Mara and Kinship of Diellor

Fear of Flames

Mara was always glad she decided not to serve dinner on cold wintry days like this. She had bought a new heating system for the building but couldn't afford new insulation for anywhere but the eating section of the diner, so the kitchen was always chilly. She looked glanced around, and then quickly checked the runes on the door and walls. There was no evidence of tampering, and no one appeared to be watching the storefront. She doubted that anyone would target her anyway, she always had made a concerted effort to stay out of the politics rocking the city. She maintained cordial relationships with the vampire bar The Ivory Canine next door of course, though how they were so popular with a name like that she could never understand. Mara and the owner went way back, but she refused to involve herself in his affairs any more than she had to. After all, she had learned her lesson very young.

A little over a century and a half prior, she and her family all lived in a lovely house in another land. The country itself had long since shattered into pieces, and the region she was from was now shut off from the rest of the world and in the grips of an ongoing war with the regions around it. It at one point had the highest density of magic users and magic races in the world, as the surrounding regions, now their own countries, had begun restricting any magic users who were "tainted" with demon blood. This whole idea was ridiculous, as every magic on earth, demon or otherwise, came from the same source. The idea that demon magic was somehow corrupting or evil was based only on semantics, as there was no way to distinguish demon magic from any other magic besides the symbols in which the magic was written. Chthon, a form of spirituality practiced by peoples magic and non magic alike began to be associated with "corrupted" magics because of close ties to many communities, such as vampire covens and pods of sirens, typically associated with demons. Mara had hazy memories of her grandmother taking in anyone who came to the door and asked for shelter, sitting with strangers around their thick wooden slab of a table as the family broke bread with their guests. She celebrated the blood moon with local covens in extravagant nighttime celebrations, and sat at the hearths of witches while her grandmother visited.

This sort of hospitality Mara still attempted to practice even in the new world. She gave away all of her excess food to local homeless shelters, as well as donating her time and money to such programs. All this and more was demanded by her faith, and what she offered was bare minimum at best.

Even hospitality was not the downfall of her family, as it cultivated goodwill and close ties with neighbors and community members. Her uncle's protesting in other regions of the national government and outspoken support for radical Chthonian leaders was what brought suspicion down on the family. Her uncle disappeared, and was found dead of an opioid overdose a few days later. Mara's mother would swear that her brother had never touched such substances in his life, he would barely drink even on high holidays, and his death brought great suspicion. Her grandfather started an investigation, but it led nowhere. As people learned of her uncle's death, he became somewhat of a folk hero martyr for the cause; this brought down greater scrutiny upon her family as his face was painted on walls and printed in papers.

Despite the controversy of her uncle's death, Mara knew her family was well respected, so any public insult or degradation of her family by those in charge would lead to poorer public relations with the locals. And with what was going on in other regions, relations were already at an all time low. Her grandparents became more involved in the protests, directly funding many of the peaceful groups and speaking out in defense of persons detained for dissent. While they feared somewhat for their safety, with the current politics anything done by the national government had to be under the table. After a few poorly attempted assassinations, everything returned somewhat to normal and Mara's family thought they were safe. Unfortunately, the quiet only lulled the household into a false sense of security.

One night, after her parents, siblings and her had been out visiting her father's relatives, they arrived home to find the entirety of the family mansion in flames. The white hot, raging fire lit up the area as if it were day, with searing heat that nipped the face and burned the eyes. Her extended family, servants, and even most of their crops and livestock had been completely obliterated in what newspapers called "a freak lantern accident". Her parents knew better. After quickly digging up some resources her grandparents had set aside, as well as the most valuable and portable family heirlooms, her parents set off for the coast with Mara and her siblings, desperate to get away.

From this whole ordeal, although Mara was young, she learned to survive by keeping her head down. In times of political strife, she watched others who fancied themselves revolutionaries be consumed by their own flame. Though things never were as bad as her home country, she knew that did not mean they would never be. In fact, in the three weeks the sea voyage took across the ocean, her country had gone from an uneasy peace to a bloody civil war. Her family were immediately accepted in as refugees helped in part by her father slipping the immigration agent a small opal from the family fortune. She had started with nothing and had built herself a comfortable life, and she was not about to risk it quarreling with some hot-headed anarchists.

"Hey!"

With a jolt, Mara returned to the sidewalk in front of her restaurant. She realized she had been staring aimlessly at her awning for the better part of an hour. The bouncer, Nikolai, was already standing in front of the club, though patrons would not be arriving for another hour or so.

"Did you have a nice nap?" The vampire asked cheerfully, and when she could only blink at him stupidly he continued, "you are lucky I was out here early, there was a pickpocket sizing you up a few minutes back."

That got a chuckle, which broke the remaining haze of her reverie. Mara mustered up some pep as she replied, "He can have my three dollars and he's welcome to it. The tips were shit today." She unlocked the door leading to the apartment above the diner and slipped inside and up the stairs.

"Have a good one Mara," he shouted as the wind slammed the door shut behind her.