The next morning, Violet went to Chief Nazara's study as usual. The door was ajar, an unusual sight for that early hour.
She peeked in and froze. He was slumped over his desk, his quill fallen from lifeless fingers, ink spreading like black tears across his unfinished letters.
Before she could process what she was seeing, a scream pierced the air.
"Murderer!" Dominika shrieked from the doorway, pointing at her. "I saw her! She used her evil powers on Father! She killed him because he was going to send her away!"
"No!" Violet whispered, but her denial was drowned out by the thunder of approaching footsteps.
Lady Maria appeared, her face pale with grief and rage. "Someone seize her!" she commanded.
It didn't matter that Violet had been asleep in her room. It didn't matter that Chief Nazara had been clutching his chest for weeks, hiding his pain. The villagers were all too eager to believe the worst about the strange girl with unnatural powers.
She ran that day, tears blurring her vision as stones thrown by former neighbors whistled past her head. Up into the mountains she fled, where the air was thin and the solitude complete. Their shouts followed her, growing fainter with each step:
"Don't let her escape!" "She killed the chief!" "The devil-child must pay!"
But what hurt the most was hearing Dominika's voice carry on the wind:
"This is what you deserve, sea witch! This is what happens to creatures like you!"
The years in the mountains were hard, but they made Violet strong. The powers that had made her an outcast became her tools for survival. They helped her hunt, build shelter, and protect herself from the wilderness. Though she learned to control them, their origins remained a tormenting mystery that haunted her dreams.
One morning, the ache in her stomach forced her to act.
The village below was her only hope. She waited for the distant bells of the market to signal the vendors' arrival. When the sound finally rang out, she donned a tattered cloak, pulled the hood low, and made her way toward the village.
The market square buzzed with life, vendors shouting their wares and villagers haggling over prices. She lingered near a vegetable stall, waiting for the vendor to be distracted. Just as she prepared to snatch a handful of produce, a scream cut through the air.
"A wolf!" a woman wailed.
Violet froze. That voice was unmistakable. "Lady Maria?" she murmured, her hands clenching at her sides.
Her cries grew louder, "Someone, please help me! My daughter..."
Every instinct told Violet to turn away. This was the woman who had made her life a nightmare, who had turned the village against her, who had accused her of murdering Chief Nazara. But her words, "my daughter," rooted her to the spot.
The crowd scattered, running in terror. She dropped the vegetables and sprinted toward the commotion.
Her first instinct was to run away. The memory of Dominika's screams, her accusations, and the stones she'd thrown at her burned fresh in her mind. Why should she risk herself for her?
But then, another voice surfaced from her memories: Chief Nazara's gentle words. "You know you are Violet, you're kind and braver than anyone. I want you to always be like that."
Her hands trembled as she wrestled with her emotions. Lady Maria had destroyed her. How many times had her daughter, Dominika, joined in her torment? How many times had she wished them both gone?
But Chief Nazara's voice lingered.
"Kind and brave."
Before she could think, her feet were moving.
The scene was chaos. A massive wolf, larger than any she had seen, had Dominika pinned beneath it. The girl clutched a stick, barely keeping the beast's snapping jaws from her face.
Lady Maria was flinging chunks of meat, screaming and sobbing.
Violet closed her eyes, steeling herself, and ran toward the wolf.
The beast lunged, its jaws inches from Dominika's throat. She slammed her fist into its head with all the strength she could muster. The creature's skull shattered, its remains spraying over Dominika in a grotesque mess.
Silence fell.
"She's back," someone whispered. "Did you see that?" "Only royals can do that." "But she's not a royal..." "She's possessed. She'll kill us all."
But no one spoke to her directly.
The murmurs clawed at her, each word a dagger. But then, Dominika's voice broke through the noise.
"Violet?" she said softly.
She turned to her, stunned. Dominika's bloodied face was streaked with tears, but her expression was... grateful.
"Violet, is that you?" she whispered, stepping closer. Before Violet could react, she hugged her tightly.
"It is you," she said, her voice trembling. She turned to the murmuring crowd and declared, "My sister is back!"
The crowd went silent, their expressions a mix of confusion and disbelief.
"Sister?" Violet asked, her voice sharp with surprise.
"Yes, your sister," Lady Maria confirmed, stepping forward, her eyes brimming with tears. For a moment, Violet saw fear in her gaze, fear of her. But then, she did the unthinkable: she embraced her too.
"Thank you for saving my daughter," she said.
"If it hadn't been for you, your sister would have died."
Violet scoffed and moved to leave, shaking her head. "I'm going back home."
"Wait!" Lady Maria called out. "Please Violet, we need to talk, can we go home?"
"Home?"
"Yes, home, sis," Dominika chimed in, a hesitant smile on her face.
Before Violet could utter any word, Lady Maria placed her hands on her shoulders and guided her toward her home, the place she had once called hers.
The house smelled of ink and dust, just as she remembered it. Memories of her childhood surged with every creak of the floorboards. The study loomed at the end of the hall, its door slightly ajar. She stepped inside, her chest tightening.
The ink stain was still there, a dark blot on the desk where Chief Nazara had taken his final breath. Dust coated the bookshelves, his quill untouched since that fateful day. She picked it up, the weight of it pulling her back into the past.
His smile, his final smile, flashed in her mind like a ghost that refused to rest.
Dinner that night was surreal. Lady Maria called it a feast as she sat at the head, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. Outside, the muffled sound of the villagers' voices carried through the thin walls.
"She can't stay here!" someone shouted.
"She saved the chief's daughter!" another countered.
"Maybe she's royal," a woman speculated.
"Did you see her strength?"
"Impossible," a man argued. "The royals are all dead."
Inside, Lady Maria spoke softly as she stared at Violet, smiling nervously. "You know Violet, I am glad you are back."
"Why?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.
Lady Maria hesitated, her hands wringing the hem of her dress. "Because you're my daughter."
Violet scoffed, leaning back in her chair. "Funny. I thought I was a demon."
Lady Maria looked down, her voice trembling. "Violet, I said things...did things...I shouldn't have. If you were in my shoes, you'd understand. I was scared..."
"Scared that I'm different," she finished for her. "It's fine. I saved Dominika. That's all that matters."
"You sound just like Father," Dominika murmured, her voice trembling with emotion. She wiped at her eyes quickly, as if embarrassed by the tears.
The mention of Chief Nazara softened Violet. For a moment, they were united by the loss they all felt.
"Father was a bit of a weird man," she said with a small laugh. "Always scribbling something down."
Dominika chuckled. "Imagine locking yourself in a study all day like a prisoner!"
The tension broke, and for the first time in years, they laughed together.
The next morning, as Violet prepared to leave, Dominika hugged her tightly. "Violet, are you sure you don't want to stay?" she asked, her voice trembling with regret.
"No," Violet said firmly. "I have things to do."
"Things like what?"
"Lots of things you wouldn't be interested in," she said with a smirk.
"Not fair!" Dominika pouted, frowning at her.
"I wish you could stay," Lady Maria added, surprising Violet with an embrace of her own.
"But if you must go, I just want you to know I'm... I'm sorry for everything."
Her voice cracked, and Violet saw something genuine in her eyes. Still, she couldn't shake the feeling that this sudden kindness was too good to be true.
As she walked away, the villagers' whispers followed her like shadows:
"Look, she's leaving already."
"I don't know what the chief was thinking, bringing her here."
"We can't have a demon living in our midst."
"I still think she's a royal, she has their eyes."
"You're delusional."
She didn't look back. The answers she sought lay beyond the mountains, in the mystery of who or what she truly was.
That evening, back in her tattered shelter, Violet lay on the floor staring at the broken ceiling. The moonlight spilled through the cracks, illuminating the room in silvery fragments.
A memory crept into her mind, unbidden but vivid. It was a night long ago, when Chief Nazara and she had returned from fishing.
"Father?" she had asked as they walked under the stars.
"Yes, Violet?"
"Why does Mother hate me so much?"
He had stopped, kneeling down to look her in the eye. "Oh no, Violet. Don't say that. Your mother loves you. She might seem harsh, but she loves you just as much as she loves Dominika."
She had believed him. That night, she picked flowers to give to Lady Maria, hoping for a hug. Instead, she returned to find her favorite wooden toy smashed to pieces on the floor.
She screamed, running to gather the pieces. Lady Maria appeared in the doorway, watching her cry.
"That's for breaking Dominika's toy, you ungrateful child," she had said before turning away.
Chief Nazara rushed in, scooping her into his arms and carrying her to his study. He stayed with her all night, watching over her as she sobbed herself to sleep.
The next morning, he handed her a new toy. She had spent the whole day playing in his study, the only place she felt safe. But by the following night, the toy had disappeared. She'd known Dominika had taken it.
As the memories faded, Violet stared at the moon through the broken ceiling.
Why were Lady Maria and Dominika suddenly kind? It wasn't like them. Perhaps, as she had read in books, age softens people. Or perhaps they had realized cruelty was never the answer.