The room was plunged into a heavy, almost tangible darkness. Every fiber of my body tensed as my eyes struggled to make out the shapes around me. The leather of the chair I was tied to pressed cold and rigid against my back, and the wooden frame creaked faintly under my weight. The air was thick, heavy with a metallic scent and a strange, acrid odor, as if something nearby had burned. My hands, bound tightly with thick ropes, tingled, and every movement pressed painfully against my wrists, a cruel reminder of my helplessness.
My senses stretched to the extreme. I could feel the slightest breath, the faintest vibration. The stone floor beneath my feet was uneven, cold, and damp. Somewhere in the distance, a faint noise echoed, but I could not tell where it came from. I slowly turned my head, trying to make sense of the space around me. The furniture was scattered chaotically: a toppled armchair, a massive table cluttered with shining objects, and books strewn about as if a storm had passed. But what immediately drew my gaze was my family.
My sister sat a few feet away, her wrists bound tightly, her pale face frozen. She did not move, and her wide eyes reflected a mixture of disbelief and terror. My brother was similarly trapped. His normally confident and lively features were tight, his jaw clenched, his eyes locked on me with total incomprehension. My mother, tied to another chair, tried to scream, but no sound emerged from her throat; her hands trembled, and silent tears streamed down her cheeks. The silence was deafening. Not a single sound came from the ropes, from movement, from breathing. Everything seemed suspended.
I lowered my head slightly and my eyes met a dark puddle on the floor. My heart skipped a beat. The thick, red liquid spread beneath my feet, and my breath caught in my throat. I slowly lifted my eyes and saw my father lying on the ground, motionless. The deep red of the blood streaming from him contrasted violently with the pallor of his face. His body rested in a position that sent shivers down my spine. I had no words. My mind refused to accept the reality. Memories of his voice, his advice, his reassuring presence, assailed me. My knees felt weak, but the ropes held me upright, forcing me to stay seated, powerless.
I turned my head slightly and noticed that my brother and sister had also seen the body at the same moment. Their eyes reflected the same inner chaos, the same utter despair. My sister sobbed silently, unable to utter a sound. My brother tried to breathe deeply, but each breath seemed laborious. Emotions collided: horror, rage, despair, disbelief.
Around us, the hooded assailants moved or remained still, their threatening silhouettes illuminated by the flickering light of the lamps. They spoke to one another in a guttural, foreign language, incomprehensible, yet every tone, every inflection radiated a clear intention: danger was absolute, relentless. I could barely make out their features beneath the hoods, but the posture of each spoke volumes about their power. One was massive, broad-shouldered, imposing in stature. Another was thin and agile, movements calculated and swift, ready to strike. The last, medium in height but muscular, exuded quiet, concentrated strength. Their presence filled the room with palpable tension, as if the very air itself carried their menace.
I searched for a solution in my mind. The ropes, the positions of the assailants, the layout of the room… everything seemed to conspire against me. I tried to move my hands, to test the knots, but they resisted every effort. Each failed attempt left a bitter taste of helplessness. I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to breathe, to calm the flood of panic rising within me. But there was no escaping reality.
I thought of my father, his reassuring presence, the life I had known until now. Everything collapsed in an instant. Anger rose within me, raw and uncontrollable. I wanted to scream, yet no sound came. The assailants continued their movements, their strange, incomprehensible words echoing in my mind like a direct threat. Fear and chaos merged with a silent, simmering rage.
I then tried to give a subtle signal to my brother, showing that we needed to remain calm, observe, and find an opportunity. Our eyes met, and I saw that he understood, despite the paralysis of fear. His breathing was rapid, his gaze full of questions and worry. Together, we analyzed the movements of the assailants, every gesture, every shift in posture potentially a clue to weakness.
Every passing minute felt like an eternity. I noticed details I hadn't seen before: the rustle of their clothing, the tension in their muscles, the way one of them pressed slightly on the floor with his feet. These signs became crucial for anticipating their actions. My mind was focused, hyper-alert. I knew that every movement, every decision could be vital.
I closed my eyes briefly, trying to steady my breathing, to think. Emotions ran high: the despair of seeing my father dead, the terror in my mother and sister, the incomprehension in my brother. All of it created a chaotic whirlwind in my mind, yet a part of me remained lucid, aware that survival depended on every second, on every action we could take.
The hooded assailants' gaze slowly shifted toward us, as if sensing our state of mind. Their aura was oppressive, saturated with an almost tangible malice. Every breath became heavier, every movement more burdensome. I felt the tension in my muscles, ready to spring into action the moment an opportunity arose.
The scene was etched into my memory: the ropes that bound me, the blood on the floor, my father's body, the frozen expressions of my family, the hooded figures and their strange movements. Everything converged toward a central point of absolute danger, and each breath reminded me of our helplessness and the gravity of the situation.
The rope burned my wrists with every movement, but I refused to stay still. My eyes scanned the room, every detail a potential opportunity. The assailants seemed focused on my family, speaking in that foreign, incomprehensible language. I gritted my teeth and tried to move my hands more efficiently, seeking an angle to undo the binds. Every gesture reminded me of the urgency of the situation.
I summoned my magic, concentrating energy in my fingers. A faint, almost imperceptible glow appeared, only to vanish immediately. Nothing worked. Frustration gnawed at me. Why hadn't I been more diligent? Why had I wasted time on other things? I should have trained harder, mastered my magic better, been ready for anything. I should have listened to my father, not let myself get distracted, not let Zack pull me away from what truly mattered. Regret hit me full force, sharp and merciless.
My eyes shifted to my father, lying motionless on the floor. The sight twisted my stomach. Every memory of him surged through me: moments of tenderness, guidance, pride. I remembered his smile, his voice, his reassuring gestures. Everything felt lost. A mixture of anger, despair, and guilt flooded me. If only I had been stronger… if only I had known…
I cast a glance at my mother, still trembling, silently crying. Anxiety, fear—all converged into a searing point in my chest. I had to act. I had to find a way. Magic still refused to respond, but I refused to give up. I tried another technique, another channel. Nothing. The energy dissipated, leaving me with the bitter taste of my own inadequacy.
Time seemed to stretch endlessly. With every passing second, I felt my strength waning, yet my determination growing. I thought of Elkior, my sister, my mother. They were counting on me, even amidst this absolute chaos. I had to push beyond my limits. I clenched my fists, eyes burning with rage and resolve.
Then, one of the men moved suddenly. His gestures drew my attention. His face remained hidden beneath his hood, but a menacing aura emanated from him. I fixed my gaze on him, dark and threatening, ready to defend my family at all costs. Sensing my attention, he turned toward me. In a brutal, unexpected motion, he struck me violently. The slap sent me sprawling backward in the chair, breath knocked out of me, my head ablaze with pain.
I wavered but refused to collapse. My vision blurred as I saw him draw a knife. The metal glimmered faintly under the flickering light. He advanced toward my mother, and a shiver ran down my spine. My heart froze for an instant. Then, with a sharp, brutal motion, he slashed her throat. The silent scream that could not escape her mouth reverberated in my mind. The scene, unreal, seemed frozen in time. Chaos, pain, and horror assaulted me all at once.
My knees buckled, but I gritted my teeth. Fear consumed me, but it mingled with a smoldering, silent rage, ready to erupt. Around me, a tableau of devastation unfolded: my father dead, my mother grievously wounded, my siblings paralyzed by terror. The hooded men continued their strange movements, but something seemed to unsettle them—a slight falter in their stance.
I scanned the room, searching for a chance, a flaw, something that could let me free my siblings. Every detail mattered: the space between the ropes, the positioning of the assailants' feet, the furniture. I had to act quickly, think fast, and summon the strength I had long neglected.
Rage, despair, regret, and fear fused into a single, burning energy. My magic still refused to fully obey, yet instinct guided me. Every breath was a struggle, every movement a precise calculation. The insufficient hours of training, the poor choices, all hit me once again. Yet, this chaotic energy became my only weapon, my sole lifeline, to survive without collapsing, to endure without surrendering.
I immediately noticed a subtle but decisive change. The assailants, previously motionless and imposing, began to waver. The tallest leaned against the back of a chair just to stay upright, the thin one bent over a table as if maintaining his posture required immense effort, and the third, medium-sized but broad, trembled slightly on his legs. Nothing explained this sudden weakness, but I could feel that this was our opportunity.
I shot a quick glance at Elkior, locking eyes with him. His gaze met mine, and I sent a single message: stay calm, think. Urgency must not rush our actions. He understood immediately. His breathing steadied, and I saw a spark of an idea cross his eyes. He closed them briefly, gathered his concentration, and his hands moved with precision. A faint glow sparked from his fingers: a simple but effective spell that untied his bonds. The next moment, he was completely free, and a sigh of relief seemed to sweep through the room.
Without a second to lose, Elkior turned to our sister, Ali. She was still paralyzed by fear, unable to move a muscle. Her eyes were vacant, her hands motionless. A knot of tension tightened in my stomach, but Elkior acted quickly. Magic unfurled over the ropes binding her, and slowly, Ali collapsed to the floor, still in shock, but free. I rushed to her, trying to support her, to reassure her with a hand gesture. Her breathing was short and ragged, and I could feel she was far from regaining her strength.
I took a deep breath and shot a determined look at Elkior. "Get out with them," I told him silently, pointing toward the hallway and the exit. He nodded, understanding the message. His hands began to channel protective and offensive spells, despite their obvious weakness. Each burst of magic seemed to slow or destabilize the assailants slightly, but it was far from enough to defeat them. His face was strained with effort, and I could see fatigue settling into his features.
I then tried to take Ali with me. She resisted, her body refusing to move. Her legs remained stiff, and her still-bleary eyes silently pleaded with me. I shook her gently, then more firmly. Nothing. She was completely immobile, unable to respond to the urgency. Despair gripped me for a moment, but I had to stay lucid. Elkior, focused on the assailants, turned to me, his gaze intense and urgent: "Run, get out, get help, save yourself!"
I cast one last glance at Ali. My chest tightened. Her eyes were fixed, but I read in her expression that she wanted to rise, but could not. "I want to stay and fight them—we can't," I murmured silently to myself, unable to resign. But I knew staying would mean the end for all of us. I turned on my heel and bolted out of the house.
The run was frantic, my legs burning with every stride. I raced across the street, my heart hammering, without pause. Fifty meters later, I finally looked back. The scene before me exceeded anything I had ever witnessed: an explosion of colors and light, like a magic I had never seen before. My brother, hurled out of the house by Elkior's power, landed heavily on the ground, covered in blood but still alive. My breath caught at the sight, terror and anguish intertwining with determination.
I straightened, thinking about the next step. Who could help me? My mind ran through every option: the deputy mayor, the school principal, Zach, my best friend. All possible allies, all far away, but I had to act quickly. My brain raced, calculating risks, distances, and safety.
And then, a flash froze me. One of the three men, no longer hooded, appeared in front of me at an astonishing speed, almost impossible to track with the naked eye. His frame was massive, his body tense and muscular, every detail of his face striking. He was bald, one eye missing, replaced by an empty socket; his nose twisted, his features marked by violence and cruelty. The scar cutting across his face seemed to tell of decades of malice and combat. A sly, almost sadistic smile stretched across his lips, and I immediately felt the hatred and danger radiating from him.
His voice rang out, cold and merciless: "Your life ends here."
Before I could react, a blinding white flash consumed my vision. Everything became light. The world around me vanished.