Chapter 2: Faith and Failure
My father's tears hurt more than the screams.
Seeing him—strong, unyielding David—broken and bleeding tore something inside me.
Mom's voice cracked like thunder.
"You trained her for this, didn't you?" she screamed, hands trembling, blood streaking her cheek.
"Taught her to fight, to shoot—things no ten-year-old should know! You called them games, but you told her to use them against 'bad people' if you weren't there. You knew!"
She clutched me tightly, her sobs shaking us both.
"Isa was never meant for this. Because of you, she'll never have a normal life. You failed her!"
Her eyes met mine, heavy with sorrow.
"I didn't want this for you, Isa. But here we are, trapped because of him. He knew they'd come. He had no faith."
She turned back to him, fists clenched.
"You should've given them what they wanted! But no—you held on, too stubborn, too selfish. You never thought of us!"
Her voice broke into sobs. She covered her face.
I stood frozen, their words swirling like smoke—king, pact, failure.
They called me the next king, those shadowed men with cruel eyes.
Why? I was just a girl. Ten years old. Trembling in the dark.
Dad's lessons—how to dodge a punch, how to aim—weren't just play. They were for this moment.
But why?
Beneath their voices, that hum again. Soft. Eerie.
Like a song from nowhere.
It curled through the air, made my skin prickle.
The masked man in the corner tilted his head. His pale eyes glinted.
His lips moved faintly, humming the same note—as if he heard it too.
Dad's voice broke through, quiet but steady.
"You're right, Mia."
He looked at her, love and guilt etched into his bloodied face.
Whatever he'd done, whatever secrets he kept—his love for her was true.
Even I could see that.
He pulled her close, kissed her hair as she sobbed into his chest.
Then he turned to me.
"Come here, Isa."
I stepped forward, trembling.
He knelt—wincing—and kissed my forehead.
"My brave girl," he whispered, his voice shaking.
"My next in line. You're going to survive this. You know why?"
I nodded, throat tight. I didn't know why.
But I trusted him.
"Because you're my blood."
His smile was faint, fleeting—the last I'd see.
He turned to Mom.
"Mia, you're smarter than anyone I know. I might not make it, but I have faith you and Isa will."
His voice cracked.
"I love you both. Everything I have—it's in Isa's name. She'll claim it at twenty-six. Until then, it's enough to keep you safe."
Mom stared at him, tears falling faster.
Then she slapped him. The sound was sharp in the stifling air.
"We all survive, David," she said, her voice fierce.
"You don't get to give up."
The masked man stepped closer.
His hum grew louder, like a warning.
Mom's grip on my hand tightened.
I looked at Dad.
His eyes still held that faint, proud smile.
The hum swelled—louder, deeper—drowning their voices.
And I felt the weight of their words—king, blood, survive—settle into my bones.