky we were kind enough to pick you up at your lowest — to turn you into a decent child when you were seen as wholly nothing. Show some respect while you're under our roof, Ivy!"

"And what did we say about crying?" her mother was quick to add. "Goodness, you look uglier with those awful tears staining your cheeks. Wipe them off! I don't want to be looking at something so repugnant."

With trembling hands, Ivy swiped a thumb over the fresh wave of tears that had brimmed under her eyes. Acknowledging she was never going to be seen as someone worthy of respect unless she received an Amulet of her own, she faced the exit of the kitchen. Woefully, it was too late.

Even so, the young girl could not bring herself to bash her biological parents, in spite of the fact others claimed so aggressively that it was their fault. All she never really understood was the reasoning behind their decision to leave her to live such a miserable life. Her misfortune commenced as soon as the Pearls family found her by the river several years ago.

Or perhaps, her misfortune truly began as soon as she'd passed the age of seven with no necklace hanging around her neck.