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Seven days before Annika's 21st birthday

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SHE WAS RUNNING THROUGH THE WOODS, letting the wind play with her long orange hair. Well, it was orange from root to the middle around her waist, where it began to turn white until the ends of it; the same with her straight eyebrows that were orange but with white tips at the sharp ends. It was her favorite feeling when she was in a bitter mood, because running through the woods like this gave her a false sense of freedom.

The waxing gibbous moon was high on the sky, it's period almost ending as the full moon would take its place on the night, she was to be turning 21 years old.

Her dad gave her a big Royal name, Donna-Annika Corvina Faelyn Beatrice Esmeray Geneva. But too long.

However, she liked to go by Donna. It was short and simple, and it was her first name after all. Though her nanny had told her that her mother intended to call her Annika for short, she despised the name for that exact same reason. She never knew her mother, since she died seven days after she gave birth to her.

All she knew of the woman was bad stuff. Including the fact that she sold her to the Devil. The monstrous being who came to earth occasionally to steal young men and woman, many of them married. There were countless tales of his bad deeds, and she wasn't anxious to meet him.

Her father, who was quite the terrible one, had told her more than once how horrifying the Devil was, since he met him on the night her mother made a deal with him to sell her to the beast.

Seven feet tall, pale skin, blood-red eyes, raven black hair, ten inches long horns on his forehead, long black bat wings that touched the ground, long pointy ears, slim and slender with no muscles, and with more sharp teeth than one can normally have. It was a vision of nightmares. And the fact that it was said that he drank human blood and killed them for then to proceed eating their meat raw, made it all more gruesome.

At the night of your 21st birthday, he will come to get you, will bring you to Hell, where he lives, then the monster will murder you, and them dine your meet with your blood.

How many times had she heard about that fate? How many times had she had nightmares with it? She couldn't tell. At this point, she had lost count of it.

She was tired of their whispers. About her orange-white hair, her small but pointy ears, her weird and siren lilac eyes, the strange power lurking her skin that never allowed her to be touched by her dad, or about her never-seen before Lilac Fire magic, that could both burn and freeze stuff.

Devil's sacrifice. Devil's child. Devilish girl. Witch. Evil wrench. Demonic offspring. Disgraceful Lady. Force of Hell sent to doom them all. They called her many names, and none of them were any of the six she was given.

And to make it worse, she was called a bastard, even though everyone here knew her mother, the deceased Royal Princess, was the Marquis first wife. But after he married her arrogant stepmother, Gwendolyn Brooks-Geneva, and had a couple of twins, three years younger than her, she was forgotten.

Donna never looked anything like her dad, but both her siblings were a copy of him, with his light-pink straight hair and his light blue eyes, as well as his pale skin. Where her face was full of freckles, theirs were fair and clean. And they were both taller than her as well, and she isn't even short, being 5'6 tall. She also took her mother's hourglass body shape, and she was sure that both Gwendolyn and her younger half-sister, Clarice-Ysabella, were envious of that.

She was never jealous of them. Furious? Definitely. All the damn time. Envious and jealous? Never. Because Donna loved the way she looked, even if she was constantly called weird and even ugly, she couldn't care less. She was in love with what she saw when she looked in the mirror, just as much as she loved her magic. Donna was aware that they only kept bullying her, because they feared how strong she could be.

Especially when she had inherited her father's super strength and had destroyed her chambers more than once in an explosion of fury. And that strength when combine with the dangerous light purple fire within her, was something to be scared off.

However, Donna still couldn't bring herself to ever forgive her dead mother for what she did to her. For forsaking her future like that. I was never even able to be held by my dad because of that damn deal she made. She would tell herself every time she got sad about it.

Liliane, her nanny, technically raised her all alone, since her father was never present, and her mother died before she could even talk. She had been sent by the Royal family, the only thing they did when they heard that her mother was pregnant of her, as if sending a Royal nanny would compensate for all their disdain towards her.

Donna also knew that the only reason why her dad still paid for her expenses, was because she'd Royal blood.

Everyone acted as if that was the only thing she had of value, being tied to the stupid Royal family. As if that had done any good for her. Well, at least she had Liliane and that was the only thing she had to thank the Royals for.

Not like any of that would be useful in the end. She was going to die in a week when the Devil would come to take her away. All the people she knew, looked at her with pity, even Liliane, knowing that she had a deadline and in a spam of a week, she would be as good as dead, and being eaten as dinner by a monster.

That is also the reason why she was given freedom. Her life was counted on the second she was born. 21 years to live. The least they could do to her was give her a little bit of freedom, even if it was a fake one. After all, she was never able to leave the Geneva territory as she so badly wanted to, but it was better than being locked up in a room all the damn time, like her sister did willingly.

Another thing she didn't like, but she was grateful in comparison with her sister, was their names. Both equally long, but Donna couldn't help but to compare them and to think that hers were better. Clarice-Ysabella Lisabel Maria Taynara Amelia Geneva, that was the name Gwendolyn gave to her daughter, and it was weird in Donna's point of view. Sounds too off and old for a kid like her, she thought.

Those were moments where she loved to be named the way she was. She knew it'd have been worse.

The woods were her favorite place in the Marquise, as she ran, her long and wild curly hair flew behind her, untamed like it's owner. She was always able to function better at night, sleeping through the day and starting her routine at 6 pm, ending them at 6 am, when she usually fell asleep. It was something they used to complain about before, but as time passed and she didn't change, they simply accepted that she was a night owl and not a daylight dove.

To her, it was natural. She didn't think too much of it in depth. Donna simply knew all of her senses worked better during nighttime, even her eyes felt like they're made to the dark, she could see everything perfectly in the dark, in a way no one else could.

Whatever. As they sleep and I awake, I have more time away from them, more freedom. She told herself every time her mind wonders around this, searching for a reason, for answer she didn't have. The night is mine. They have no idea of the beauty they are missing. I have no idea how they can function under the blinding sunlight either way.

As she reached the end of the woods that took her to the hill the confronted the closest village to the Marquis castle, she jumped, steadying herself with her fire magic, but carefully not to cause an arson in the woods… again. That happened more than five times when she couldn't control it yet, which was troublesome. A chaos of burned and frozen trees everywhere, in a clear trace that led straight to her, since no other human had such power. Making it impossible to hide and lie about it.

She had taken up two hours ago, so it was around 8 pm and the village was alive with the winter festivals that last the whole night for her delight. Normally a Lady such as herself, wouldn't be able to go out as she wished and at night like this, but given her deadline, she was allowed to do it, and thus, she didn't need to hide her identity as she visited the village.

Her long and wild curly orange to white hair was all it took for one to recognize her, plus her lilac eyes that were never seen in anyone before. But it was okay since all the villagers knew her better than her family did, if they could ever be called that. So, as she arrived from the top of the hill, with her black heelless boots, her black leather trousers, and her black corset on, carrying more than seven daggers with her, and her bow and arrows on her back, and that wild hair loose, all eyes fell on her.

Scared and wary. Pitiful and sad. Kind and friendly. The villagers were always in one of those categories when she came to them, which was quite understandable given everything.