The clouds drifted lazily across the sky, staining the horizon with streaks of orange and purple. Beneath the tranquil beauty lay a blood-soaked shore. Lifeless, armoured bodies bobbed in the tide, dragged back and forth by the sea's restless pull. The water — once a clear, familiar blue — had turned a murky, unnatural red. Fragments of armour floated aimlessly, carried further out as the current claimed them.
A thick, metallic stench of blood poisoned the air, mingling with the dying screams of men. Hooves thundered against the wet sand as horses charged past, bearing armoured riders clutching knives and swords. Steel met steel in brutal clashes, the sounds echoing until they slowly dissolved into the distance.
Beyond the cries of battle stood a forest — silent. Its towering trees loomed, their shadows heavy, as though guarding whispered secrets.
THUD. THUD.
Hurried footsteps shattered the stillness. Ragged breaths followed. A woman's piercing blue eyes darted wildly through the trees, her grip tightening around the sleeping infant bundled against her chest. Sweat traced a path down her face as her body trembled with panic.
Her gaze flicked away from the child and swept the forest once more. Relief flashed through her eyes when she spotted an abandoned hut ahead.
She ran.
As she drew closer, her pace slowed. She peered through the damaged windows, straining to see inside. Nothing — only darkness.
"Hello?" she whispered, her voice barely stirring the air.
No answer.
She pushed open the giant oak door and slipped inside. Darkness swallowed her whole.
She did not panic. Murmuring softly beneath her breath, she summoned a faint glow. A luminous orange light bloomed in her palm, forcing the shadows back. The room emerged — bare walls, no furniture — then the woman herself.
The light caught her ebony skin, giving it a warm, otherworldly sheen. Her red hair hung in tatters around her face, her dress torn and stained with blood. Exhaustion weighed heavily on her features, yet her unsettling blue eyes remained alert as they searched the room.
They froze.
At the far end stood a crib.
Step by careful step, she approached, the wooden floor creaking softly beneath her feet. The glow did not quite reach the crib, leaving it half-drowned in silence.
She swallowed and moved closer.
Holding the infant close with one arm, she stretched the other above it, eyes closed, moving slowly, as though she could sense danger rather than see it. After a moment, she drew her hand back and opened her eyes, a weary breath slipping from her lips as she gently laid the sleeping baby down. Her vision blurred as she lingered, fingertips brushing softly over the infant's cheek.
Her lips parted, dry and trembling, yet no sound came. Unease flickered in her gaze, as if speaking aloud might summon the very thing she feared. She exhaled again, long and steady, before forcing hereslf to whisper.
"My dead, dear Dydra. Mama will send you somewhere safe.... a place where no one will hurt you."
Tears pooled in her eyes as she paused, her voice faltering. "A safe.... safe place. Though it's safe, Mama cannot be there with you." Her fingers slid from the infant's cheek to the back of her own neck as she unhooked the heart-shaped locket resting against her skin and pressed it gently into the baby's tiny fists, curling the small fingers around it.
"Take this, my dear," she murmured softly. "It would protect you from any kind of danger." Pulling her hand away, she wiped the tears from her face with the heel of her palm before leaning down to press a tender kiss to the baby's cheek. The infant cooed faintly, drawing a small, fragile smile from her lips.
The moment shattered as the hut's door burst open under a violent kick. Her body jolted, fear etching itself across her face as her gaze locked onto the massive figure filing the doorway, deep red eyes burning in the dark towering horns rising from it's shoulders as it stared at her without blinking. Her entire body vibrated as she tore her gaze away from the creature and turned back to her sleeping infant, tears flooding her eyes as she took one last look, her lips moving in a breathless murmur.
The air twisted violently, wrapping as a black wood bloomed open, swallowing the crib — and the baby within it — into absolute darkness before snapping shut. Relief flickered across her face at the sight, fragile and fleeting, barely lasting a heartbeat before something vicious tore into her back. Her blue eyes flew wide as blood spilled slowly from her lips, her body going rigid as the pain dug deeper, merciless, stealing the strength from her limbs. Tears welled as she closed her eyes, as unspoken acceptance settling over her.
With a break yank, her heart was ripped from her chest, and she collapsed to the floor, blood spreading rapidly across the wooden boards as silence reclaimed the room. A massive claw held her heart aloft, blood dripping steadily from it as the familiar orange glow that once pushed back the darkness in the hut finally vanished, leaving the space submerged once more in complete gloom. Yet within that darkness, the figure's red eyes burned vividly. A low snarl slipped from its lips as it whispered.
"Dydra."
Miles away from the hut, deep within an entirely different forest, a baby's crib suddenly emerged into view. A cool breeze swept through the clearing, and the infant inside began to cry, it's small body trembling as it struggled against the cloth wrapped tightly around it. The sound shattered the stillness sending birds in the nearby trees fluttering away in alarm.
Not far from the crib stood a bit, it's structure carefully concealed among the thick green trees, blending so seamlessly with the forest that it seemed part of it. Moments later, an old woman's voice rang out from within.
"Agatha, dear. Come back." The hut's door burst open as a strikingly beautiful woman stepped outside, draped in expensive clothing that looked painfully out of place in the forest. Her brows were drawn together, lips twitching with clear annoyance as her gaze swept the clearing.
"Mother, I am truly tired of your insistence on living in this... this place," she said, her tone sharp with frustration. "When there is a mansion, waiting for you, filled with spacious rooms and countless servants ready to attend to your every need."
An elderly woman emerged after her, both hands resting firmly on the cane that supported her weight as she followed her daughter outside. "Honey, I like it here," she said softly, her voice calm and unyielding.
The response earned a scoff. Agatha was already turning away, when she paused mid-step and turned back, disbelief etched across her face. "My word! How can you say that?" she demanded, gesturing toward the hut with open distain. "You truly prefer this — to a proper place where you would be treated like a queen? Mother!" Agatha snapped, planting her hands firmly on her hips.
The old woman smiled faintly and opened her mouth to respond but the words never came. Her expression shifted as her ears caught the distant Sunday of a baby's cry. A frown creased her face as she slowly turned, scanning the surroundings. Agatha heard it too, her irritation faltering as she followed the sound, her gaze sharpening with curiosity.
Together, they traced the cry through the trees until a lone crib came into view.
"Bizzare," Agatha muttered as she moved toward it. With every step closer, the infant's cries grew louder, more desperate, and when she finally saw the babay inside, a soft gasp slipped from her lips.
"Bizzare," she repeated, this time under her breath. Without hesitation, she lifted the child into her arms, worry replacing her earlier annoyance as she cradled the small body against her chest. Her eyes swept the forest, searching for any sign of another presence — any clue that might explain why an infant had been left alone in the depths of the woods.
Her gaze caught on the locket clenched in the infant's tiny fists. Curious, she gently pried it loose.
"Wow... " The word slipped out before she could stop herself.
The metal was cool beneath her fingers as she traced it's surface, a faint sense of unease creeping in. Her brows knit together when she noticed an inscription etched into it.
"D..... Dydra," she read aloud, the name foreign on her tongue. She frowned, searching her memory, but the word meant nothing to her. She had never heard it before.
Before she could ponder further, her mother stepped in sharply and snatched the locker from her hand.
The suddenness of the action made her flinch.
"What is it, Mother?" she asked, confusion lacing her voice.
The old woman stared at the locket as though it had burned her. Shock drained the colour from her face, her fingers trembling slightly as disbelief flickered in her eyes.
"Where did you get this?" she demanded.
"From the bizzare baby, Mother," Agatha replied honestly.
Slowly, the old woman lifted her gaze from the locket to the child. Her eyes narrowed, icy blue and piercing, as if trying to see through flesh and bone — into something far deeper.
Something that should not exist.
As she studied the baby more closely, an inexplicable unease coiled in her chest, tightening with every heartbeat. Her fingers curled around the locket as recognition settled over her like a silent weight, and when she finally spoke, her voice trembled despite her attempt to keep it steady.
"Dydra... "