Word count: 894
I was ten years old when the street became my home. The walls of the tall buildings, crumbling with time and indifference, were my companions. My name is Seraphine, and I have learned to survive in a world where the cold comes not only from the lack of shelter but also from the cruelty that lurks around every corner. The nights are the hardest. Often, I curl up in a dark corner, hugging my knees, trying to remember the warmth of a smile I never knew. My memories of childhood are distorted fragments, like reflections in a broken glass. The only constant is hunger and fear.
From a young age, I knew I was different. Sometimes, when the wind blew hard, I could hear whispers in the air. Murmurs of things I didn't understand. I often dreamed of bright lights and dancing shadows, but upon waking, the hard ground of the street reminded me of the harsh reality. I had no family, at least none that I could remember. People said my mother had been one of them, a mage who belonged to the pro-magic faction, and that my father had been a warrior from the pro-science faction, a genetically modified man. Those stories were just that: stories.
The children on the street are cruel, but I learned to defend myself. There is a girl, Olivia, who mocks me because I never have shoes. Her laughter is like daggers piercing my heart. But I have learned to ignore them, to hold my head high. Life has not given me the option to be weak. However, my spirit feels like a drum slowly fading. Sometimes, I wonder if my mother was like me, if she also struggled to survive in this chaotic world, torn between two factions that hate each other with passion.
The pro-magic faction is a group of people who believe in the power of the esoteric, in rituals and lineages that pass down special abilities. I have seen the mages in action, cloaked in vibrant colors, casting spells in the dark nights. People speak of them with reverence and fear. But I am not part of their world. I have no lineage that grants me access to those abilities. I cannot summon fire or make the earth tremble. I am just an orphaned girl in a world that doesn't stop to look at me.
On the other hand, there are those from the pro-science faction, warriors who have been modified to be stronger, faster. Their bodies are clad in metal, with implants that give them an edge over any human. I have been told that some of them carry in their DNA the essence of a dragon. My father, the one I never knew, was one of them. Sometimes, when I look at the sky, I wonder if any part of his strength resides in me, even though I lack the powers of magic.
On the street, rumors fly as fast as shadows. There is a war between the factions, a struggle that seems endless. Every day, I hear echoes of distant battles, cries of pain that send shivers down my spine. I don't understand much about what is happening, but I know I have to be careful. The streets are dangerous, and the war has brought with it an air of desperation. Many have disappeared, swallowed by the madness unleashed by the fight between the pro-magic and pro-science factions.
One afternoon, while scavenging for scraps of food in an abandoned market, I saw a group of pro-science warriors. Their faces were unyielding, their bodies shining with the sunlight filtering through the gray clouds. I watched from a distance, hoping they wouldn't notice me. I knew I had to stay away from them, but curiosity pushed me forward. They were like monsters from a horror story, and I was just a hungry girl.
In the midst of them, one man stood out. His presence was imposing, like a dragon among humans seeking refuge. He wore armor that reflected the sun's rays and had a pair of eyes that seemed to pierce to the depths of my soul. I felt a shiver run through me. Could it be? No, it couldn't be. Those kinds of thoughts were dangerous. I was just an orphan, without lineage, without power. But deep inside, a spark of hope ignited within me. What if I ever discovered who I really was?
In that moment, a heart-wrenching scream broke the calm. A figure appeared among the warriors. It was a woman, her dark hair waving in the wind, her eyes shining with a power I couldn't comprehend. She was a mage. The pro-magic faction had arrived. I watched, frozen, as she faced the warriors, casting a spell that illuminated the afternoon. Shadows danced around her, and her voice resonated like an echo through the streets.
In my heart, adrenaline surged. That was the life I longed for, a life filled with power and magic, with struggle and freedom. But in reality, I was still just an orphaned girl on the street, caught between two worlds I could never fully understand. The roar of battle echoed in the distance, and I knew that my life, like those around me, would change forever. The war was close, and I, as always, was in the wrong place at the wrong time.