Echoes of Tragedy

The room enveloped me in its pristine whiteness, a cocoon of light that seemed to cradle my fragile form. The air held a peculiar mix of sterility and warmth, like the embrace of a distant memory.

My eyes, still adjusting to the sudden illumination, could barely discern shapes. Shadows danced at the periphery, teasing me with glimpses of reality. And sound—oh, how limited it was! Muffled whispers and distant echoes reached my ears, like ripples in a tranquil pond.

Then, a touch, a gentle cradle of arms lifted me from the unknown surface. The hands were seasoned, their skin etched with countless stories. I nestled against the chest, feeling the rhythmic beat of a heart, a lifeline connecting me to the world beyond.

The warmth enveloped me, a soothing balm against the chill of existence. I imagined it as the same warmth that had cradled me in the womb, a memory etched into my very cells. It whispered promises of safety, of belonging.

And so, I closed my eyes. Not out of weariness, but out of surrender. The world was vast, and I was but a speck,a fledgling seeking solace. Darkness descended, and I reveled in its softness. There, cocooned in the warmth, I felt the universe cradle me.

Then, a voice ,a melody woven from stardust pierced the silence. "Her name will be Aurelia, Doctor," it declared. The syllables danced, painting a portrait of grace and strength. 

The female voice held conviction. "I'll look after her just fine." Assurance flowed from her lips, a vow whispered to the cosmos. 

And so, in that white room, amidst whispers and warmth, I drifted away.

 Three Years Later…

"Aurelia, stop running! You'll end up falling!" My mother's voice echoed through the hallway. I giggled, my bare feet padding across the cool tiles. Clutching a towel around me, I raced ahead, my laughter trailing behind like a comet's tail.

My mother, her eyes dancing with amusement, chased after me. She was my anchor, the one who laughed when I laughed, who held me when I stumbled. We reached the bedroom, and she scooped me up, her arms strong and comforting.

"What is my little Aurelia going to wear today?" she asked, setting me down on the bed. The wardrobe yawned open, revealing an array of clothes. Dresses hung alongside skirts, but my heart leaned elsewhere.

"I don't know why," I babbled, my toddler words tumbling out, "but I really don't like dresses and skirts. They're too… weird." I emphasized the word, as if it held the secret to my comfort.

My mother chuckled, pulling out a t-shirt adorned with tiny stars. "How about this?" she asked, holding it against me. The fabric was soft, and the stars seemed to wink at me. Next came a pair of trousers, equally cozy. It was like wearing pajamas all day, and I loved it.

As she dressed me, I caught sight of myself in the mirror. "Wow," I whispered, my eyes wide. My cheeks were rosy, and my black hair fell in unruly waves. Mum never quite figured out how to tame it, but I didn't mind. The stars on my clothes matched the red of my eyes , eyes I thought were beautiful.

And then there were my horns. Two delicate protrusions adorned my forehead ,one black, the other white. I shared this peculiar feature with my mother. Her eyes were crimson, and her own black horns curved gracefully. We were a pair, living happily in our modest city flat.

We might not have had much, but love and laughter filled our days.

The aroma of simmering soup filled the cozy kitchen, wrapping itself around me like a comforting embrace. My mother, with deft hands, stirred the pot, the wooden spoon clinking against the edges. The purée bubbled gently, chunks of ham peeking out like hidden treasures.

I sat on her child-sized chair, legs swinging impatiently. my stomach growled in anticipation, and I couldn't help but shout, "I'm hungry, Mum! When will it be ready?"

My mother chuckled, wiping her flour-dusted hands on her apron. "Patience, my little star," she said. "It's almost done."

I tapped the table with my fork, creating a rhythm that matched my heartbeat. The kitchen window framed a view of the garden vibrant flowers, dew-kissed grass, and the gnarled oak tree where I liked to imagine fairies danced at night.

Finally, my mother ladled the creamy purée into a bowl, the steam curling upward like a whispered secret. She placed it before me, who dug in with gusto. The ham melted on my tongue, and I closed my eyes, savoring the simple pleasure of a warm meal.

Just as I was about to take another spoonful, a sharp knock echoed through the house. My mother's eyes widened, and she glanced toward the door. "Stay here, Aurelia," she said, her voice firm. "I'm going to go see who it is."

I nodded, my curiosity piqued. Who would visit us during lunchtime? I watched as my mother crossed the kitchen, her footsteps echoing on the wooden floor. The door creaked open, revealing a stranger—a man with eyes like storm clouds and a cloak made of earth-toned leaves.

Before  my mom could close the door, the man raised his hand. The air shimmered, and the door exploded inward, splinters flying. I gasped, my bowl of purée forgotten. The man stepped inside, followed by three others, equally imposing.

They weren't ordinary men. Their eyes glowed with an otherworldly fire, and their skin bore intricate patterns, as if etched by ancient magic. Demons, I realized, my heart racing.

My mother's face paled, but she stood her ground. "What do you want?" she demanded, her voice steady.

The lead demon sneered. "We seek the girl," he said, pointing at me "The one with the black-and-white horns. She possesses a rare power—one that could tip the balance."

I clutched my fork, fear and confusion swirling within me. What did they mean? I was just a little girl who loved starry t-shirts and cozy meals.

My mother stepped between them, shielding me. "You won't touch her," she said, her eyes blazing crimson. "She's mine."

The demons laughed, a sound like distant thunder. "Your love won't save her," the lead demon said. "We'll take her, willingly or not."

But my mother had other plans. She whispered a word a name her voice woven with ancient magic. The ground trembled, and vines burst forth, wrapping around the demons' legs. They struggled, but the earth held them fast.

"Run, Aurelia!" her mother shouted. "Find safety!"

Tears blurred my vision as I fled, my little legs carrying me toward the garden. Behind me, my mother fought, her magic colliding with the demons' fury.

As I watched from the safety of the dense foliage, my heart pounded like a drum against my chest. The scene unfolding before me was both mesmerizing and terrifying. My mother stood tall and defiant, a beacon of strength against the encroaching darkness of the demons. Their presence was palpable, their malevolent energy sending shivers down my spine.

I could hear the whispered incantations of my mother as she bravely faced the lead demon, her voice tinged with both fear and determination. Her magic crackled in the air, intertwining with the swirling vines that erupted from the earth in a desperate attempt to shield us from harm.

But then, in a flash of silver, tragedy struck. One of the demons lunged forward, his sword slicing through the air with deadly precision. I watched in horror as the blade found its mark, piercing my mother's chest with a sickening thud. Time seemed to slow as her body crumbled to ash before my eyes, leaving behind nothing but a haunting echo of her presence.

" Mom." I whispered.

Tears blurred my vision as I turned to flee, the demon's mocking laughter echoing in my ears like a sinister symphony. I ran as fast as my legs would carry me, the sound of my own heartbeat drowning out all other noise.

But the demon was relentless, his shadow looming ever closer with each frantic step I took. Panic clawed at my chest as I reached the edge of a cliff, the sheer drop below a terrifying reminder of my own mortality.

I glanced back, desperation fueling my every movement. The demon mirrored my every step, his eyes gleaming with malicious intent. With nowhere left to run, I took a hesitant step backward, my foot slipping on loose gravel.

The demon advanced, his cruel smile sending a shiver down my spine. I stumbled, my back pressed against the unforgiving edge of the cliff. The world spun around me as I fought to maintain my balance, the abyss below yawning hungrily.

"Please," I whispered, my voice barely audible above the howling wind. "Please go away."

But the demon only laughed, his laughter a cruel melody that echoed in the empty space between us. With a final move from me the world disappearing in a blur of motion and sound.

The impact stole the breath from my lungs, pain blossoming like a flower in my chest. I lay there, broken and battered, my world reduced to darkness and agony.

And as consciousness slipped away, the last thing I felt was the sharp crack of one of my horn, snapping like a twig beneath the weight of my despair.