The fight had spiraled far beyond their power to control. This chaos was never planned; it was never meant to unfold like this. They were supposed to remain hidden, shadows among shadows.
In that single, devastating moment, centuries of concealment had been undone. The protective wards that had shielded their community from detection crumbled, sending ripples across the supernatural realm that screamed their location to every enemy they had spent lifetimes evading.
The Council had been tracking them for years, long before Aria even discovered she was carrying new life within her. Their hunters moved like predators in the night, following whispers and rumors, pursuing the faintest traces of their bloodline across continents and decades. Caelan and Aria had existed in perpetual terror since birth, the last remnants of their dying race, bearing the weight of an entire civilization's survival on their shoulders.
For centuries, they had lived in the shadows of the human world, finding sanctuary among those they once considered beneath them. It was a bitter irony that salvation had come from such an unexpected source. The mundane humans, though assumed to be the weakest of all creatures, had ironically provided the safest haven. Their very ordinariness became a shield; other supernatural beings dismissed humans as insignificant, beneath notice, allowing Aria's people to blend seamlessly into their unremarkable world.
They had found peace in this overlooked existence, building lives of quiet desperation among coffee shops and suburban streets, hiding their true nature behind mundane jobs and ordinary conversations. For generations, they had perfected the art of invisibility until betrayal shattered everything. Someone from within their own ranks had sold them out, revealing their location to the Council for promises of mercy that would never come. Now they were being slaughtered without mercy, their trust repaid with blood.
The Council had finally found them. A battalion of acolytes stormed their hidden sanctuary, their silver weapons gleaming under the moonlight as they reduced centuries of careful construction to ash and ruin. This small world they had built, stone by stone, memory by memory, crumbled in a single night. The survivors of the great supernatural war, who had thought themselves safe at last, now made their final stand here.
Buildings that had housed families for generations burst into flames. Children's laughter, which had once echoed through their hidden streets, was replaced by screams of terror and the clash of steel against desperate magic.
Fate's cruelty knew no bounds. It was also the day Aria went into labor.
Hours earlier, as dawn painted the sky in deceptively peaceful colors, she had felt her water break, the familiar pain announcing her child's imminent arrival. The contractions had started gently, like waves lapping at a distant shore, giving no hint of the violence that would soon consume their world. She had been rushed to one of their makeshift infirmaries, a converted cellar that smelled of herbs and hope, screaming through contractions even as the massacre began outside.
The sounds of battle filtered through the walls: shouts of defiance, the crack of splintering wood, the wet sound of blades finding flesh. Caelan had torn himself from her side, his face a mask of anguish as he chose between protecting his wife and defending their people. "I'll be back," he had promised, pressing his lips to her forehead. "I swear I'll be back."
He had kept his word, but at a terrible cost. When he returned, life was bleeding from his body with each labored breath, his armor cracked and stained crimson. Three deep gashes ran across his chest, and his left arm hung useless at his side. Still, he crawled to her bedside, determination overriding pain as he gripped his wife's hand.
"The outer defenses have fallen," he gasped between her contractions. "But we're holding them at the main gate. You have time."
Aria writhed in agony, caught between the pain of birth and the terror of their situation. Then, piercing through the sounds of war and death, came a different cry, the wail of a newborn girl, born into chaos, her first breath drawn in a world already ending.
"Isn't she beautiful?" Aria whispered through her exhaustion, gazing at the tiny life in her arms. The baby was perfect, her eyes seemed to hold the wisdom of ages. For a moment, the violence outside seemed to fade, replaced by wonder at this miracle of new life.
"What should we name her?"
"Bellona," Caelan gasped, his voice barely audible as air struggled to fill his punctured lungs. The name of the war goddess seemed fitting for a child born in battle. Then his grip loosened, his eyes growing distant as he surrendered to the darkness.
Tears streamed down Aria's face, but through her grief, a different name formed on her lips. "Kira," she whispered to her daughter. She wanted an ordinary life for this child, a human life, free from the supernatural drama that had consumed their world. A life Aria herself had never known. The name was simple, unremarkable, perfect camouflage for what she hoped would be an unremarkable existence.
Two soldiers burst through the door, their faces streaked with soot and blood, urgency sharp in their voices. "My lady, we must leave now! The inner courtyard has been breached!"
But before they could escape, an acolyte's blade found one soldier's heart, piercing through the doorway like silver lightning. Aria clutched her baby closer as the remaining guardian grabbed her arm, pulling her through a hidden passage that led to the forest beyond.
They slipped past their enemies into the night, carrying nothing but the baby and their desperation. The forest welcomed them with shadows and silence, but offered no true safety. They wandered through dense woodland withouta destination, following deer paths and streams, until exhaustion forced them to seek shelter.
It was then they stumbled upon an isolated structure, a cathedral, ancient and forgotten, its Gothic spires reaching toward stars that offered no comfort. Moss covered its stones, and ivy crawled up its walls like green veins.
Here, Aria faced the most devastating choice of her life.
She knew the acolytes would catch them. Their supernatural senses would follow the trail of her blood, her scent, her magical signature. She knew her newborn daughter would die if they were captured together. With trembling hands, she placed Kira on the orphanage steps, her tears falling like rain on her daughter's face.
"Forgive me," she whispered, pressing a final kiss to the baby's forehead. "Live the life I never could. Be ordinary. Be safe. Be forgotten."
Then she disappeared into the shadows, leaving her heart behind on those cold steps, hoping that someone with a kind soul would find her daughter before the dawn brought new horrors.