Chapter Two: The Name I Was Given
The air was thick with blood and silence.
Esterphania sat beside her mother's lifeless body, eyes red and hollow. She had stopped crying, but the tears still sat heavy in her chest, pressing against her ribs like stones. Time had stopped—she didn't know how long she had been there. Minutes. Hours. Days, maybe. Nothing mattered anymore.
The blood from Silvia's wound had dried in streaks along the kitchen tiles, and the strange knife still protruded from her body like a cruel insult. Esterphania didn't pull it out. What was the point?
She didn't flinch when the door creaked open. Footsteps followed—soft but firm, careful yet armored. Voices echoed down the hallway.
"Are there any survivors here?" a voice called out.
She didn't answer.
Silence again, then the same voice, this time lower and directed to someone nearby: "There's no one."
Another voice replied—harsher, commanding. "Search the building, Commander. What do I pay you for?"
A pause. "Sorry, Your Majesty."
Your Majesty? she thought. So… a king?
Still, she didn't move. Let them find her. If they tried anything, she'd set them on fire. She didn't care anymore. They'd die like that girl had. Humans were weak. Fragile.
But the voices didn't sound cruel. If anything… they sounded careful. Curious.
A few seconds later, she heard footsteps nearing her. The door to the kitchen creaked open further, and a tall figure stepped into the light.
He wore the armor of a palace guard, polished black and silver. His eyes widened as they landed on the small girl sitting beside a corpse, unmoving, with blood-red eyes and crimson hair like a halo of fire around her face.
"My King," the soldier called out, voice low, as if afraid to disturb the moment. "There's a survivor."
A second man entered the room.
He was tall, cloaked in a flowing navy robe trimmed with silver, his hair dark and tousled like wind-blown night. His eyes locked with hers immediately.
He froze.
"You're… a half-demon and a half-vampire," the king said slowly, a mix of shock and awe in his voice.
The commander immediately reached for his sword, drawing it with a sharp hiss of steel. "What if she's part of the vampires that attacked the village?"
The king held up a hand. "Wait."
"She could be dangerous!"
Esterphania didn't move. Her red eyes narrowed slightly. So those things outside were vampires…
Vampires…? she repeated in her mind, fire rekindling behind her ribs. I'll make them regret what they did. I'll make every last one of them burn for taking my mother from me.
"Look at her," the king said calmly. "Does she look like she attacked anyone?"
"No," the commander admitted, reluctantly. "But a vampire is a vampire, my King. You don't know what they'll do."
"She's a half-breed."
"With her other half being a demon! My King, demons and vampires are not welcomed in this world—and she is both!"
The king sighed, rubbing his temple as he stepped further into the room. "She's a child," he said, looking back at her. "We'll imprison her. Question her. She's… beautiful. The dead woman must be her mother."
"She was a pure demon," the commander added.
Esterphania's eyes flared.
"Silvia," she said suddenly.
Both men blinked, startled by the voice.
"What?" the king asked, turning to her.
She lifted her chin. Her voice was laced with defiance, her small body unmoving beside the bloodied corpse.
"My mother is called Silvia. Not 'the woman.' Not 'it.' Silvia."
The king tilted his head. Something flickered in his eyes—curiosity, maybe. Or was it… amusement?
He knelt slowly until he was at her eye level.
"You're bold," he said softly. "What's your name?"
"Esterphania."
"Esterphania…" he repeated, tasting the syllables like they were something rare.
"Did you know that Silvia was a demon?"
"Yes," she answered without hesitation. "And so am I."
The king nodded slightly. "Do you know that you're also half vampire?"
She hesitated. For the first time, the certainty in her voice cracked.
"That's probably why they didn't attack you," he continued. "They sensed it. That you were one of them."
Something in her heart thudded uncomfortably.
She had never smelled like her mother. Not exactly. There had always been a difference—faint, but present. And now that she thought about it… those creatures outside… they smelled similar to her. Not like Silvia. But like her.
"What… are you?" she asked suddenly. "You don't smell like a demon. Or a vampire."
The king smiled faintly. "I'm a lycan."
Her eyes widened. She had only heard of them in whispers—beasts that could shift, warriors of the moon.
"Then you're like them," she said carefully. "The humans. But stronger."
"Something like that," he said with a shrug.
He rose to his feet, a hand resting on the hilt of his sword. He studied her for a long moment before speaking again.
"What do you think of the name Esterphania de Von Silver?"
She blinked. "What?"
"I'd like for you to be my daughter."
Silence.
And then—
"What?!" the commander roared.
"Your Majesty, this is insanity! You want to adopt a demon-vampire child? The same creatures we've fought against for centuries?"
"She's just a child," the king said calmly.
"But she's—"
"She's powerful," the king cut in, his voice sharper now. "And she's lost everything."
Esterphania stared up at him. Her heart was a confused tangle of rage, pain, and something else—uncertainty.
Why would a king want her? What game was he playing?
But… maybe this was her chance.
A new name. A new life.
A chance to become something more.
She looked at Silvia's body one last time, then rose to her feet slowly, the blood of her heritage and the fire of her grief burning quietly beneath her skin.
"Fine," she said softly. "But I keep my name. Esterphania first. Always."
The king smiled again.
"A fierce one," he said.
"Like Silvia," Esterphania replied.
And the wind carried her name that night like a warning.
Esterphania de Von Silver.