The first snow of the season blanketed the bustling streets, turning the muddy roads into a treacherous mess. A frail little girl, wrapped in tattered rags, weaved through the crowd, her hazel eyes darting from face to face, searching. The cold bit at her exposed skin, but she ignored it. Hunger clawed at her stomach, demanding she act.
Then she saw it—a bread stall, unattended for just a second.
Her heart pounded. Now.
With practiced steps, she slipped forward, her bruised hands snatching two pieces of bread before vanishing into the moving sea of people. She ran, feet skidding on the icy ground, her pulse roaring in her ears.
But luck had never been kind to her.
"Thief!"
The shop owner had seen her. A man—likely his attendant—was already charging after her.
Seraphina didn't hesitate. She shoved one piece of bread beneath her ragged clothes and clutched the other tightly as she darted into a narrow alleyway. If she could just --
A rough hand grabbed her wrist.
The stolen bread slipped from her grasp, hitting the cold ground.
"Filthy little thief!" the man spat, yanking her backward. Then—pain. A sharp, brutal kick to her ribs sent her curling in on herself.
Seraphina bit down on her lip, refusing to make a sound. Don't cry. Don't show weakness.
Another kick. Then another.
She pressed her arms against her chest, protecting the small, fragile parts of herself as best as she could.
"You better not steal again, or next time, you won't be walking away," the attendant snarled before spitting on the ground and walking off. The street remained indifferent to the sight of a little girl crumpled on the frozen pavement.
Her body screamed in pain. She tried to move, but dizziness crashed over her like a wave, and her vision blurred. Her head hit the stone ground with a sickening thud.
Then, everything went dark.
A dull, throbbing pain pounded in her skull.
Seraphina groaned, fingers twitching against the cold ground.
Where... am I?
Her eyes fluttered open, but something felt wrong—as if her mind had been cracked open, leaking unfamiliar thoughts into her reality.
A rush of memories slammed into her, too fast, too strange.
This wasn't right.
Her breath hitched as she sat up too quickly, making her vision spin. Her hands—too small. Her body—too weak.
Her heart pounded in her chest.
I was sleeping... wasn't I? In my bed... in my home...
No.
A flash of a starving boy. Red eyes, soft cries. Ralph.
Her pulse spiked. Ralph is waiting for me.
Ignoring the sharp pain in her ribs, Seraphina forced herself onto her feet. Think later. Move now.
The slums were as she remembered—barely standing homes, damp air thick with decay. She rushed past the familiar broken fences and into a tiny, nearly-collapsed hut.
The moment she stepped inside, a small figure crashed into her waist.
"Sister!"
Seraphina barely had time to react before two trembling arms wrapped around her. She stiffened, then slowly looked down.
Red eyes, black hair. His tiny frame shook, his warmth pressing against her frozen body.
"Ralph," she breathed, her chest tightening as she hugged the little boy close.
He was real. He was real.
For a moment, the aching in her ribs, the burning in her head, the confusion in her mind—all of it faded.
She swallowed hard and forced a smile. "I brought you some bread." She lifted her shirt, revealing the second stolen loaf—slightly crushed but still warm.
But Ralph didn't reach for it. Instead, his tear-filled eyes locked onto her face, and his lower lip trembled.
"Ralph is not hungry!" he hiccupped, shaking his head furiously.
Seraphina frowned. "Why? Weren't you hungry, Rally?"
The moment she touched his cheek, he broke down completely.
"S-sister… g-got h-hurt…!" he sobbed, pointing at her forehead. His tiny fingers trembled as he reached up, touching the swollen wound.
Seraphina blinked, confused, before raising her own hand to her temple.
Sticky warmth. A slow trickle of something thick.
She pulled her hand back. Blood.
Ralph's eyes widened at the sight, and a shudder wracked his small frame. His breath came in sharp, ragged gasps, his tiny fists clenching as if trying to hold himself together.
Then he threw himself into her arms, wailing.
"D-Don't die!"
Seraphina's breath caught. She hadn't realized just how terrified he was.
What do I do? How should I make this better?
Before she could say anything, the sound of running footsteps made her snap her head toward the door.
A loud thud shook the fragile hut.
The door swung open violently, slamming against the wall.
"Seraphina!"
A sharp, cold voice rang through the room.
She barely had time to react before a silver-haired boy stormed inside.
His piercing blue eyes locked onto her blood-streaked face. His breath hitched—just for a second—before his entire expression hardened into something far colder
He moved fast—too fast. One moment, he was at the door. The next, he was right in front of her. His fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. His chest rose and fell sharply as if barely keeping himself together.
"How many times," he bit out, voice trembling with fury, "have I told you not to steal!?"
The words crashed into her like a wave, making her stomach twist.
Ralph immediately fell silent.
Seraphina, still holding onto her little brother, shrank back slightly under the weight of Lucian's rage.
She had no excuse. She knew she had done something dangerous, reckless.
And yet—
She opened her mouth. "Lucian, I—"