Lilia's first year flew past her. When Lilia began talking, her family was ecstatic. In fact, she believed that her stumbling through the new words was being chalked up to baby speak. On occasion, she knew she spoke too coherently and caught her father staring at her. Unable to help with chores, Lilia spent most of her days bored.

In a world of magical toys, she ended up just sitting in the kitchen watching her new mother. Lilia suspected that anyone who knew her secret would accuse her of being a changeling. Medieval much?

But her secret was bursting inside of her. Lilia didn't want to return to Earth, but she didn't want to give up on her identity either. After a lot of thought--a peculiar expression on a cute baby like herself--she thought there were three things she wanted to hold onto from her old life.

First, she wouldn't forget her name. It was her anchor in this new world. Lilia knew without a doubt that all the mistakes she'd made in her past life changed who she was, and Lilia Hammond was the result. I may not like everything I chose about me then, but I wouldn't be me without that. And I have a fresh start here.

Second, Lilia refused to forget her father, Greggory Hammond. An art teacher and motorcycle enthusiast. His unwavering support of her fueled her dream, her third pillar.

She dreamed of becoming an artist worth her salt. Sure, there may not be computers in this world, so becoming a graphic designer would be challenging. Here she could make herself into this world's Michalgalo! The only thing holding her back was that art supplies in this world were crass.

While she saw painted signs and her family had four books, the ink was not easily procured. Her father used charcoal sticks to write down orders on a wall in the smithy. She managed to peek in before getting chased out by an apprentice.

So she asked her new mom for some clay. Poor Serabelle must have thought Lilia weird. They certainly had enough toys to pick from. The most extravagant, a magical box that projected different animals depending on which way she held it. But her mother seemed happy to buy her anything.

After they finished their morning chores (well, it was mostly Mother, but Lilia put away tableware), they left for the market. This time, Lilia fought off her mom and was determined to walk on her own two feet.

Lilia was dressed in a green skirt and a white shirt with red flowers on it. A cute pair of sandals completed her look. Lilia was starting to get the idea that her family was pretty well off. Perhaps not as rich as some of the nobles ordering fancy swords. But she never noticed her mother wearing the same outfits, and the magical toys couldn't be as cheap as the rag dolls other kids had.

She managed down the steps without falling. Just over a year passed and now I am descending steps like a goddess… a baby goddess. Watch me strut, she laughed to herself. Looking up at Mom, she expected to see a smile. Instead, she saw anger flash across her face. She was looking at the smithy just off the main house.

"Syndra, stay here for a moment; I am going to let your father know where we are going," Serabelle said.

"Yes, momma," Lilia said quickly. Serabelle patted her head before tucking a stray hair away behind Lilia's ear and storming inside.

For the first time, Lilia was left alone outside. This wasn't the first time Lilia had seen Mother angry. Usually, it was at the vendors trying to cheat her or in heated arguments with her father over a story or other nonsense. What she saw on her mother's face could best be described as cold.

The hammering inside of the building stopped, and curiosity pulled Lilia back to the doorway. She heard her mother's voice yelling but couldn't make out the words. Unable to resist knowing what was going on, she slipped inside. The apprentice at the counter had his back to her and was likewise peering into the smithy's main room. Lilia did her best to tiptoe up to the counter.

She glanced at the boy at the counter but mentally shrugged, figuring he'd notice her or he wouldn't. She could almost make out what her mother was saying. She padded past the distracted apprentice and made out the last words of the argument.

"...and you have no place being in my husband's smithy if you are selling our secrets with the world!"

"Misses Sanmey, no! Please listen!" a young man's voice begged. "It's not what it looks like. I needed the money for the house."

Lilia could see into the room now, and she got her first good look at where her father worked day-in and out.

The two-story building was separated into quadrants, with 3 corners of the room having furnaces. Anvils were set about the room with plenty of space between them. The room smelled strongly of unwashed men and burnt... burnt everything. Every spare inch of free space held prongs, tongs, hammers, and other smithing tools. The ground was surprisingly clean in contrast to the stains covering just about everything else.

What took most of her attention was the sight of her brother Daryl holding down another apprentice. She recognized the messy brown locks as one of the boys Antel had over for supper a couple of times. Lilia thought his name was Adam or Avery. He seemed nice enough, and he was hired just after she arrived in this world. He carried groceries back last week with her mother and Daryl.

Lilia thought he and Daryl were friends. Why are they fighting? Did Mother know something?

Her mother was pointing at a letter her father was reading carefully. Lilia could make out a stone glowing a soft blue in his hand. Adam was begging for the chance to explain, but nobody was listening. Everyone was watching her father.

"Hmph," he said, looking up from the letter. He made eye contact with everyone in the room. When he saw Lilia peering into the doorway, he might have pursued his lips but shook his head and turned back to the restrained young man. In a low tone, he asked the room, "What do I ask of any of you who work here?" The boy started struggling harder, and her brother pushed his face into the dirt. Daryl's face was the picture of betrayal and hurt. Antel continued, "All I ask is for your loyalty and willingness to learn. You know the laws. What is the price for stealing from a smith?"

"We take his hands," the entire room responded as one as if rehearsed.

"And for one who'd steal his knowledge?" The temperature in the room dropped despite the forges running. Everyone tried hard not to look at Adam's tear-streaked face; they tried not to hear his cries.

Without raising his voice, her father's words carried the answer, "We take his life." Her father's face held deep sorrow-but he was resolute.

The tension in the room couldn't be any higher. Lilia had only seen her father smile and laugh. Daryl was always happy. If anyone was going to be serious, it was soldier-brother, Jackson. Why was everyone acting crazy? Lilia didn't know what was going on. Everything was happening too fast. One second she'd been going on a shopping trip; the next, her father was proclaiming a death sentence?

"Arron Finley, I will offer you the choice. I knew your father, and he would be ashamed of you. I am ashamed of you. Will I take your head or your life?"

Ah. Arron. Lilia thought with a grimace. She watched with bated breath as her brother pulled Arron to his knees, and her mother set a silver-white spear to his throat. Where did that spear come from? Her father put a hand on her shoulder and shook his head. "Love, this is my responsibility. Thank you for looking out for me, but this is my smithy." With that, he walked over to a weapons rack and picked up a sword. Returning to Arron's side, he knelt and whispered in the boy's ear for a minute before standing up.

Aaron wiped his face clear of tears and snot. He cleared his throat and looked to her brother, "Daryl, look in on my brother every now and then?" Daryl looked sick but nodded glumly. "Antel, I took advantage of your kindness for the coin. I will work harder in the next life."

Lilia didn't have time for further thoughts as her father nodded at his words. She didn't have time to look away as he swung. There was something dark in her that was fascinated by how the blood seemed to stop in the air. Detached, she watched his head fall and slap the floor. She watched his eyes open despite being separated from the body. Blood pooled across the floor as Arron's corpse fell to the ground after a pause. Daryl stepped away from it with a hushed curse.

Her father's voice sounded as if far away, "Someone run for the guard and another should smelt his work; we cannot sell it. The rest of you..." his voice faded to the thrum of her heart racing in her head filled her ears.

Lilia had never seen death like this before. Her father on Earth died in a short but vicious battle against cancer. She held his hand as he passed. This was something different.

A primal feeling in her heart called to her. A pull in her chest wanted to drag her into the smithy. She saw the reflections of light playing on the blood. The blood staining the previously clean floor.

Her mother turned and saw her just as the horror of what happened took hold. Lilia screamed. She tripped over her feet as she tried to run. I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't have seen that.

Her mother appeared in front of her in an instant, scooping her up. She walked from the smithy in a hurry.

Lilia imagined she could still feel Arron's dead eyes watching her. Cursing her curiosity, she peered over her mother's shoulder. She saw Daryl wiping away tears and covering the body with a sheet. It darkened quickly.

Then Lilia caught the eye of her father. Watching her with a weird expression on his face-sadness but something else. Was he trying to apologize to her?

She wasn't scared of him for the murder. She didn't understand it, but she didn't understand a lot in this world. No, she was afraid of that feeling inside her. Why did she want to see the body? She wasn't sure she wanted to know what it was she felt.

So she defaulted to her usual excuse. I'm just a baby now. Lilia hid in her mother's hair and tried desperately to forget that feeling.

They didn't get the clay that day.