While lost in my painting, Grandmother suddenly entered the room, flanked by my two sisters. Her cutting words yanked me away from the canvas, leaving me stunned and shaking where I sat.
"Oh, child, what are you doing?" She asked, walking toward me.
My gaze shot up to meet her icy glare. Those brown orbs narrowed, wrinkled her nose, and curled her upper lip upon spotting what I was drawing.
But… It's late! They never come this late!
I could only tremble, feeling myself run cold, when I noticed a sister holding shackles. Baffled, I could only watch, unable to derive why they were there. None of my actions warranted their presence.
Struggling to hide my bracelet under my pajamas, I shifted my orbs away momentarily, only to be met by a sister grabbing my hands. Her fridged hands made me quiver even more than I already was.
She yanked me from my seat before binding my wrists using the cuffs she had. The cold silver metal left me unsure of what they planned to do to me. She didn't notice the bracelet that slid into the binds by a stroke of luck, hiding it from sight.
Unable to form coherent thoughts, I sought guidance on why they were there.
"Oh, dear child, don't look so afraid. Do you think we didn't know what you were doing?" Grandmother's orbs landed on the painting, picking it up into her hands.
"None of this was because of your doing. We allowed you out, but it's time for you to lose all hope once again. The ritual we've been preparing for will pass in a day from now." She informed, leaving the same as when she started.
I put up a brave front despite shaking where I stood to hold myself together. The silver wolf couldn't discover my circumstances; he had to remain ignorant of my peril. Her words resonated within me, though.
Tomorrow?! It's Fenris's birthday tomorrow! What?!
It would only be a matter of time until everything was revealed. This woman was determined to destroy me from within.
"Why so quiet, child?" she scowled at the canvas in her hands.
I tried to speak, but nothing came out. Every part of my being was shaking, and I couldn't stop. Her lips curled upward, tearing the painting before my eyes and throwing it in the garbage beside us. Tears stung my orbs, wanting to stain my cheeks with their streaks.
However, I knew if I broke, then it meant she won.
"You've been mingling with the enemy. With Amir's cursed child, no less. Did you know he's said to bring prosperity and peace to the Lycans? What a disgrace." Her words weigh heavily in my heart.
Even though I tried to deny her any reaction from me, my chest felt like a hole was opening up within it. Yet, if I reflected on anything, it would infuriate her further. Nonetheless, it took time before she shoved me off the cliff I was standing by.
How much can I hold? No, I have to! I can't break!
A sense of dread filled my being, knowing if Fenris was Amir's child, then I signed his death sentence. He was the leader of Cerberus and one who commanded the raid on our manor. I knew from the point the older Lycan screamed at us, but I didn't want to let go of my light.
No, I forced myself to believe he was the child of a brother or cousin of the Silver Fang clan.
"I-I didn't know," my voice shivered, incapable of hiding what I felt.
This was the first time I had something to lose. Someone I had to protect at all costs, even if it meant I'd lose parts of myself. My answer triggered her to grab my hair, yanking me up and slamming me against the wall.
"Don't play dumb, child! I taught you better than this! Silver hair is a trait only found in Amir's line of wolves! So, if anything, you should've known he was part of the family!" Grandmother snarled, rubbing my face onto the barrier she had tacked me against.
There was a part of her that was right and a part that was wrong simultaneously. Although not all silver wolves belonged to the Silver Fang line, they all shared his blood. Her hatred blinded her from understanding that not all silver wolves were the same.
"I taught you not to get friendly with them! Don't you understand they took your mother? My love!" She screamed, letting go of my hair before she made another attempt to fix her crumbled dress.
In spite, I didn't want Fenris's name in her mouth; I was powerless. My heart raced with thoughts of how to stop this, flinching when she raised her hand again.
"Grandmother, please! I'm sorry! I didn't know!" I begged in one last-ditch effort to reach her heart.
She smacked me in the face upon hearing what I called her, slicing my lip upon contact with the blow. The blow sent me tumbling onto the wooden floor along with waves of misery. My thoughts could barely collect together when the iron taste filled my senses.
"Don't fucking call me that! You cursed, child! It was your fault they took my daughter from me! If you weren't alive, she would be!" She sneered, stomping on the floor.
"Yes... S-Stella." I struggled to voice, feeling blood fall into my hand from it splattering onto the wooden floor.
It hurts.
"It doesn't matter anymore. Now it's my turn to take everything from you. You'll give your life to open the gate for us!" Stella announced, leaving me unable to follow.
The gate? You can't mean…
If that was her intended goal, she was crazier than my mother had ever been. Only one witch in history attempted to open the gates to the nether realm.
Lilith, the malicious witch who wished to destroy the world.
The coven had forced me to read and memorize her history, making me wonder why my mother named me after her. Her answer was simple, saying I could bring glory to the name.
A silly thing…
I knew what they were trying to achieve, thanks to all my academic sessions. My thoughts were filled with thoughts of trying to find a way to protect my radiant source of joy.
I won't let anyone harm my light!
If the gate, also known as the netherworld, were successfully opened, witches would finally have the upper hand against other races. Or at least that was what they thought would happen. However, the other infamous witch my mother named me after failed in her attempt.
Thanks to her endeavor, though, the Cerberus order formed. Sadly, I didn't share my grandmother's goal, even though this world wasn't for me. Even if I didn't want to experience it, it didn't mean others shouldn't have.
Above all, I didn't want my light's radiance diminished. Even if I wasn't in his life, my desire was for him to live it fully. If I could watch him from a distance, that would suffice just fine.
My sole wish is that.
"It'll be fun to watch you be the cause that ends that cursed Lycan, child. What's his name? Ah yes, Fenris." She smirked, gazing at me full of malice.
When his name left Stella's lips, I lost it for the first time.
"No! Don't touch him!" I screeched from the floor, shooting a glare at her.
A sly smile rose on her lips before kicking me in my abdomen with such force that it knocked the air out of me. Gasping for air, I tried to crawl away, only for her to yank me back by my hair. Pushing my face against the cold wooden floor, ensuring my uneven orbs were on her.
"Oh, child, I won't be the one touching him. He and many more will end soon, all because of you. Most likely, there'll be a clean start to the world. After all, this world isn't worth living if she isn't in it." She snickered, letting go of my hair before fixing hers that got undone.
I coughed, unable to form words or coherent thoughts.
"Yes… When it resets, we witchcraft users will be at the top again!" She declared, fixating her dead gaze on me again.
Trying desperately to get air into my lungs, I never could find enough, unable to crawl away towards the opening on the wall. My tiny body couldn't handle the brutal beating that came after she finished enlightening me.
The following day, my eyes fluttered open, leaving me to find my body aching in ways it never had before. No longer was I in the little room I had come to know. All that surrounded me was the manor's stone basement, where I found myself naked and bound on the floor.
The only thing lighting was a small rustic torch hanging by a wooden pole near me; its flame was brighter than my desire to continue. It was a struggle to move or even breathe. Living had become more than a daily chore, and I was slowly losing my grip on it.