"Vera, never forget what I told you. You must live. You are not alone. I will never leave your side. But tonight, you must run. You must hide. Don’t let them find you. Never let them take you. Do not listen to their words—heed only your heart and follow its voice. Your mother and father will always love you. So run, my darling… and don’t look back."

The screams downstairs had grown louder.

They were here.

I clung to my mother’s robe, my small hands shaking violently, but she didn’t falter. She knelt, brushing her fingers against my cheek, her warmth trying to soothe the terror burning inside me.

And then—she smiled.

It was a beautiful, unwavering smile.

And I hated it.

"Mother, come with me." My voice was nothing more than a broken whisper.

She tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead.

“No.” Her voice was gentle, but final. “A mother has made her choice. But you, Vera… you must choose for yourself. Do not be afraid. Do not show weakness. Be strong.”

The door downstairs crashed open.

Footsteps followed. Heavy, merciless, like death itself.

"Go."

I shook my head violently. No. No, no, no.

"GO!"

She shoved me toward the window, fingers trembling as she unlatched it.

Cold air bit at my skin.

Tears burned down my face, but my mother’s hands did not hesitate. She lifted me, pushed me outside onto the sunshade, and slammed the window shut.

I was locked out in the night—trapped between the bitter wind and the horror unfolding before me.

And then—

The door burst open.

Soldiers flooded the room, their boots slamming against the wooden floor.

And behind them…

A man stepped forward, his blood-red eyes glowing in the dim light.

Logan Leighann.

My uncle.

The monster who had taken everything from me.

I bit my hand, forcing myself not to scream.

"Raya," Logan drawled, his voice thick with amusement. "How fortunate that we finally meet again."

My mother did not flinch. She straightened, chin lifted, eyes filled with defiance instead of fear.

"A shame," she said, tilting her head. "I would have preferred you dead."

His smile vanished.

CRACK.

His fist slammed into her face.

My mother stumbled, blood spilling from her lips, but she did not fall.

Logan grabbed her by the hair, yanking her close. "Where is the boy? Your bastard? The demon you have birth to?" he hissed. "Where did you hide him?"

She laughed. Louder. Mocking. Not the laugh of a frightened woman. But the laugh of someone who refused to break.

"My son?" she scoffed, wiping the blood from her lips. "How fascinating… I had no idea a woman could bear a child without a man." Her voice sharpened, mocking. "Logan, you speak as if he’s not your own nephew. You call him a demon, but aren’t you the real the one here? Murdering your own brother."

I felt the air shift.

A predator about to strike.

Then—he did.

His fist collided with her stomach, sending her crashing to the floor.

I gasped silently, pressing my hands over my mouth, body trembling violently.

“Hold her down,” Logan ordered. Sighing like a beast.

Two soldiers grabbed my mother’s arms. She thrashed, kicked, but they were too strong.

And then—I saw it.

Logan knelt before her, his hands moving to his belt. He ripped off my mother's dress, I saw him do it. Violating her. I can't watch it. They laughed.

"Father?" My vision blurred. My stomach twisted. Something is going to come out of my mouth..

No.

Not this.

Please.

"You will beg, Raya," Logan murmured, his hand gripping her chin, forcing her to look at him. "And when you do… I will make it slow."

My mother said nothing. She didn't cry. She only spat in his face.

The world erupted in fire. 

Logan’s rage exploded, he stood up, his boot slamming into her ribs, again and again, until the floorboards were slick with red.

And then—

A dagger flashed in his hand. As if, vengeance and anger has possessed him, he drove it into her stomach.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Four… five… six…

I lost count.

Her body convulsed, blood pouring from her wounds. Her fingers twitched, reaching… for something.

For me. She knew, I was watching.

And I was paralyzed.

"FIND THE BOY AND KILL HIM!" Logan’s voice, scream, shattered the air.

The guards scattered.

I had to move.

I had to run.

I jumped from the sunshade, hitting the ground hard, knees scraping against stone. I barely felt the pain.

I just ran.

Branches slashed my skin as I stumbled into the darkness, my own breath deafening in my ears.

But the sound wouldn’t leave my head.

The wet sound of a blade piercing flesh.

The ragged breaths of a dying woman.

The sick laughter of a monster.

"THERE! I FOUND THE BOY!"

Panic flooded my veins.

I sprinted faster, but I was only seven. How far could a child run?

A soldier caught me.

I was slammed into the mud, the impact forcing the air from my lungs.

A boot crushed my ribs.

I choked, gasping like a fish out of water.

A shadow loomed over me. Cold steel glinted in the moonlight.

The sword swung.

PAIN.

Agony erupted across my back, hot and sharp like fire. My scream ripped through the night.

"Aaarrrghhh—!"

I was dying.

I was being cut open. Bloody, bathed in my own Blood. Pain.

This was the end. I thought.

But then—

Light.

A golden light burst before my eyes.

Warmth—gentle, motherly, wrapping around me like an embrace.

The soldier vanished into the glow, his presence erased.

I could not think.

I could not move.

My body had turned to light.

I fled.