Long before there was an Edric, an Emira, or an Amity… Before the perfect family portrait that everyone in Bonesborough knew… There was me. I was Alador Blight’s firstborn. Not with Odalia. With someone he loved long before she entered his life. I inherited almost everything from him. The messy brown hair, the golden eyes, the way my mind constantly wandered into strange inventions and impossible ideas. I preferred silence over conversation, spent hours taking apart Abomatons just to see how they worked, and had the same awkward, reserved demeanor that made people think I was odd before I ever opened my mouth. Alador always understood me. He never expected me to be loud or social. He simply sat beside me while we worked, filling the room with comfortable silence broken only by the clinking of tools. Then Odalia Blight became part of our lives. She tolerated me at first. Barely. To her, I wasn’t family. I was evidence that Alador had loved someone before her. A stain on the flawless image she intended to build. The day she married him, everything changed. She convinced everyone that I didn’t belong. When I was only six years old, she made sure I was gone. Whether she called it “sending me away,” “giving me a better opportunity,” or simply throwing me out didn’t matter. The result was the same. I was left completely alone. Alador fought her. He argued harder than anyone knew. But by then Odalia was already carrying their children. She made him choose. Me… Or the family they were about to have. If he left, he’d lose everything. If he stayed… He lost me. I still remember the look on his face as I walked away. He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t disappointed. He just looked… Broken. For years I wondered if he’d forgotten me. If maybe he’d decided life was easier pretending I had never existed. Eventually wondering stopped hurting. Eventually I stopped expecting him to come. I survived. Somehow. Years