The burning scent of smoke clung to every corner of the ruined estate. Cracks webbed through the once-polished marble floors, splattered with streaks of blood and ash. Columns that had stood tall for centuries now lay in fractured heaps. The ornate stained-glass windows were shattered, letting moonlight pour through in jagged shapes. And amidst the crumbling destruction, a mother and her daughter ran.
The child clutched a bloodied blade in her trembling hands. Her heart pounded like a drumbeat inside her chest, loud enough to drown the chaos around her. Behind them, distant voices echoed through the smoke—guards, furious and searching
Seraphina didn't slow. Her long silver hair trailed behind her like a banner of war, swirling with each powerful step. The hem of her cloak was torn and smudged with soot, and her fingers sparked with residual magic. Her lips were tight, her eyes never still.
"Stay close," she whispered without looking back.
The girl nodded silently. Her eyes stung, not just from the smoke, but from everything. Her father's lifeless body. The cold silence of the room they'd left behind. The blood on her hands. The shrill cry of that woman when the blade pierced her.
She hadn't planned to move. Hadn't meant to survive. But when her mother screamed, something broke inside her—or maybe something finally woke up.
Seraphina stopped abruptly and pressed her back to the wall. The girl mimicked her, barely breathing. Voices ahead.
"Level three's been breached. I want them alive. The Queen gave orders."
Footsteps. Five? Six? Heavy boots.
Seraphina raised one hand. The air shimmered.
"Cover your ears, baby," she said softly.
The girl obeyed.
The floor shook.
There was a flash of blinding light and then a terrible noise—not just loud, but wrong. Like the world had been ripped sideways. The walls shuddered and dust rained from above. When it cleared, the corridor ahead was empty except for the smoking remnants of the guards.
She cast another wave of magic, pushing back a trio of guards who had turned the corner. Their snarls cut short as the spell struck, sending them crashing against the walls.
The child's small feet slipped on the blood-slick floor. She stumbled, then caught herself, never loosening her grip on the blade. Her gaze flicked to her mother, who was already moving again—silent, sharp, determined.
They turned down another corridor. This one had once been beautiful: tapestries hung from the ceiling, depicting the old days of their kingdom. Now they were torn and smoldering. One had caught fire, the embroidery melting in a haze of smoke.
Her mother raised a hand again, whispering an incantation. The flames parted for a moment, just long enough for them to rush through.
"Almost there," her mother muttered, more to herself than the child.
But the sound of pounding footsteps returned—this time from ahead. Another group of guards surged from the shadows, red-eyed and fast. Not human. Not entirely.
Her mother didn't hesitate. She pushed her daughter behind her and stepped forward. The magic around her ignited with intensity. Blue light burst from her palms, exploding in waves of kinetic force.
The impact sent several of the creatures flying, but more kept coming. One lunged.
Steel met fang. The mother ducked, twisted, and retaliated with a burst of energy that cracked the air like thunder.
The girl watched with wide, terrified eyes, her back pressed to the cold stone wall. She had seen her mother fight before—but never like this. There was fury in her movements now, sharpened by heartbreak.
One of the guards got too close.
This time, the girl didn't freeze. She lifted the blade. Her arms shook, but she swung it. Not gracefully. Not expertly. But enough.
Steel met flesh. The creature howled, stumbling back with a snarl.
"Good!" her mother shouted. "Keep moving! We don't have long."
They ran.
Around every corner was another obstacle: armed guards with glowing weapons, iron doors meant to trap even the strongest. Some fought with fury, others with fear. None stood a chance.
The child stayed silent. She followed, gripping the blade like a lifeline. It felt warm now, almost pulsing, like it recognized her touch. She didn't know why. Only that she couldn't let it go.
One guard lunged from behind a stack of crates. Seraphina's magic flared too late—he was too close.
The girl moved first.
The blade sliced low and fast, catching him by surprise. He fell, groaning, clutching his thigh. Seraphina spun, eyes wide.
The girl stood over the man, chest heaving.
"You said to stay close," she muttered.
For a split second, Seraphina looked like she might cry. But she didn't. She grabbed her daughter's hand and kept moving.
They reached the atrium. A tall glass dome stretched above them, fractured by previous blasts. Moonlight filtered in through the cracks. The main exit lay ahead—a towering steel gate, glowing with runes. Two elite guards stood between them and freedom.
"No more hiding," Seraphina said quietly.
She stepped forward, raising both hands. The runes sparked in warning, sensing her magic. The guards advanced, weapons drawn.
But Seraphina had had enough.
Power poured from her fingertips in a wave of blue fire. The guards were thrown back with screams. The gate cracked, runes flickering.
Still, it didn't open.
The girl stepped up beside her mother. The blade in her hand pulsed brighter.
"Let me try," she said.
Seraphina hesitated—then stepped back.
The girl reached out with the blade. As it neared the runes, they flared, not in resistance but recognition. A low hum rippled through the air.
She pressed the blade to the center of the gate.
A bright light exploded outward.
When it faded, the gate stood open.As they reached the grand exit doors, her heart lifted — only to shatter again at the sight before her.
Bodies.
Scattered across the open courtyard, their people lay broken and lifeless. Faces she recognized — guards, elders, allies. Their blood stained the marble steps and slicked the earth beneath, making it hard to look away. Her breath hitched.
Her mother pulled her back gently, turning her to face her. In her hand, she held a delicate necklace — silver, with a small glowing crystal at its center.
"Take this," her mother said, voice softer now, trembling but firm. "Follow the light. It will guide you where I cannot."
The girl stared up at her, eyes wide with confusion and dread. "What about you?"
A sad smile bloomed on her mother's lips. "I have to stay. They're coming. And they'll stop at nothing."
Already, the sounds of an approaching army echoed through the air — the heavy rhythm of boots, snarls, blades scraping from sheaths. They were close. Too close.
"No—" the girl shook her head. "You said we would leave together—"
"I know." Her mother cupped her cheek. "I'm so sorry."
Tears clung to her lashes, but her mother pressed the necklace into her palm and urged her back. "You have to go. Now."
The girl stumbled a few steps backward, unable to take her eyes off the woman who had been her entire world. But her mother turned to face the coming storm, her long silver hair lifting with the wind, and raised her hand — the first spark of her ethereal glow beginning to light the space around her like a beacon.
The girl hesitated for one last heartbeat.
Then she turned and ran — clutching the blade in one hand and the necklace in the other.
Behind her, the faint, glowing figure of her mother stood tall like a goddess carved from moonlight. That final image, fierce and radiant, burned into her memory — the last flicker of hope in a world already falling apart.