I ran to my mother's side. The cold that slipped through the door's crack made the room feel even heavier. "What's happening, Mother?" I asked, forcing the words out; my voice trembled.
Elira's eyes flashed like embers; her breath was short. She laid a shaking hand on my face. "Riven! Get inside, now!" she whispered—her voice almost an order. There was panic in her gaze, but also a fierce tenderness; it took me a moment to understand how the two could live in the same look.
Voices from outside fell over the house like a shadow. At first a distant murmur, then a sharp cry: "Give us the cursed child! We won't harm you if you hand him over!" The words were filthy with hatred. Even the windows seemed to tremble.
My father Elandor, usually calm, was different that morning—his movements were clipped, his jaw set. He walked to the door with heavy, determined steps. He looked out through the gap, then turned to us. "I'd rather die than give you my son!" he shouted. The fear under his words couldn't be hidden; he grabbed a stone, clenched it in his palm, and flung it outside. As the rock flew, the crowd's murmur swelled into an angry roar—a surge of fury, wild and dangerous.
The villagers grew more enraged. Whatever was in their hands was thrown; curses echoed through the air. The people at the gate rose like a dark tide, and the excitement in their eyes made my skin crawl.
My mother pulled me close and shoved me behind the wardrobe. The cold wood pressed against me. I felt Elira's knees trembling; when she turned to me her lips quivered. Her gaze snapped to my eyes—those red eyes, the mark of the curse. She whispered, barely louder than her breath, "No matter what... stay silent." Her lips tightened as if she were trying to convince herself as much as me.
My father stood at the door, bracing his body against it. His fingers had turned white around the knob; there was a tension in him, a strange mix of courage and fear. "Do not come in!" he cried, and for a moment his voice was so strong my chest eased. But that relief did not last.
A hand suddenly shoved through the door. When I heard someone being seized in the chaos, a cold numbness spread through me. My mother's scream—long and broken—filled every corner of the house. Time stretched for an instant; the creak of chairs, the thud of boots, the shouts blended into a single roar. My mother pleaded, her voice trembling, words knotted in her throat: "Please… please… leave him…" But no one wanted to hear a mother's pleas.
In the cramped darkness of the wardrobe, everything blurred. I pressed my eye to a narrow crack and watched my mother. Her hands opened and closed; her skin had gone pale. I looked into her eyes—something had gone out of them. In an instant my world shattered: my mother collapsing to the floor, a body going still; the moment frozen as if time itself had been trapped.
I wanted to scream. A volcano rose inside me, but my voice would not come; something heavy choked my throat. My hands shook, my knees began to give. Then a sound ripped out of me—not a human cry, but something breaking inside my chest. My sight darkened; everything spun around me.
Suddenly my father was beside me, his arms clamping around me. His face was ashen, his lips pressed thin. "RUN, RIVEN!" he shouted. His voice was both an order and a prayer. I looked into his eyes and saw only helplessness and love. The force in his hands had sharpened into a will to sacrifice for me. Though every instinct screamed to stay with my mother, my father's arms demanded escape.
I glanced back. My mother's face—her tiny nod, the barely formed word that slipped from her lips—remained a nightmare burned into my mind. Something inside me felt ripped away; it was as if a piece of me had been torn out. My father dragged me out into the dark streets. Our feet threw up clods of earth; our breaths rose like smoke.
That night I made a vow; the words barely left my lips but within me they glinted like a blade: "One day... I will take revenge." The words echoed through the silence. Anger, pain, and a sudden cold clarity merged. From that moment on, Riven—the child—was no more.
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