I was standing in the old stone bathroom, the cold tiles beneath my bare feet leeching the warmth from my body. I couldn't tear my gaze from the mirror that showed a face almost beyond recognition—bruises on my cheeks, on my arms, all over my body. My face was swollen, my lips split.
My fingers brushed the violet patch on my cheek, yet the pain I expected never came. I felt nothing. So he'd finally managed it—broken my body so thoroughly that even the pain that had kept me alive had abandoned me? How would I know when I was on the verge of death now?
How much longer? How long can I endure this?
Father had forced me, a few days ago, to try summoning my wings again. He stood beside me with a cold, uncompromising face, showing not a hint of mercy, though he saw how desperately I tried to obey. With every fibre of my being I wanted them to appear so I could fly to freedom. It was useless. The wings that should have been mine never surfaced—not even a trace.
In his eyes, I saw a rising fury that was unbearable. I knew very well what would come next.
A memory flashed: that helplessness when he seized my arm and yanked me up.
Together we took off. Wind roared in my ears, and before I could even beg, his hands let go and I fell. In that fall, there was everything—fear, powerlessness, despair. Then came the impact. Pain beyond words punched the breath from my lungs, making me believe for a moment that I'd crossed into the next world.
In that instant I wished I'd landed on my head and shattered my skull.
But he was careful. He knew exactly from what height to drop me so it wouldn't kill me, and he let me fall again and again.
I tore my gaze from the mirror.
I turned on the tap and splashed icy water over my face.
The bathroom door opened softly behind me.
I heard a muted sound and saw Jelissa in the mirror's reflection. She came to me without a word, her eyes falling to the bruises on my ribs. She touched them lightly. I expected pain, but again it was absent—a frozen emptiness inside me.
"We have to escape," I said quietly, almost in a whisper, as though speaking to the void. Jelissa nodded, and I added, "But first I'm going to try something."
She blinked. "Try what?"
In the mirror I met her fearful gaze. I knew my next words would frighten her even more, yet I was resolute. "Kill him."
Her hands slipped from my shoulder and she stepped back as if my words were poison. "That's a very bad idea," she murmured.
I turned to face her. "He'll never stop hunting us. If I have to die, I'll at least try. You know I'm not the one who's getting out of here—you, Oswin, and Ewordie are."
"Losiela!" she scolded.
But it was true. I'd never say such a thing to Oswin or our brother, yet with Jelissa I didn't need to lie. Even if I crossed Father's lands and slipped through his shield, I couldn't call my wings. Days of slogging through the Silent Forest, filled with beasts that would tear me apart awaited. My chances of survival were zero.
There was no point in trying. The only thing I could do was buy them time.
"Not for one second can you hesitate. Oswin and Ewordie will depend on you. I'm ready, Jeliss," I said firmly.
I watched her pupils widen. Jelissa had always been the one to shield me, to talk me out of danger, yet now she saw I was determined.
"Everything will be all right," I assured her.
She clenched her fists, searching for words to stop me. None came.
* * *
It was one of those nights when the sky sank into absolute darkness and not a single star shone.
I stood hidden in the shadow of an old tree, watching the mist drift above the road, waiting for his return. My hands trembled slightly, though not from fear. The shaking was driven by anticipation. Adrenaline coursed through my veins like poison, keeping me alert, sharpening my senses, preparing me for what was to come. The dagger in my hand felt unnaturally cold.
Tonight I had to kill him. Only then would my siblings gain the freedom they craved.
And then her… Mother. She might not even realise when I ended her suffering. She was a wraith without a soul, a shadow that had not belonged to this world for a long time. She wouldn't mind if I carried her across and granted her peace.
Don't hesitate, Losiela!
I knew that if I failed, I'd never get another chance. Father was always cautious—a tyrant, yet intelligent and farsighted. He guarded himself with powerful shields and punished every attempt on him brutally.
But tonight I hoped his vigilance would falter. It was his birthday. As every year, he was celebrating with friends long into the night.
I prayed silently that he'd come home as drunk as ever.
Don't hesitate, Losiela!
Even if it was the last thing I did on this earth, I would drag him to the grave with me.
Patricide—the gravest crime, one that could never be atoned for. In the eyes of the gods it was unforgivable. I knew no heavenly judgment awaited me. My soul would be torn apart and lost forever.
Yet after all the years of torment, after every "experiment" he had subjected me to, only one option remained.
Memories struck like lightning—sharp and unavoidable. I kept replaying the darkest moments of my childhood. Most of all, the first day I failed to summon my wings. I was a small girl, unaware of the world's horrors. I believed parents were there to protect me. No miracle came. No one stopped him. My tears meant nothing.
As his only child without wings, I was a disappointment. He struck without mercy. I was only seven when he seized my legs and, without hesitation, broke them.
"If you can't walk, maybe you'll stop being lazy and finally summon your wings," he'd said.
He, the perfect angel, scientist, pioneer of forbidden arts, a high member of Terravorn, could not have a defective daughter. He was convinced he had to "repair" me.
For ten more years he tried to fix me.
Years of pain changed me. From lethargy grew a hunger for revenge. Life inside me died, but the need to make sure he never hurt anyone else the way he'd hurt me remained.
Don't hesitate, Losiela!
And then I saw him, emerging from the mist.
My heart pounded, but I forced myself to stay calm.
No need to hurry—he would walk right up to me.
"What are you doing here?" he called. He stopped, pulled a cigar from his pocket, and lit it with magic. He didn't even bother to look at me. He knew exactly which tree I was leaning against. I couldn't hide from him even in the darkest corners.
"I was waiting for you," I answered softly but firmly, outwardly unshaken. "Don't you think it's time you died?"
He turned toward me; his eyes gleamed in the darkness—cold, indifferent, as though I were no more than an irritating insect. He didn't see an opponent in me.
"Thinking of independence, are we? What would you do without Daddy, Losiela?" he laughed falsely.
Don't hesitate, Losiela!
Without another word I plunged into his mind, exactly as I'd practised with Jeliss.
I was surrounded by his thoughts and memories.
It wasn't like sword fighting, where blows can be counted and parried. This was subtler and all the more terrifying. Inside his mind, I hit a void that began swallowing me at once. A powerful shield almost expelled me from his subconscious. I clung with tooth and nail to the last filament that kept me anchored in him, fighting for dominance. My consciousness pressed against his.
Then everything shifted. His vile awareness closed around me. Without realising it, we were no longer in his mind but in mine. He was everywhere, hurling memories before my eyes—moments he'd never been in, but now he inserted himself, altering my past, forcing me to believe he was there when I drew my first decent picture, or in other cherished moments of my life.
I pressed back against his mind again, pouring almost all my spiritual strength into it. It was more an explosion of rage than a calculated strike. I knew I'd made a mistake, yet I didn't stop.
I pushed deeper into his mind, into the darkest corners of his being, searching for the core of his subconscious. If I found it, I could control him, force him to do what I wanted—slice his own throat.
And then I found it.
Looking for me, Losiela? he asked inside my mind, laughing, his voice seeping into every corner of my being.
Would he feel no fear even at the last moment?
I had him—he was at my mercy, and I had none. I screamed with all my might: Take the dagger and cut your throat!
Startled, I flinched. Why hadn't I heard my own voice? I screamed again: Cut your throat!
Nothing. Silence. Then, again, his laughter.
I had him under control, ruling his subconscious… why couldn't I command him?
A brutal force hurled me away.
His subconscious slammed into mine with an intensity I'd never felt. Falling from heights? That was nothing compared to this raw, unstoppable energy that crushed me.
My mind was being torn to pieces.
You thought you could defeat me? His voice invaded my awareness.
I couldn't answer. I could only listen.
Did you know my brother trained to become a Mind Master? Mother was so proud! Well… she was, until I surpassed his skills through self‑study and made him drown himself in the family pool. Shame there's no water left in it now!
His laughter echoed all around me.
You're strong, Losiela. With much training you might become a master. But for now… you're just a broken child.
The only broken one here is you! I whispered inwardly, but I couldn't speak aloud.
His laughter went on.
You truly thought you could beat me? he repeated, this time quietly, almost a whisper. The amusement vanished from his voice; only cold hatred remained.
He wasn't playing anymore. He understood fully now that, clumsy as it was, I had tried to kill him. You're nothing but a weak, damaged angel who has no place in this world. Certainly not in my family, and yet I allowed you to live off me for so long.
All the hope I'd clung to evaporated like morning mist. Ice‑cold despair clenched my heart. For years, I'd prepared by training with Jeliss and convincing myself I could destroy him.
Don't think I'll let you die easily. Truth is, I've long studied mental decay and haven't yet found anyone to test it on. I'm delighted you've volunteered, Losie.
In that moment, I felt him release me. My spirit slammed back into my body with such force that I staggered and fell to my knees.
The dagger slipped from my fingers, clanging against the hard ground. I was broken.
Father stepped toward me, stopped, and bent down.
"Get up, Losiela. You should sleep. It's late. Rest in peace, my daughter. A pity you never understood I only wanted what was best for you."
He stooped, picked up my dagger, straightened, and slowly walked toward the house. He left me lying on the cold ground, never looking back.
I was supposed to be dead. I'd counted on that. Why was I still breathing?
Slowly, I hauled myself to my feet. Every muscle screamed, but I moved. I lifted my head and looked at his window, where candles had just flared to life.
"One day I'll kill you," I whispered.