The night air was thick with the scent of blood.
Under the pale glow of a broken moon, a girl sat still—far too still for a child of ten. Her knees were pulled to her chest, her arms wrapped tightly around them as if she could shrink into herself and disappear. Her delicate hands trembled, and her wide eyes were glazed with grief, locked on the lifeless body sprawled beside her.
Her father.
He lay cold and still, his once-proud chest now soaked in red, his blade fallen from his hand and glinting dully beside him. The rooftop around them was littered with corpses—some enemies, some allies. None alive. Only her.
And her sobs.
They were silent now, choked by the rawness in her throat, but her tears kept falling, slipping down her cheeks and soaking the torn fabric of her dress. The wind whispered through the darkness, stirring the hem of her clothes, almost as if the night itself was mourning with her.
Then came the footsteps.
Slow. Unhurried. Each one striking against the rooftop tiles like the countdown of a clock.
The girl didn't lift her head. She didn't have the strength. What was the point? Her world was already gone.
A shadow stopped in front of her.
"You look just like her," came a voice—soft, feminine, and laced with venom. "Same eyes. Same foolish heart."
The girl blinked, finally lifting her head.
A tall woman stood above her, clad in black and silver, her long hair cascading down like a curtain of night. Her eyes shimmered unnaturally—inhuman, cold. In her hand, she held a slender, blood-stained sword.
"You should have died with him," the woman whispered, raising the blade.
The girl stared blankly at the tip of the sword. No scream. No flinch. She didn't move. What was the point of running? Of surviving?
She had no one left.
Except—
A blast of white light shot between them, throwing the woman back just before the sword could touch her skin.
"GET AWAY FROM HER!"
The girl gasped. Her head snapped toward the voice.
Her mother.
She stood at the edge of the rooftop, her figure radiant against the dark sky. Hair wild, eyes burning, her body marked with cuts and burns, but her presence was undeniable—terrifying and beautiful all at once. Magic surged from her like a storm barely contained.
"You came…" the girl whispered.
The woman in black snarled, pushing herself off the ground, her mouth curling into a bitter smile. "Still playing the hero, Seraphina? Haven't you learned anything?"
Her mother stepped in front of her protectively. "You will not touch my daughter."
The woman's laugh echoed in the night. "Don't act so noble now. You never should have betrayed me."
Her mother's eyes narrowed. "I did what was right."
"You chose this when you tried to ruin everything we built."
"I could never support something that was built on lies and exploitation."
"Give me a break with the righteous speech. You're as self-righteous as ever. You ruined everything we could've been. But I guess happy endings aren't for everyone. Especially not for an attention hogging person like you."
"What do you mean?"
"You were always better at everything. And I was always compared to you. I'm done been second best to you. It's about time I claim my place. And since you're trying to take me down, I might as well beat you to it."
"I'm not trying to take you down. This is just not right."
"I'm glad he told me to wipe out your tiny empire. I can now strip you off everything. And I mean everything."
Seraphina's eyes widened as she saw what she meant.
"No! You can't! She's just a child!"
"You choose this perfect family of yours over me. Over us." The woman's voice cracked with something sharp—hate, or maybe sorrow twisted beyond recognition. "And now look at you. Look at what it cost you. Your husband's dead. Your people are gone. Your precious empire, reduced to ash."
The girl clung to her mother's cloak, trembling as the two women circled each other.
"You've lost, Seraphina. Let go. Hand the girl over. End this pathetic farce."
But Seraphina didn't move. "You'll have to go through me."
"Gladly."
They clashed.
Steel met magic, the rooftop shaking beneath their feet. Sparks flew, wind howled, and for a moment, the night was filled with nothing but fury. The girl could only watch as her mother fought with desperate, blinding strength. But she was weakening. Her steps faltered. Her spells grew slower. The enemy was stronger.
Stronger… but distracted.
The girl's gaze fell to her father's blade. It still lay beside him, its edge glinting in the dim light.
She crawled toward it, her small fingers brushing its hilt.
It was heavy. Far too heavy for someone like her. But it was his.
And maybe… just maybe…
Her mother stumbled, and the dark woman raised her sword for the final strike.
"No!" the girl cried.
She surged forward.
With both hands, she lifted the blade—and drove it into the woman's side.
A sharp cry tore from the villain's lips as the steel hit a spot that mattered—a weakness hidden beneath her armor. She fell back, staggered, momentarily stunned.
Selene didn't hesitate. She grabbed her daughter and pulled her close.
"Run," she whispered, and together they fled into the night.
Behind them, the woman fell to one knee, her hand pressed against the wound, her face twisted with rage and disbelief. The girl turned once to look back—not at the woman, but at the rooftop where her father still lay.
She didn't cry this time.
She tightened her grip on the blood-stained blade.
She would remember.