Chapter 2 — The Night Everything Burned
The first sound that broke the silence wasn't the door—it was the dog.
A sudden, sharp bark cut through the quiet, followed by a whine that faded too quickly. Then came the footsteps. Slow. Careful. Heavy.
Kris stirred in her sleep, clutching the silver locket her father had given her. The moonlight traced soft lines across her face. She heard something—glass breaking. Then her mother's voice.
> "Aven?" she whispered into the darkness.
"Stay quiet," her father hissed.
Kris opened her eyes just in time to see her father slip past her doorway, his shadow outlined by the faint light of the hall. Her mother was already standing, pulling Kris gently from her bed.
> "Mama, what's happening?"
"Shh," Elara whispered, her voice trembling. "It's just the wind."
But her eyes said something else.
Fear. Real fear. The kind that sinks into your bones.
Elara led her to the small space beneath the stairs — their hiding spot during storms. The air smelled like dust and wood polish. Kris crouched down, clutching her locket.
> "No matter what happens," Elara said, her hand trembling against Kris's cheek, "you stay here. You don't make a sound."
Then she shut the door.
The world fell silent.
Then it exploded.
---
💥 Shadows and Shouts
Gunfire. Shouting. The sound of boots slamming against the wooden floor.
Kris covered her ears, biting her lip so hard she tasted blood.
> "Where is it?" a man's voice roared.
"Please—please, don't hurt her!" her mother cried.
Kris's heart pounded. She wanted to run, but her father's words replayed in her mind: "No matter what happens, my star…"
She peeked through a small crack in the wooden door.
Three men. One by the window, holding a gun. Another searching drawers, throwing things to the floor. The third—tall, with a scar cutting across his cheek—stood over her parents.
> "We warned you," the scarred man said. "You should've kept quiet."
Her father was bleeding from the mouth, but he didn't beg.
> "You can kill me," he said, voice shaking, "but don't touch them."
The man laughed, low and cruel.
> "You think you get to make demands now, Aven?"
He raised his gun.
Kris's mother screamed. The gunshot echoed like thunder trapped inside the walls.
The world blurred. Her ears rang. She pressed her hand against her mouth to stop herself from crying out.
Then another shot.
And then—silence.
---
🌑 The World Collapses
The smell of gunpowder mixed with smoke. Something was burning.
Kris didn't remember opening the door, but suddenly she was standing in the hall. Her bare feet stepped into something warm. Blood.
> "Mama?" she whispered.
Her parents lay on the floor. Her father's hand was stretched toward her mother's, their fingers almost touching.
> "Mama, wake up," she said softly, shaking her mother's arm.
"Papa?"
No one answered.
Tears blurred her vision. She pressed her small hands to her father's chest, trying to feel something—anything. But there was nothing left to feel.
The sound of footsteps made her freeze.
She turned.
The scarred man stood in the doorway. His gun hung loosely in his hand, his expression cold and unreadable.
> "You shouldn't have come out, little one," he said.
Kris backed away, trembling. Her voice was gone. Her whole body shook.
He crouched down to her level, the barrel of his gun glinting under the flicker of the burning curtains.
> "You didn't see anything, did you?" he asked softly.
She couldn't speak.
He smiled — a terrible, cruel smile.
"Good girl."
He stood up, tossed a lighter toward the couch, and walked away. Flames spread quickly, devouring curtains, carpets, and walls.
Kris stood frozen as the fire grew. Her chest hurt. Her throat burned from the smoke. Then, somewhere deep inside, something snapped.
She ran.
---
🔥 The Escape
The fire chased her like a monster.
Smoke curled down the hallway, licking the walls. Kris stumbled over broken glass, the locket swinging from her neck. She reached the door, but it was locked from the outside.
Panic rose in her throat. She coughed, eyes burning.
She kicked, screamed, pulled at the handle until her hands bled. The door didn't budge.
Then—crack!
A window shattered near the kitchen. She crawled toward it, coughing and crying. The wooden floor scorched her knees.
She climbed up the counter, pushed through the frame, and fell hard into the cold night air.
The grass was wet. The world was spinning. Behind her, the house burned brighter, brighter, until it wasn't her home anymore—just a pile of light and smoke.
Her parents were gone.
Her world was gone.
Everything she had known was gone.
She lay there for a long time, watching the fire eat the life she once had. Then, slowly, she got up.
---
🌧️ Alone in the Ashes
When morning came, the fire had died, leaving behind only gray ash and the smell of smoke.
People gathered at the edges of what used to be her home. Neighbors whispered. Some gasped. None of them came close.
A police car arrived. The officer asked questions she didn't understand.
> "Where were you, sweetheart?"
"Do you know who did this?"
She just stared at her shoes, her voice locked deep inside.
They called her an orphan that day.
A word too big for someone so small.
The town pitied her. The papers said "Tragic Fire Claims Local Family."
No one mentioned the gunshots. No one spoke of the men who killed her parents.
---
🕯️ The Funeral
Two small coffins.
White lilies. A sky too blue for such a sad day.
Kris stood between two social workers she barely knew. She didn't cry. She couldn't. It was as if her tears had burned away with the house.
When they lowered the coffins into the ground, a gust of wind blew past her face.
The silver locket grew warm against her chest.
> "I'll protect you both," she whispered, echoing her father's last promise.
She didn't know what protection meant anymore.
---
🌫️ The Orphanage
The car that took her away smelled like plastic and lemon.
The orphanage was an old brick building on the edge of town, surrounded by iron gates. It didn't feel like a home — it felt like a box for the forgotten.
The matron, Mrs. Garron, smiled too wide.
> "You'll be safe here, dear," she said, voice sticky sweet.
Kris didn't answer.
Days passed. Weeks.
The children whispered about her — the girl whose house burned down. Some said she was cursed. Some said she started the fire herself.
She never corrected them.
Every night, she dreamed of her parents' faces, fading behind the flames. She'd wake up screaming, clutching the locket, whispering apologies to no one.
---
🌑 The Promise
One evening, she snuck out of bed and walked to the small chapel beside the orphanage. The air smelled like old wood and candle wax.
She stood before the cross, her hands trembling.
> "If You're real," she whispered, "then why did You let them die? Why me?"
Her voice cracked.
> "I was just a kid. I didn't do anything wrong. So why?"
The silence that followed was heavy and endless.
She waited for an answer, but none came.
Something inside her hardened that night.
Not hate—not yet. But something colder. A seed of it.
She looked up at the wooden cross one last time.
> "If You won't protect me," she said quietly, "I'll protect myself."
---
The moonlight followed her back to her room, pale and cold.
Kris lay awake, watching shadows move across the ceiling.
She pressed the silver locket against her chest.
It was warm again.
She didn't know why, but somehow she felt her parents were still with her — not as comfort, but as ghosts.
She turned her face to the wall and whispered,
> "I'll find them, Mama. I'
ll find the ones who did this."
And as the wind howled outside, the last trace of the naive little girl disappeared into the dark.
That night, Kris Aven stopped being a child.
And the fire inside her heart was reborn — not as warmth, but as vengeance.