Once, there was a boy and a girl.

A pair of fragile hands, too small to hold the weight of the world, yet stubborn enough to try. Because who was there to stop them?

Luca was an orphan of circumstance, raised in shadows too cruel for a child to understand, too cruel for a child to be placed in.

 And Mira? 

Well, Mira was the daughter of a name soaked in blood, a princess of an empire built upon quiet threats and whispered warnings.

 They were just children, though. Their souls reached for warmth in a world that promised them none.

Cruel as it is, the world took back what was never theirs to keep.

Mira's mother paled at the sight of a locket, the blood draining from her face as if she had seen a ghost. To Mira, it was a gift from Luca. To her mother, it was stolen sixteen years ago. A secret buried in the past. She did not tell Mira the truth that day but packed their bags in the dead of night and fled before the wolves could sniff them out.

But the past does not stay buried. 

As Elvis Presley once said, "The truth is like the sun, you can shut it for some time but it ain't going away."

Mira learns the truth about Luca's family. 

The family that raised him? Wasn't his.

The disturbing part was that their lives were entangled long before fate had the chance to weave them back together.

And then came the night Mira's world burned.

Blood on her hands. Her mother's breath, ragged and fading, as she made Mira promise- don't let them take what's ours.

Vengeance was no longer just a prophecy; it was an inheritance, a duty, a noose around her throat that she learned to wear like a crown.

Somewhere, beyond time and memory, the boy with the locket grew into a man with a vendetta of his own.

Neither of them remembered.

But the past never forgets.

And it's coming for them both.