Who Are You?
Five years later*
The morning sun had barely risen when Sevastian woke to the familiar sound of his mother shouting. Her sharp voice cut through the thin walls of their cottage like a blade, dragging him from the restless slumber he had managed to get. His back ached from sleeping on the hard floor—his mattress had been sold long ago to pay off one of Rosanna's countless debts.
"Get up, V!" Rosanna's voice carried an edge that promised consequences if he did not hurry. "You think food's going to walk in here on its own?"
Sevastian groaned quietly, rubbing his eyes as he pulled himself upright. His body was sore from the previous day's work, but there was no time to rest. Rest, after all, was a luxury he could not afford. He threw on his worn-out boots and stepped outside into the cool morning air.
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