(Ancient temple, South-western hall, whispering woods)

  Erina trembled, though a small part of her felt relieved. Two strangers had saved her and her father from the cults. Their white and red hair were the only thing she remembered about them.

  She wanted to believe they were safe now. But as the battle’s chaos faded, silence took its place.

  The only light came from the dying embers of the fire spells that had lit the room moments ago.

  Darkness crept back in, swallowing the space, inch by inch. One of the fallen torches nearby was barely burning, its flame weak and flickering.

  Erina reached for it, fingers shaking as she picked it up, the dim glow offering her a slight vision.

  Her father sat beside her, one arm wrapped around her shoulders, his other hand pressing against the wound on his shoulder.

  She could still feel the warmth of his blood staining her sleeve.

  Five minutes passed. Then ten. The quiet stretched on. The only sound was the steady, distant rhythm of rain outside, a soft, constant patter against the stone.

  The two men who had saved them went deeper into the temple, searching for her mother and brother. Please, kind sirs, you are my only hope.

  Erina gripped the torch a little tighter.

  She opened her mouth. Nothing came out of it. Not even a single word.

  Her father pulled her closer, his embrace firm but gentle. The way he held her—like he was afraid she’d disappear—made her heart ache.

  Her thoughts spun. Why? We are just traders. We have traveled this routes countless times, never running into trouble. What changed this time?

  Erina’s gaze dropped to her father’s wound. Blood still seeped from it, slow but steady. She wished—more than anything—she could heal him.

  Erina hovered her hand over the wound, not even sure what she expected. Some spark of instinct. A miracle. Anything.

  If she needed it badly enough, maybe it would just… happen.

  But it didn’t.

  The blood kept coming and her hand stayed empty.

  Her father stirred, his lips curling into a faint smile. “Aren’t you a bit too old to play healer, dear?”

  She didn’t respond. She Couldn’t.

  His voice softened. “Your mom used to do the same thing to me. Back when we were young.”

  He coughed. Pain laced the sound. He shifted back, easing out of her grip.

  She looked at him. “You should’ve let me train, years ago, when I asked.”

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  He met her eyes. “Yeah… maybe I was wrong.”

  A pause.

  Then, “Tell you what. When we get back to Silverbrook, we’ll make it happen. Magic school, tutor, whatever you need. I’ll handle your brother.” His hand brushed over her hair, slow and warm.

  “But then you’ll be overwhelmed running our business,” she said quietly. “Am I being selfish?”

  “No. Everyone has their own wishes.” He tried lowering his bleeding arm, then winced and gave up.

  “You, Dad?” she asked, helping him support it. “You’ve outsmarted Felian traders for years. That your wish?”

  “That one’s number two,” He gave a tired laugh, “Number one is. I just hope that in the next life, our family’s together again—me, you, your mother, your brother. Just… better circumstances,” he added.

  “Who knows? Maybe I’ll be reborn as a noble and marry your mom, who's just some commoner this time, since clearly I racked up better karma than she did.” He laughed, soft and breathless.

  “Shut up, Dad,” she said, smiling as she wrapped her arms around him again. “Me too.”

  And now—

  Her eyelids felt heavier. The torch in her grip wavered slightly as exhaustion settled deep into her bones.

  Maybe… just for a moment.

  Her father’s voice, low and soothing, barely reached her ears. “It’s alright,” he murmured.

  She wanted to believe him.

  Her breathing slowed, her mind slipping into the edges of sleep.

  The rain outside, the lingering warmth of her father’s embrace, the gentle motion of his hand against her hair—everything felt distant.

  Safe.

  Her grip loosened on the torch. The world faded.

  ...

  ...

  ...

  Then—

  A distant noise.

  Not from the rain.

  A sound from the entrance of the temple.

  Her father’s arm tensed around her, his body shifting slightly. Erina’s eyes fluttered open, her momentary peace shattered by the realization— They weren’t alone.

  The moment the guttural screams echoed from the temple entrance, Erina’s breath hitched.

  She whipped her head around, eyes widening as the two figures—barefoot, half-naked, and wild-eyed—staggered inside. The man clutched his head, face twisted in fury and pain, while the woman’s hands curled into fists around a dagger.

  Their damp skin glistened in the dim chamber and locked eyes with her. With another shriek, they lunged.

  "Run!" her father barked, arms spread wide, stepping in front of her.

  But Erina didn’t freeze—her body moved on instinct. She grabbed his wrist and pulled. "No, we have to go, together!" she pleaded.

  He hesitated for only a second before nodding. Together, they bolted deeper into the temple. The flickering torch in Erina’s hand barely kept the darkness at bay.

  Behind them, footsteps thundered, closing in.

  Then—

  "AAARRRGHH!" Her father staggered as a sharp, wet sound cut through the air. He lurched forward, catching himself against the floor, his breath coming out in ragged gasps.

  "Father!" Erina’s torchlight flickered over his shoulder, and her stomach dropped. The hilt of a dagger jutted out from his already wounded shoulder, fresh blood seeping into his tunic.

  Before she could react, the woman was upon them. The attacker wrenched the dagger free in one swift, brutal motion, and her father’s body jerked. Blood sprayed onto the damp stone, a deep, wet red against the gray.

  Erina screamed.

  She moved without thinking, lunging at the woman with all her strength. Her small hands grasped wildly before sinking her teeth deep into the woman's ear. "LET MY FATHER GOOOOO!"

  The metallic tang of blood flooded her mouth as the woman shrieked and twisted, trying to shake her off.

  "You little—!" A hand wrapped around Erina’s throat.

  Suddenly, she was weightless—her feet lifted off the ground as the woman’s grip tightened, squeezing the air from her lungs. Her vision blurred at the edges. She clawed at the woman’s wrists, but her fingers were weak, trembling. The dagger gleamed in the dim torchlight, poised for her throat.

  No—no!

  Before the blade could sink in, her father tackled the woman from behind. They crashed onto the cold floor, her father wrapping his arms around the attacker’s waist in a desperate struggle. The man with the head wound was approaching fast, fury radiating off him.

  Erina gasped for air, stumbling backward.

  "Run, Erina!" her father yelled, voice hoarse. "Find those two men!"

  "But—!"

  "It’s alright," he panted, glancing at her with a strained smile. "Just go. You come back here to help me once you find those two gentlemen."He was already pale, swaying on his feet, blood soaking his sleeve, but she could see it in his eyes—he wasn’t planning on making it out.

  She clenched her fists as tears welled in her eyes. Liar. You’re trying to sacrifice yourself, aren’t you? Please—please, something. Anything. Help us.

  Another scream rang out as the woman tried to rise, but her father pinned her down again, forcing her face against the stone floor. The man loomed closer, his shadow stretching over them.

  Erina had no choice.

  Tears blurred her vision as she turned and ran.

  The last thing she heard before sprinting into the darkness was her father’s voice, hoarse but steady.

  "You're dead now, evil bastards. My daughter’s bringing our saviors!"

  —