The four sisters all had their specialties. Like all four seasons, each a bit different. But at the same time, not so disparate at all.

As the hour of dawn awoke and the sun peeked out from the depths of its slumber, four sisters arose for the day ahead of them.

Anastasia, the eldest, padded down the endless spiral of stairs. With a mane of fire—her hair—and dark eyes that masked the chaos beneath, her fragile fingers trailed down to touch the glass in her pocket. It was a simple red marble, so simple even a villager would cast the object away without a second thought. It may have been an adorned piece to all others, only to her, it held much more meaning. The coldness of its surface pressed against her skin and a devilish smile curled onto her lips. Wickedness coursed through her veins and havoc whispered to her, calling out her name. The shadows clawed at her heartstrings and pleasure filled her within. The marble wasn't just a marble. It was much more, a friend and long-life companion. Life bustled under the surface and she could, if quiet enough, hear the slight rustling of autumn leaves nipping her ear and frigidness shaking her bones. Beneath its vermilion hue, held a past only one so wise could understand.

Breanna, the second oldest, followed behind her sister. She was the only one of the four with black hair, and nearly always had it tied in a slick knot at the base of her neck. Her eyes, identical to all her sisters', glinted in the morning light. They gleamed with a shine that only the highest and the richest could achieve. She had her marble, a small one the color of the greenest grass and the deepest envy. Much like her sister's, the marble was simple and seemed to be a mere piece of glass, but it held so much more than a color. It held her wishes, her hopes, and her dreams. Her smile grew on her face, her hand gently cradling her marble. To any other, her smile would seem kind and caring. But to her, it was a bitter reward of her journey. Her journey was nearly over and would make it all worth it.

Cauli, the third oldest and second youngest, was the flower. Head bowed, she trailed behind her older sisters, her earthy chestnut hair falling over her face. She carried a book in one hand and a plush box in her other. The box was a yellow, the color of the rising sun, matching the marble it contained. Dark eyes stayed fixated on the floor, following the tile pattern as she walked. Her lips were tilted in a small smile that only the shadows could see, and her toes tapped gently on the ground. She often carried flowers around and spent most of her time in the garden or the library. It was rare to hear her raise her voice, she tended to prefer quiet, peaceful conversations as opposed to loud arguments.

Dagne, the youngest of the four, was the summer of the sisters. Though, so early in the breaking sky, she rushed down the twisted stairs in a frenzy of emotions. Her face was lit and her light hair danced behind her as she ran. She clutched the purple marble in her calloused hands, euphoria jolting through her like lightning bolts. Flowers blossomed on her skin where there once were wounds and her companion, Death, followed shortly behind, grudgingly. Her elder sisters called after her in impatience for she was the last to arrive at the table.

"What took you so long, beloved sister?" Anatasia spoke. Her voice had been crafted by an angel's soul and a bird's song, creating music to one's ears. All the men in South Neaslands fell for the beauty of her words and the flickers of evil in her gazes. She cast an angered glare at Dagne before dropping it. Anastasia knew she would get the same response she got every time—"Death made me wait."

Dagne's sisters were all mesmerizing souls, each unique in their own way. They were kindred spirits who had come from a long line of riches and glory. Though they seemed sweet, the youngest couldn't help, but feel alone. Only she could see the shadow looming over her each and every day while all the others mocked her.

"Stop with such nonsense," Breanna had said one afternoon in the ballroom. "You're wasting your time. Focus on your studies." So Dagne focused on her studies.

"Imagination can be deadly, dear Dagne," Cauli warned while her attention was averted to her flowers. "You shall not play with it." So Dagne stopped playing.

"Your brain is playing tricks on you," Anastasia apprised when her voice was drowned by the sound of the piano. "Tell it to stop." So Dagne told it to stop.

All of Dagne's sisters were blessed with exceptional gifts. Anastasia could play any instrument presented to her and could sing with beauty akin to her looks. Breanna was extraordinarily graceful on her toes and could dance with a lightness only seen in the wind. Cauli was blessed with the ability to perfectly arrange any flower and was known as the best florist in all the lands. But poor Dagne, she was cursed with a gift everyone craved to possess.

Despite their arts, each of the four sisters had their marble, and all four of them guarded theirs with their lives.

Each marble was one of a kind, crafted from the finest minerals bathed in crystal waters, picked from flower fields, burned in raging fires, and planted in lush gardens. Colored with the brightest stardust, each of the marbles held the purest of elements and the sweetest of love.

But they also contained the darkest of hatred. The sisters had been gifted these glass figures years ago, though, deep within them all, they knew everything came with a price. The balance must always be maintained. If unsuccessful, there was a cost too great to name. So the sisters held their promises, ruling the land they held in their grasps for the possibility haunted their minds and each perceived it would forever be that way.

Death had whispered in Dagne's ears since the day that she got her marble. Death told her what to do, and she listened. She trusted Death—more than she had ever trusted her sisters—and she never hesitated to follow his instructions.

"Come dear beloved," her second-eldest sister graciously sang. It was the sound of ballet shoes hitting the ground and classical music dancing in the air. "We shall not begin our day without all four of us gathered." Breanna waved her little sister over to the table where her siblings sat, quietly and elegantly waiting to eat their breakfast. A false smile lingered on her lips and after much hesitation, Dagne lifted her purple dress off the ground to take a seat on her chair.

Cauli paid no attention to Dagne, instead, keeping her attention on her book about lilies. It wasn't unusual for Cauli to ignore Dagne, only ever acknowledging her presence when spoken to first.

Anger and seriousness radiated from Anastasia. She was the eldest of the group and the most motherly of the four. She would complain about every little mistake the others did. If Breanna didn't nail her pirouettes or stay on beat, she'd instruct her to begin again, this time with more concentration. If Cauli misplaced a flower in her bouquet, she would have her take it all apart and redo it. If Dagne did not watch her mouth, she'd offer her a glare filled with disapproval and disappointment. Despite her cold-hearted attitude, she kept the household to their duties and in perfection.

Death didn't like Anastasia. He didn't like any of Dagne's sisters.

"Good morning, my sisters," Anastasia greeted them in a volumized tone. Her gaze fell on Dagne and her face morphed into a bitter look. "And thank you—at least most of you—for being on time."

Dagne turned her head around to face Death who leaned against the wall. She was hoping for some support from him, but he merely rolled his eyes and kept quiet.

"Before we eat, I have some matters to discuss with you all," she announced. A maid interrupted her, rushing over to hand each of the sisters their plate of food before quickly disappearing into the twisting maze of the house once again. With an irritated frown etched on her face, Anastasia continued. "Before we eat, I would like you all to know that the Lords are visiting at dusk and I expect you all to be on your best behavior."

A groan escaped Cauli's lips and she drew her attention away from her book. "But the Lords were over merely a fortnight ago! Why do they have to visit again?"

"Because," Anastasia began, exchanging an agitated glare with the second-youngest. "We are important women and they are important men. It's our duty to form alliances with them for the well-being of our lands."

"By alliance, do you mean courtship?" Breanna asked, her voice laced with excitement.

Anastasia paused for a moment before replying, "That is... likely."

A shrill of exhilaration came from Breanna, and Cauli grimaced at the thought of courtshipping with the Lords. She only cared about her beloved flowers.

Dagne locked eyes with Death, sorrow, and worry mixed in her expression. Death's countenance held no emotions and was difficult to decipher.

"What if I don't want to court one of the Lords?" Dagne whispered, fear coursing through her. She was young, much younger than all her sisters. Did she want to settle now when life had just begun?

"You don't have a choice," Anastasia replied. "Either you choose failure for the lands or a brighter future for us all. Now, eat your morning meal."

Cauli closed her book, knowing that reading during mealtimes was unacceptable.

While the others ate their breakfast with elegance, Dagne sat there, refusing to eat. She watched as Death walked towards her. He placed a hand on her shoulder and glared at her. Dagne glared right back at him but grudgingly started to eat.

Silence embraced the table and merely the sound of chewing and cutlery clinking against the plates echoed in the big room. Anastasia sat at the head of the table, watching all her sisters eat with the elegance of royalty, and smiled, pleased.

But just as the orderly setting had begun, it was disrupted just as fast.

Dagne hesitantly stood up, catching the attention of Anastasia, Breanna, and Cauli. Shock radiated from Anastasia, not believing that the tranquility of mealtime had been destroyed. Dagne was usually one of the quieter, innocent ones at the table although the bubbliest person of the four. It was uncommon for such an action, such as rising from her seat, to come from Dagne.

Stepping out from in front of her chair, Dagne held out her hands. A gasp erupted from the sisters' mouths. In Dagne's trembling hands sat one red, one green, one yellow, and one purple marble. Their marbles.

They rose from their seats, watching in horror as the youngest held all four marbles. How she had stolen them from the pockets of their flamboyant dresses, they didn't know, but that didn't matter now. All that mattered was that they got their marbles back, safely.

"Dagne," Anastasia breathlessly exhaled. She stared at her younger sister with caution. "Put our marbles down."

Dagne let no words pass from between her lips, only allowing her eyes to meet each of her sisters'.

Cauli and Breanna took gentle steps forward, hoping to grab the marbles they had so carefully protected for fifteen years. Confusion and tension rang through the air. Both of the ladies, so focused on reaching Dagne quietly, didn't notice that their priceless marbles were falling until it was too late.

The sisters watched as their precious marbles smashed on the tile floor, shattering into a million tiny shards and releasing all the elements, love, and hatred they had housed for so long. All the years wasted on guarding their gifts now laid in pieces in front of them.

"Why?!" Anastasia cried. She fell to the ground, knees sinking slowly as she collapsed.

Dagne didn't flinch. Merely a wicked smile tugged on her tinted lips and she watched with satisfaction at their priceless, defeated looks. Without their marbles, they were nothing.

The three older sisters looked, wide-eyed, at their youngest sister, who only said three words: "Death made me."