A little boy sobbed as two guards held him back.
"Father! Father, please stop!" he screamed, over and over.
His older sister, Kazhan, was being punished—flogged with red-hot steel by their own father. The mansion was silent, cold as the evening air, its halls echoing like a graveyard. No one moved. No one spoke.
Only the cries of the boy and the agonized screams of his sister filled the void.
The punishment dragged on for hours, until Kazhan collapsed from the pain. Her father, finally fed up, dropped the steel and walked away, leaving her crumpled on the floor.
No one came to help.
The guards released the boy. He ran to her side, tears streaming down his face.
"Kazhan! Kazhan! Wake up! Wake up!" he cried, shaking her gently.
"Somebody help! Please, help me!"
He repeated the plea again and again, until a young maid—no older than he was—rushed forward.
"I'll help," she said softly. "Don't worry. I'll use my power to heal her. My mother taught me how.
Her words calmed him, just enough to breathe.
"Please help... she's the only one I've got.
The maid, Mira, looked back at the boy—at Ninhu—with eyes full of quiet strength. His face was soaked in tears.
"Don't worry," she whispered, offering a gentle smile. "Everything will be fine."
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