The morning was quiet. As always.
The sun was only just beginning to slip through the tall crowns of trees that had sheltered us all my life. The air smelled of wet earth, pine needles, and wild honey from a hidden beehive. I felt the chill of morning dew on my feet and the softness of moss beneath my toes.
Father was in his workshop — the one that smelled of herbs and smoke, with scattered parchments I wasn't allowed to touch. Mother sat on the bench in front of the house, holding that strange, beautiful notebook — a leather cover, silver runes I never understood… But it bore my name. Only mine.
She lifted her gaze, as if she'd heard something deep within the forest. I heard nothing.
But Mother — once a warrior of the Meraghit Army — had hearing keen enough to sense even the faintest unrest. She froze for a long moment, then closed the book with a soft snap. Even then, she knew.
She knew it was coming.
She knew our days of peace were ending.
"Yui, inside. It's time," she said softly, with a smile that carried too much sorrow for an ordinary morning.
I rose to my feet and followed her without a word. The house was warm — too warm. It smelled of fire, dust, lavender, and something… disturbingly bitter. A shadow of fear. I noticed Father hadn't returned to his workshop. He stood in the hall, as if waiting. He held something in his hands — the book. The same one. When I saw it, my heart began to pound harder.
"For me?" I asked quietly, uncertain.
Mother only nodded and knelt beside me. Her fingers brushed over my hand.
"If… we're ever gone, this book will be our voice. Our home. We'll always be with you, Yui. Here, inside," she said, placing the tome in my hands. "Never lose it. Never go anywhere without it."
Father crouched next to me, resting his hand on my shoulder. His touch was warm, heavy with emotion.
"Always hold your head high. Don't let the world bend you. You are our daughter. Our pride. A miracle forbidden by the world, but blessed by life itself."
I wanted to say something, to ask why their voices sounded so… final. But then Father touched my forehead with two fingers and murmured a short spell.
The world fell silent.
Literally.
My ears clogged, my senses cut off. I could no longer hear the fire, the voices, or even breath. Only my heartbeat thundered in my chest. Mother's lips were moving, but I couldn't hear a single word. Father looked at her and nodded. I understood only one thing: this was their farewell.
He held me tightly and lifted me. In silence. He smelled of fire, dust, and that herbal elixir he always brewed when he was afraid.
He carried me down to the hidden passage beneath the floor — to the bunker I knew existed but had never entered. Cold stone steps, then darkness. He wrapped me in a woolen blanket, laid me on a bed of hay, and kissed my forehead.
His hand trembled before he spoke another spell. This time, sleep washed over me like a warm wave. I couldn't move. My eyes closed on their own.
But before I drifted away, I saw one thing: tears in his eyes. And a smile — not the joyful kind, but the last one. A farewell.
When I woke, the warmth was gone. So were the voices.
It was cold. Quiet. Strange.
I grabbed the book lying by my side and climbed the ladder.
The earth was dead. The forest was silent. The house — burned to its foundations.
And then I saw them.
Hanging from the trees. Naked, defiled. Runes burned into their skin shimmered with dark magic. Their bodies swayed in the wind like cursed marionettes.
I clutched the book, digging my nails into the leather cover until blood seeped out.
"Mom… Dad…?" I sobbed, and for the first time, the world truly shattered.
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