Anna-Maria was a witch, but she was by no means an ordinary one.
Choosing to abandon her responsibilities and whatever dark designs the Coven was planning, she had left her birthplace behind to care for her three daughters.
She had had enough of fighting and hating.
She only wanted peace, and she refused to let her daughters grow up in that environment. So she took them and vanished.
She chose to settle in a village on the border of the Kingdom of Skargardia, where a distant relative lived and offered them a home.
She had lived there and raised her daughters: Airam, Hermione, and Esther in five unbroken years of pure, peaceful bliss.
She hadn't regretted her decision for a single second.
But that happiness was only meant to last five years.
"We are under attack!"
"The knights are attacking!"
"They found us!"
Panic seized Anna-Maria.
Their village was indeed home to witches, but it was not a coven. It was a peaceful settlement, and until now, they had blended perfectly among the ordinary folk.
"Wait!"
"Help—!"
"Please don't—harhh!"
Screams echoed through the air as the villagers were slaughtered and executed around them.
"Mama…"
Anna-Maria turned to see Esther clutching her sleeve, trembling with terror.
Airam and Hermione were managing to hold themselves together better, but they were clearly frightened.
"Come, follow me. Stay silent," Anna-Maria whispered, gripping Esther's hand tightly. She crouched low and led them out of their small hut.
The sound of magic exploding and the terrified screams were horrific, but Anna-Maria's only priority was her daughters. She knew exactly what kind of fate awaited the children of witches especially here in Skargardia, a Kingdom renowned across the world for its ruthless hatred of her kind.
"Found a family over here!"
Anna-Maria froze. She spun around to see a knight levelling a rifle at them. She recognised the weapon immediately: it fired ammunition designed to freeze the veins of a witch, severing their connection to witchcraft entirely.
Anna-Maria acted immediately. She swept her hand out, and the knight was sent flying as though he had been hit by a truck.
He hit the ground with a loud crunch, his neck snapping instantly, but the noise immediately drew the attention of several others.
Biting her lip, Anna-Maria raised a hand, her bright red eyes glowing. Sharp spikes of earth violently erupted from the ground, impaling the approaching knights one by one.
"Run!" Anna-Maria shouted, turning to flee, only to come face-to-face with another knight, his sword already swinging downward in a lethal arc.
But before the blade could fall, the tip of a sword burst through the centre of his chest from behind.
The knight spat blood as the light faded from his eyes, and he collapsed, revealing a young man behind him. He had hair the colour of spilled, dark wine, and eyes shaded like deep pools of blood.
Anna-Maria flinched slightly just looking at him, and her daughters shrank back behind her, peeking out with wide, worried eyes.
Ulrich held her gaze for a single second before stepping over to a nearby cart and yanking back the heavy white sheet covering it.
"Get in and hide," he said.
Anna-Maria stared at him for a moment, then without another second of hesitation climbed in with her daughters.
Ulrich instantly pulled the sheet back over them and walked away.
Horrified screams continued to tear through the air outside, leaving them to only listen in the dark.
Anna-Maria pulled her daughters into a tight embrace, waiting. Minutes bled away; the screams echoed on, but they were beginning to diminish.
And that scared her.
What if this had been his plan all along? To isolate them, to keep them from running so he could subject her and her daughters to something far worse?
Hesitantly, she lifted the edge of the heavy sheet.
It was a fatal mistake. A nearby man caught her eye instantly.
He immediately strode toward the cart, levelling his rifle.
"Stay here," Anna-Maria whispered to her daughters, and scrambled out.
She raised her hand at once, but in her sheer panic and desperation, she failed to notice the second knight approaching from her blind side until he drove his sword deep into her waist.
Anna-Maria gasped as the blade tore through her.
She tried to raise her hand again, but the man in front of her had already fired. The rifle cracked, sending needle-like bullets embedding into her chest and throat.
Instantly, the ever-present connection to the world that she had felt her entire life as a witch was severed, plunging her into a hollow void.
"Kill the whore."
"You don't have to tell me twice."
The knight who had stabbed her smirked, raising his sword for the killing blow, only for another blade to plunge deeply through his chest from behind.
It was Airam, her eyes burning with dark bottomless hatred, struggling under the weight of the heavy sword she had lifted.
The knight glared back at her before collapsing heavily into the dirt beside Anna-Maria.
"You little—!"
The rifleman immediately drew his own sword and rushed forward to handle her.
He swung hard. Airam threw up her stolen blade to parry, but the sheer force of the blow sent her flying backward, her head cracking sharply against the wooden wheel of the cart.
Still hidden inside the cart, Hermione sobbed, clutching Esther tightly to her chest.
Seeing the knight advancing on her sister, Hermione was just about to throw herself out of the cart when the man's head was abruptly sent flying from his shoulders.
Ulrich stood behind him, lowering his sword.
His gaze fell to Anna-Maria, crumpled on the ground.
She was dying.
A rare, sharp flash of annoyance crossed Ulrich's eyes at the sight.
Even knowing what was going to happen, he hadn't been able to prevent her death, the one act that was supposed to ensure her daughters wouldn't spiral into madness.
He dropped quickly to one knee to inspect her wounds, but… no.
She couldn't be saved, and he highly doubted anyone else around here would even try.
"P—Please…"
Anna-Maria choked on her own blood, looking up at Ulrich. She reached out a trembling hand, her fingers gripping his immaculate white sleeve and staining it a deep red.
"Pro… Protect them…"
Ulrich stared down at Anna-Maria, watching the tears of blood gathering in her eyes.
He gave her a small nod.
Seeing that clear, unhesitating promise, a profound wave of relief washed over Anna-Maria. She felt the sincerity in his gesture, and in the end, that was enough.
She turned her tear-filled gaze toward her daughters, who were already rushing toward her, and managed a faint, broken smile.
Unable to speak, she simply mouthed the words, "I love you," before her eyes finally slipped shut.
"Mama!"
"Mother!"
All three girls threw themselves at Anna-Maria, bursting into violent, racking sobs as they clung to her lifeless body.
Their wails were loud enough, and broken enough, to draw the eyes of nearly every soldier remaining in the clearing.
One of them was a young man two years older than Ulrich, wearing heavy white armour that was now drenched in the blood of his victims. He had striking, short pink hair and narrow brown eyes.
He was the Crown Prince of the Kingdom of Skargardia, Albert Van Skargardia.
"What do we have here?" He asked, a wide, twisted smile spreading across his face as his eyes lingered hungrily on each of the crying girls.
"Daughters of a witch, it seems, Your Highness."
The young, blonde-haired man accompanying him, slightly older than Ulrich replied with a faint smirk.
He was the eldest son of Duke Gravenberg, Julian Gravenberg.
Albert scanned the three girls, his twisted gaze settling particularly on Airam. "They will make excellent slaves. Take them," he ordered.
One of the royal knights stepped forward.
Airam snatched up a discarded sword and immediately threw herself in front of Hermione, who was shielding a sobbing Esther.
But she didn't have to do anything. Ulrich simply raised his bloodied sword, barring the knight's path.
The knight turned, a glare already forming, but the moment he met Ulrich's icy, crimson eyes, his expression rapidly dissolved into unease.
"What are you doing, Ulrich?" Julian snapped, glaring at him.
"These three are mine," Ulrich replied.
"Are you disobeying me, Ulrich?" Albert asked, his smile slipping slightly.
"I could ask you the same question," Ulrich retorted, turning his trademark calm, disdainful gaze upon the prince. "This is my territory. You are here only because I allowed it, and because His Majesty requested it. If I want these girls, I will take them."
"You—! How dare you!" Julian stepped forward, anger in his eyes, but Albert threw out an arm to stop him, his own gaze turning frigid.
"I am the Crown Prince and your future King. I take whatever I want. Even slaves," he said.
"They aren't slaves," Ulrich replied, casting a brief glance at the three girls. "I am adopting them as daughters of the Rubenhart House."
Every jaw in the clearing dropped open in utter shock.
But the most shocked of all were the three sisters themselves, staring up at Ulrich in disbelief.