Chapter 14: Mother’s Invitation and the Poisoned Banquet
649words
The messenger stood in front of me, dressed in the formal uniform of the Inner Clan.
For a moment, I had the overwhelming urge to run.
Firewood muttered under his breath, “She sure knows how to pick a time—right after you found the dungeon, now she sends you an invite?”
Raccoon scratched his head. “You think she knows?”
I smiled faintly. “Of course she knows. Every time she invites me to dinner, it’s not for the food—it’s to see how well I digest her... information.”
Amy looked worried. “You’re really going? She’s your enemy!”
I patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’m not dumb enough to eat from her poisoned bowl.”
But I still went.
I put on the Gray Tower’s only vaguely decent outfit, tied my hair back, and brought Firewood and the wolf pup as my “attendants.”
As soon as I stepped into the Inner District, I could smell it.
Not food.
But the thick scent of plot, slow-cooked with spices and served with a silver knife.
“Well, well, my dear daughter.”
My mother stood at the head of the long table, draped in silver robes, smiling warmly, not a crack in her perfect face.
“You’ve lost weight.”
I sat down with a smile of my own. “And you’ve still got such a healthy appetite.”
Her eyes flickered. “You’ve been busy lately.”
I shrugged. “Just trying to survive.”
The banquet began.
The table was lined with dishes I barely recognized from books—Goldwolf tail stew, blackfire mushroom roast, moon-salted buns...
Things I never had the right to eat.
She raised her glass. “Try this. I picked it myself.”
I raised mine in turn. “How thoughtful—”
And then, gently tipped the wine straight onto the carpet.
Silence fell like a hammer.
I set the empty glass down. “You know how my stomach is. Especially when it comes to your taste in wine.”
Her smile twitched—but she didn’t lash out.
“You’ve gotten clever.”
I smiled. “You taught me well.”
She tapped her glass, voice soft:
“I hear you’ve been looking into things you shouldn’t.”
“Maybe you’ve misunderstood me.”
I looked straight at her. “Then explain—which part did I get wrong?”
She gave a gentle laugh. “Don’t you think every tribe needs sacrifice for order to survive?”
“Your sister… was too idealistic.”
“But you? You’re more like me.”
I let out a short, bitter laugh. “I’m nothing like you.”
“I don’t pave roads with bodies just so I can walk alone.”
Her smile faded slightly. “Then how do you plan to walk?”
“I’ll walk with others. Even if it’s slower. Even if we fall.”
She stood, walked to my side, and leaned in.
“Daphne, you’re still young.”
“You think slaves can change anything? They fear you only because you haven’t failed yet.”
“The first time you fall to your knees, they’ll step on your back and leave you behind.”
I looked up at her, voice calm and clear.
“Then I won’t kneel.”
Before the banquet ended, she handed me a ‘gift’—a formal decree.
“Transfer of Autonomous Control of the Gray Tower to Daphne.”
“I’m granting you freedom—to do what you want.”
I stared at her unreadable face, thoughts racing.
Was this a concession?
Or bait?
Back at the Gray Tower, I slapped the decree onto the table.
“We’re official now,” I said.
Amy blinked. “For real?”
Firewood was more practical. “Does that mean we get rations now?”
Raccoon jumped. “Can I be vice-captain?!”
I smiled. “Don’t celebrate too soon.”
“You think she gave us a gift?”
“No—what she gave us…”
“Looks more like a well-decorated grave.”
That night, I climbed to the rooftop and looked toward the Inner Camp.
Lights burned bright in the darkness, flickering like watchful eyes.
And I said, softly to myself:
Come on, then.
I’m not afraid to die.
But you better be ready—
Because I’m your creation.
