3 - Ashes

  I woke up again to the sound of loud crying — the cry of a child. My ears were still half-clogged, but even so, I heard the sob gradually fade until it ceased. This time, I felt I could move my body, which brought some relief, though my control still seemed diminished. I sighed quickly, aware of my situation. Strangely, I was someone else... again.

  A soft static filled the air as I was cradled by something rough — perhaps a worn-out fabric.

  Still, that touch easily calmed my mind and body.

  I opened my eyes cautiously, and when I did, I met those ember-red eyes I knew so well. But the face... the face was exhausted, wounded, aged by pain. It no longer looked like the one I had seen before. They seemed like two completely different people.

  Tears silently streamed from her eyes as Laine held me tightly against her chest.

  — Sorry for bringing you into this world. I want to free you from this suffering... but I can't. I can't kill you, my baby... I'm sorry... I'm so sorry.

  She kept repeating her apologies more and more openly, until her voice gave out. The once-beautiful lips that used to show a dazzling smile were now dry and cracked. Pale, nearly colorless — like the rest of her.

  Her strength abandoned her so quickly that she couldn't resist. She leaned back against the cell wall and fell asleep, overcome by exhaustion.

  Around us, only the darkness of a stone cubicle. So small there wasn’t even room for a bed. But what scared me most was when I looked at the floor: a trail of fresh blood sliced through the silence, dripping.

  Terror struck me like a cold blade. Another baby’s cry echoed, weak, muffled.

  I was gently rocked.

  It was obvious.

  There was no denying it anymore: I was that baby.

  The baby who is about to lose his mother.

  I stayed silent.

  I knew Laine wasn't well.

  But I also knew I couldn’t do anything.

  The pool of blood around us grew slowly, like a whispered warning that something terrible was about to happen.

  Sadness tightened in my tiny chest, because even someone like me knew — if things kept going like this, she wouldn’t survive.

  Death was inevitable.

  I tried to cry, hoping for something or someone.

  A miracle, please!

  A faint, desperate sound escaped my throat.

  But it was too late.

  There was no one left to hear me.

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  Laine’s body was motionless, cooling.

  Even so, her arms still held me, refusing to let go. As if even in death, her body still wanted to protect me.

  And so, once again, I was alone. That night passed so cold. A few hours went by, my body couldn’t take it anymore, and I fell asleep.

  A tray crashed to the stone floor — that loud noise woke me.

  A scream cut through the air, and footsteps quickened. Several people rushed in together to examine the corpse. I was snatched from her arms in a hurry — even from afar, I could hear their pounding hearts, their despair so palpable it seemed to ooze from them as they tried everything. But Laine had been gone for a long time.

  The sharp sound of firm steps echoed differently from the others, and the medics instantly fell silent. Desperate as they were, they knew it was hopeless. You could smell their fear in the air.

  It became thick, suffocating.

  I recognized that sound approaching.

  Just the memory of him made me wish to die again, just to avoid facing that being once more.

  As the sun rose, golden light poured through the corridor windows, reaching the man’s hair. It shone unnaturally, almost like metal — not human in the slightest. His face, carved in frozen seriousness, bore no trace of compassion or humanity.

  He slowly drew from a cigarette, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke before stepping forward.

  Without warning, he pressed the lit cigarette to the skin of the first medic at the door.

  The smell of burning flesh spread through the air, followed by a muffled groan from someone who didn’t even dare scream.

  — How did you not hear? — he said, voice sharp as a blade. — Incompetents... you can’t even hear a baby crying.

  He stepped forward, staring at the corpse for long seconds.

  — How didn’t you save her?

  He knelt slowly in the blood, unfazed by the filth. It was the first time I sensed anything close to a human emotion from him. At first, I thought it came from the medics, but no — it was just him. Raw and intense like an open scar, so overpowering that it made others' emotions seem to vanish.

  Then, with a sudden movement, he hugged the body — so tightly his fingers dug into the cold flesh, nearly tearing it apart with his strength. The last drops of blood slid through his fingers.

  He squeezed his eyes shut and, in a whisper filled with rage and grief, murmured:

  — Leaving me again, little sister?

  Long, silent minutes passed with him clinging to the corpse. Without hesitation, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to the cold, rigid ones. The gesture was so disturbing, so grotesque, I felt my stomach churn — I had to close my eyes, I wanted to wash them with acid.

  Definitely, he is not human. He doesn’t act like one, doesn’t feel like one... I feel so disgusted.

  The air around began to vibrate strangely, as if an invisible presence lingered. Curiosity made me want to open my eyes just in time to see—

  A red glow passed before them, moving like dust blown by the wind. Each particle pulsed, alive, as if it were its own being. All of them danced toward the lifeless body, radiating from it as if being summoned.

  The heat rose, tension hung like an invisible veil.

  Then, without warning, the body began to dissolve — not with rot, but into sparkling dust, red like embers, joining the rest as if they were one.

  Particle by particle, she vanished before everyone, leaving not even a shadow behind.

  The medics, stunned, barely dared breathe. Yet even in the face of such a mystical spectacle, none of them dared speak a word.

  — I knew they would come. The halls of our ancestors took you like the rest of us — truly the witch you always were.

  He stood slowly, and even the blood on his knees seemed to evaporate, as if it had never been there.

  His steps were firm, resolute, as he approached the medic holding me. Without a word, he took me from his arms.

  — Scarlet eyes like hers... and my golden hair. A perfect heir. But why don’t you cry? Do you even understand what just happened?

  I felt sick hearing that, truly wanted to vomit, but there was nothing in my stomach. Then, with a dry gesture, he slapped my rear.

  A spasmodic, involuntary wail burst from me — a primal, desperate sound I couldn’t stop. He let out a low chuckle, almost animalistic, full of pride and something darker, as if hearing a long-awaited melody.

  — Erase the records of what happened here... Turn this day into a festival. Tell my kingdom that my heir has been born — he ordered, his voice sharp as a blade.

  With a firm and confident step, he walked away carrying me in his arms, as if nothing had happened.

  Behind us, the silence was broken by gunshots.

  There were no screams.

  There was no crying.

  You could even count them — one shot for each doctor.

  None of the medics followed us. Only the guards remained — loyal and cold, just like the man now carrying me.