Delia finally had everything and was enjoying every single day. She and Adrian still adored each other, their two sons were healthy and prospering and for the first time in her life she could do anything she wanted while someone else worked for her.
She wouldn't admit it, but there were times when the last part was what felt the best. After a whole life of hard work and keeping her head down she was suddenly a lady with a maid of her own and could do whatever she wanted. And if she wanted to have a hot bath with Adrian, she didn't have to care how Amber felt about carrying endless buckets of water.

Amber had originally been happy for the opportunity to get out of her cramped house and exchange being an unpaid nanny to her siblings for being a nanny with real pay. She even accepted all the other chores that came with the position, but that was before she learned how much more work there was in a big house. And there was one more thing, one she had not expected. Back at home everyone shared her misery and her younger siblings were annoying, but still there were ways to have fun.
Her new lord was a pompous fool and her lady was a girl no better than herself who suddenly didn't feel like changing diapers. Amber at least tried to make use of everything the big house was offering her, but it was getting hard to hide how annoyed she was.

Edric tried to be friendly with Amber at the start, but soon he became confident in his new role and he started cultivating other friendships.
He was sure it made sense for him to meet Nadine Lorimer and spend time with her. They were the same age and as Adrian's son he was, after all, the most suitable companion around. But when it happened he was still at least partly surprised that the girl's still grieving and fiercely protective mother was willing to let her out of her sight. Nadine herself would worry about anything and everything, but she seemed excited and friendly and Edric did his best to make a good impression. He was a noble now, but Nadine was the only Lorimer heiress.

Life went by, easy and comfortable, until summer turned into autumn and cold days brought illness with them.
Adrian was the first to get sick and felt as if his newly found luck was running through his fingers and disappearing before his eyes. He remembered the days just before his son and lord Anselm died, the frantic desperation and the dark cloud that had not left the Lorimer Manor since, and he kept quiet. He didn't believe it could be anything serious, didn't want to believe it. If there was anything he hated, it was feeling weak and not in control.
Even when Delia became sick as well, he still closed his eyes, still refusing to believe it could be anything serious.

Delia tried to follow Adrian's lead, but she couldn't help worrying as she watched his health slowly worsen. And then the boys became sick as well and wouldn't improve no matter what she did and it was as if her dream had turned into a nightmare. It was as if she wasn't meant to be truly happy and careless.
Adrian tentatively suggested she moved back to her parents, but to Delia that sounded too much like admitting utter failure. At the new mansion they had all possible comfort and she couldn't see any reason to give that up. Even accepting other help from her parents made Delia feel like she had failed, like she wasn't as good a wife and mother that she should be, just like she hadn't been a good daughter. Once a disappointment, always a disappointment. But her mother insisted, and her soup had helped once before.
When Delia's attempts at the recipe didn't bring any change, Alysanne started coming over herself. But if there was any magic in the soup, it seemed too weak to win over the illness. If it really was an illness and not a punishment or a curse.

Delia tried to tell herself she had done nothing that would deserve such a punishment, that unlike her mother she didn't even believe in punishments of this kind. And she certainly didn't believe in curses. But she started praying to the Watcher every day and she prayed harder than she had ever done in her life.

She had been so worried about her sons that it never occured to her that her husband, always strong and confident, could be in any danger. His cough was still there, but it never seemed that serious. Or maybe it was just that Adrian was too good at hiding how bad he really felt.
And then Adrian and died and Delia's world, her whole new perfect life, came crashing down.
She was angry at Adrian for not saying anything and most of all she was angry at herself for not noticing anyway. She was blaming herself for not finding any help and couldn't imagine that guilt would ever go away.

After Adrian's death everything seemed to stop. The boys were heartboken and Delia did her best to be there for them, but nothing seemed real anymore.
And then came the funeral. Edric took charge of it, stepping up to his new role and responsibility as Adrian's heir. He said all his father wanted was to leave a legacy, to not only provide for his family but to establish something that would last, and Delia supposed he was right. It was just hard for her to think of future generations when she was all but paralysed with fear over the current one.
The funeral was held in the Ferndean valley as the place where Adrian's legacy would continue, but was no less dignified. The priest's speech was sombre and dignified, whole family was gathered to suport and console Delia and her sons. Everything seemed exactly as it should be, but as Tristan watched the proceedings, it was all completely wrong.
He watched Edric standing in the centre and felt ignored, almost as if he didn't matter, even though he should be the one receiving condolences and accepting his father's title. Almost as if he wasn't there at all. And then Edric walked around he mourners, thanking everybody and receiving one more round of condolences. Tristan looked into his face, more determined than sad, and he just couldn't take it anymore, not after Edric took everything from him.
"Don't you dare." He growled at Edric, taking a step towards him. "Don't you dare flount your false title at me. I should be the one stepping into my father's shoes, so don't you dare pretend you are better than me."
The boy's face grew dark but he seemed unable to speak, and for the first time in weeks Tristan felt someone really saw him. He wanted to continue, but then he just spat at Edric.
Even the slap he received in response didn't lessen the satisfaction Tristan was feeling at that moment. He just returned it with even more force.

All world seemed to shrink to that one moment, that one feeling, and the two rivals. They were both too angry to even feel pain, let alone take notice of anything from the outside world. But before the fight could escalate much further, the outside world intervened.
Even when the priest and William, drawing on his authority of a guard, dragged them apart, Tristan was still focused solely on Edric.

Part of him was even glad Edric would get what he deserved, he was sure now everybody would see how imaginary and fake his title and position were.
He believed it until the very moment he was sentenced to pillory for attacking a noble, the poor, sick Edric who was somehow everybody's golden-haired boy. It was so unjust he wanted to scream and only the image of even worse humiliation made him grit his teeth and keep quiet.
He had lost his shield and if he wanted to get back at Edric, he would have to find a new one.

Poor sick Edric, meanwhile, was feeling worse with every day and the illness didn't take notice of titles. Alysanne was still coming with her soup, desperate to make it work, but the almost magical healing quality seemed to be gone for good.
The only visible effect of all her care and worry was that she herself got ill as well.
Days turned into weeks and while Delia and little Lucien slowly recovered, Edric was feeling worse with every day. He was so afraid he even started praying alongside his mother as a last resort, but still he felt his life slowly draining away. It was as if his new title was weighing him down and not letting him breathe. He even had moments when he thought of letting it go, but then he always thought of Tristan. He didn't want to let him win.
But days passed and Edric grew weaker, until he had no strength left at all.

Delia could feel the dark figure even before she saw Edric collapse. She would swear there was something cold and looming in the air. And then her son was lying on the floor, trying to breathe and not able to, and there was a hooded figure over him, reaching for his life. without thinking, she hrew herself between them, wanting to protect her son with her own body when everything else had failed.

What happened next was a blur of shock, grief and desperation. The dark figure shifted its terrible attention to her and that alone almost made Delia lose her mind. Everything in her body urged her to fly or to fall on her face and sink into merciful unconsciousness. But there was her son and that was the only thing stronger than that instinct. She stood her ground.
She was vaguely aware the figure told her something and that she complied, but it was all behind a grey veil in her mind, protecting her from the madness that was lying behind. All she saw was her son and all she knew was that she would do everything in her power to protect him.
And all she knew that somehow she was successful, that eventually the dark one nodded its head, Edric floated into the air, still lifeless and then drew a long breath and opened his eyes.

It was this that fully broke her. Seeing her son lifeless on the floor was terrible, but what the dark figure did was just unnatural and somehow impossible to comprehend.
She thought she would finally faint, but that was a mercy she wasn't granted. The grey veil was torn away and Delia sank to the floor, lost in the horrors flooding from it.
The Grim Reaper took one more look at Edric, whose shock was slowly being replaced by pure joy of being alive, and vanished.

The next few days Delia didn't remember at all. She supposed she had slept and eaten, but she was still stuck somewhere behind the grey veil, still struggling to make sense of what was real and what wasn't. Her baby was dead and gone. She knew that, because there were no babies in the house, no matter how hard she looked. Her white knight was dead and gone and nobody who was left around her looked familiar. Was there anything left in the real life that would be worth coming back to? Wouldn't it be better to simply stay in the grey zone, where she at least had ghosts of those she loved?

During this time Edric did his best to act as the man of the family and take care of both his mother and his little brother, despite his own nightmares. He had Amber keep the household clean and the family fed, he helped Lucien with his schooling and did his best to play the part of a noble, but the state of his mother worried him. Especially after days turned to weeks and she was still lost in her own world and barely noticed her own family.
His own nightmares he tried hard to not think about. And if there were moments late at night when hiw own sense of reality seemed shifting and fragile, the feeling always passed before sunrise.
He just hoped one night it wouldn't come back at all.