In 1937, Arabella Beatrice Cordelia Asquith married into the Volthström family. Her union was with Émeric Volthström, youngest brother of Baron Maurice of the French line of Volthstroms. The marriage contract included the standard dowry of property, bonds, and minor heirlooms, but buried among the annexed documents was a curious clause written in unusually vague but binding legal terms. The clause outlined an obligation for the Volthström line to “receive and raise” a future child, unnamed and unknown, at the discretion of the Asquiths, should the time ever come.

The clause was invoked eighty-three years later, after generations had passed and the marriage itself become another record in a long family line. But someone enforced the contract, delivering a newborn girl to the Volthström house in Paris on a gray January morning in 2023. The infant, swaddled and unnamed, arrived with only two things: a blank birth certificate awaiting the child’s name and a notarized letter referencing the original 1937 dowry clause.

Emmeline Volthström, the current lady of the house, was not consulted. The child was left in her care with no warning, accompanied only by her husband’s insistence that the family had no choice but to accept the girl. Timothée Volthström offered little in explanation beyond a quiet remark: “It is an old arrangement. We must honor it.”

Though raised in the Parisian Volthström household with warmth and dignity, Daphne holds no legal claim to the Volthström estate or property. The family charter, updated rigorously each generation, holds rigid definitions of inheritance through bloodline. As an adopted child, Daphne is not considered an heir, nor is she included in any known trusts or holdings.

This left her in a peculiar position: educated among the elite, trained in etiquette and diplomacy, fluent in multiple languages, but without dowry, inheritance, or much more than a lifestyle expense account. In their social circles, her future is a delicate matter of whispered speculation. It is understood, though rarely said aloud, that her best and perhaps only chance at securing her place in the world is through an appropriate marriage.

But things were off with Daphne, even as an infant. She exhibited unusual reactions to the world around her. Touch, temperature, and even minor injuries seemed to overwhelm her system. A scraped knee would induce tremors; a mild fever might render her bedridden. She was eventually diagnosed with hyperalgesia, a condition that causes extreme sensitivity to pain, though no treatment offered lasting relief.

More troubling, however, were the inexplicable episodes. Daphne would awaken in the night gripped by searing pain without cause. She might collapse during school hours, overcome by nausea or a burning sensation in her limbs. These episodes rarely coincided with any discernible illness or injury, leading physicians to dismiss them as psychosomatic or emotional in origin.

Privately, Daphne began to wonder if the pain she experienced was not always her own. She could sense the physical suffering of others in close proximity, often with disturbing clarity. A classmate’s toothache would become her migraine. A maid’s sprained wrist would cause her arm to throb. As she matured, she learned to mask these reactions, concealing her discomfort behind a quiet, impassive exterior. Unbeknownst to her or her adopted family, the explanation for her condition extended far beyond medical understanding.

Daphne was not born alone. She had a twin brother unknown to her and to those who raised her who had been used at the embryonic stage for a scientific initiative operating under the guise of fertility research. The embryos were subjected to a series of advanced and ethically dubious genetic modifications, but their fates diverged sharply by design.

Daphne’s twin was engineered to possess an extreme resistance to pain. His body was prepared for a lifetime of cybernetic experimentation, one that would require the suppression of physical sensation in order to endure invasive procedures and integration with technology. Daphne, by contrast, was altered to experience the opposite: heightened sensitivity to physical and emotional stimuli. She was intended to serve as a living case study in empathetic perception and sensory vulnerability.

What the scientists had not predicted and failed to understand was that Daphne’s soul carried a rare form of sentience, and one that bound her psychically to her twin. While he could not feel the pain inflicted upon him, Daphne could. Their connection, forged in the womb, remained intact after birth despite their separation. Over the years, she experienced phantom echoes of her brother’s suffering: flashes of pain with no clear source, moments of anguish that belonged to a life not her own.

This unexplained resonance became the undercurrent of her identity. Though she had never been told of her twin, Daphne came to believe that someone else was out there; someone who felt both familiar and impossibly distant. This conviction eventually became the quiet motive behind her pursuit of her biological origins. She was not seeking love or answers, but rather a missing part of herself that she could not name but had always known.

Daphne is paradoxical, though. Although her soul is finely attuned to the suffering of others, she presents herself as detached, logical, and emotionally reserved. Her demeanor is cool and proper, shaped by years of managing overwhelming sensation through intellectual control. She avoids physical contact whenever possible and prefers solitude to social gatherings.

Her academic interests lean toward the philosophical, neurological, and metaphysical. She is dedicated to her studies, particularly in fields that allow her to impose structure like ethics, linguistics, classical literature, and cognitive science. She is deeply rational, even when confronted with experiences that defy logic. Her emotional life is largely internal, fiercely guarded, and expressed only in moments of untold intimacy or extreme crisis.

Socially, Daphne is regarded as elegant but aloof. Suitors find her beauty and intellect captivating but are often discouraged by her lack of warmth. Rumors about her status within the Volthström family circulate in their social circles, casting her as either a tragic foundling or a clever interloper. Few know the truth, and fewer still would understand it if they did.

After years of suppression, her sense of being incomplete of carrying someone else’s pain has only intensified. What began as isolated episodes of phantom sensation has grown into something more persistent, intimate, and increasingly difficult to dismiss.

Though she has asked her adoptive father, Timothée Volthström, on multiple occasions about her origins, he has offered nothing of substance. With his characteristic restraint, he has explained that he is legally unable to speak on the matter, and that even if he were permitted, there is little he knows. The contract’s specifics are known only to those who drafted it, and they are long dead or long silent. Whatever sentiment Timothée might feel toward her, he has made it clear: this is not a past meant to be unearthed.

Emmeline, for her part, urges caution but lacks the conviction to truly stop her. She has always loved Daphne in her own quiet way, but she, too, is bound by the rules of the house. The Volthström legacy is heavy, ornate, and guarded. It was never designed to accommodate questions from outsiders, even those raised within its walls. 

Yet Daphne is no longer content to remain in the dark. It was her adopted brother that implied she look into the Volthströms’ archives. If the truth is in the past, the past is where she ought to go. 

Under the guise of continuing her academic studies in historical economics and dynastic legal structures, Daphne has begun traveling to various Volthström holdings across Europe. The family’s ancestral holdings in London, Frankfurt, Vienna and Rome, were each operated by distant relatives or historical stewards, but in the case of Vienna or Frankfurt, were outright dead ends. Ostensibly, she is researching transgenerational wealth preservation. In truth, she is quietly searching for records, correspondences, or overlooked mentions of the mysterious clause that sealed her place in the family.

In London, she visited the Volthström townhouse in Belgravia, where her cousins received her with mild politeness and cultivated disinterest. She is tolerated, even humored, but never taken seriously. Her questions about family records are redirected, her inquiries into past adoptions or wardships brushed aside with smiles and vague excuses. It was here, during a formal dinner, that something subtle occurred: something that would have passed unnoticed by anyone else.

Seated across from an elderly cousin, Aunt Honoria, a woman sharp of wit but dulled by dementia and age, Daphne felt a ripple beneath the surface of conversation. While reminiscing about traveling across the world prior to the turbulence of the 20s, Honoria made a comment about leaving treasure behind in New York, and though the words were quickly swallowed by laughter and dismissed as senile rambling, Daphne felt a sharp, almost electric echo in her chest, like a wire pulled taut. She felt the pain of regret as her own. 

When the conversation moved on, Daphne remained frozen, not by the words themselves, but by the emotional disruption beneath them. Her empathic sense registered a wave of shame, followed by something tightly sealed: a fear of being overheard. It was not Honoria who reacted this way, but it was her cousin Tobias seated nearby, who stiffened imperceptibly when the phrase was uttered. 

Daphne made a fateful leap in logic: a Volthström child was given away. It must have been her. She cannot imagine any other explanation.

Daphne arrived in New York City in mid December of 2046. Her inquiries were discreet. She consulted archival registries, leveraged minor connections in academic and preservation circles, and spent long hours in digital municipal databases. Eventually, in the maze of public property records and tax transfers, she found cousin Tobias’ name.

The listing showed that Tobias once owned a pied-à-terre in the East Village, that he suddenly sold for a reported $17.5 million in 2021 without a known reason. There were no inheritance records, no death certificates, and no linked familial claims. To the casual observer, it was an ordinary transaction. To Daphne, it was a rupture. With the winter sun low and pale over Manhattan, she went to see the building for herself.

The building stood three stories tall, framed in faded red brick and cast-iron columns. The original façade remained intact, but the interior had changed. Through tall, street-level windows, she could see that the space had been converted into an art studio: an open-concept loft with high ceilings, abstract light fixtures, and paint-splattered concrete floors.

Inside, she glimpsed the glow of hanging lights and canvases arranged in haphazard clusters. Music filtered faintly through the glass, but there were clues that a celebration was being prepared. 

It was December 29th, and her presence was expected in Paris for New Year’s Eve, where the family was hosting their annual black-tie gathering. Her seat had already been assigned, her dress couriered from the Rue Saint-Honoré. She was already cutting her return close, but something was pulling her inside. A window placard indicated that a New Year’s Eve celebration was also to take place at the studio, and she couldn’t resist the temptation to explore its interior. 

Two nights later, she defied her mother’s insistence on her presence in Paris, and arrived at an entirely different sort of party. 

The Wheel of Time

1st Age – Daphne Du Cadeau de Volthström

2nd Age – Odette Dravahl

3rd Age – Raqual Vasudevna, Aes Sedai of the White Ajah

4th Age – The Snow Queen

5th Age – Yuki-onna