VALKIRA
I ran and didn't look back, my heart racing so fast, and my legs weak, but I kept running. I just needed to get home. I was confused, afraid, lost. I couldn't understand what just happened.
How could I heal Prince Zeroth like that? How could I make Nyxara slam her head on the wall seven times like some puppet? How is that even possible?
The door to our house creaked when I pushed it open. My mother turned and froze, her eyes wide. She looked both confused and surprised to see me standing there, tears all over my face. "Valkira? Aren't you supposed to be in the palace right now? Why are you crying? Why do you look so… disoriented?" she asked, rushing toward me.
The words burst out of me before I could stop them. I told her everything. I told her how I had healed Prince Zeroth without knowing how, and how I commanded Nyxara to hit her head on the wall seven times, and how she obeyed me like she had no mind of her own.
The look on my mother's face changed. Not surprise, not confusion, but fear. She held my hand tightly and told me everything would be alright, her voice trembling. She pulled me to the bed and sat me down beside her.
I stared at her. She was not shocked like someone hearing something strange for the first time. She looked like someone who already knew this was coming. I wiped my tears with the back of my hand and asked her straight, "Do you know what is wrong with me?"
She shook her head quickly and forced a smile. "Everything will be okay, my child. Don't worry. You are safe now." But her eyes betrayed her. They were scared. She kept assuring me, repeating the same words, like maybe if she said them enough, I would believe them and stop asking.
The door opened again. My father walked in, smelling of dust and sweat, like he had just come back from packing firewoods. He stopped when he saw me sitting there, my face wet with tears, my mother's arms wrapped around me.
He looked at us carefully, his brows pulling together. "What happened? Why are you crying, Valkira?" he asked, walking closer.
I told him the same thing I told my mother. I told him about the prince, about Nyxara, about my fear. His face changed too, almost the same way my mother's had. He didn't look surprised. He looked… troubled. Like my words were reminding him of something.
That was when I knew something was off. They both knew. They were hiding something from me. My chest burned with anger and confusion. "If you know what's wrong with me, tell me!" I shouted.
My mother shook her head, her hands tightening around mine. "No, Valkira. You don't need to worry. Everything is okay." Her words felt like a lie.
But my father didn't agree with her. He looked at her, then at me, then back at her again. His jaw clenched. His voice was low, almost like a whisper, but I still heard it clear. "It is time to tell her the truth."
I froze. My body went cold. "What truth?" I asked, my voice rising. I turned to my mother. She shook her head quickly, disagreeing, her lips pressed tight like she wanted to stop him.
"I don't think it is right to tell her this, Kaldo," my mother said to my father, her voice shaking, her hands clutching her dress like she wanted to hold everything together.
My father shook his head. "Stop this, Isalith. Her powers are manifesting. It is high time she know the truth. It is high time she know that we are not her real parents."
The words hit me like a knife to my chest.
"W-what?" I stammered, barely able to speak, my lips trembling.
"It is the truth, Valkira. We are not your biological parents," my father said. His voice was steady but I could see the storm in his eyes.
I turned to my mother, desperate, begging her with my eyes. She was already crying, her tears falling down her cheeks. That was my answer already. Her face confirmed it, but it wasn't enough. I needed her to say it. I needed to hear the words from her mouth.
"Mother… speak," I whispered, my voice broken. "Is what Father is saying the truth? That you are not my mother? That he is not my father?"
She shook her head quickly, reaching for me. "No, no, no. We are always going to be your parents, Valkira. You are always going to be our little girl," she cried, her voice choking.
"No, Mother, that is not what I asked!" I shouted, my emotions breaking out of me. My tears were hot and endless.
Her shoulders slumped. She dropped her gaze. "Twenty years ago," she whispered, "I found you as a newborn baby in the arms of a dead girl."
My breath came shallow, and painful. A newborn… in the arms of a dead girl? That was me? My head spun, and my body shook.
"Now that you have grown up to this age," my mother continued, her eyes red and swollen, "you look exactly like the dead girl. It has been so hard for me to keep this secret from you… just because of how much you look like her."
"No," I whispered, shaking my head, my tears falling harder. "No… no…" My chest hurt like someone had carved it open.
"It was close to the riverbank," she said, her voice soft, filled with memory and pain. "She looked like she died violently… like she died protecting you."
"Stop it!" I cried, cutting her off, my tears blinded me, and my whole body trembling. I didn't want to hear more.
"And you should know," my father began, "you should know that the reason why you suddenly feel like you are having powers to heal… and to control others… is because your mother practiced dark magic."
His words froze me. Dark magic. The word alone sent shivers down my spine. My mind couldn't grasp it.
Dark magic? My real mother? How? Why? In this era, dark magic was an abomination. People were hunted, burned alive, cursed, erased from history for it. Whole families destroyed just for being suspected. How could a mother practice such a thing? And worse… how could that be my blood?
I shook my head, clutching at my chest, trying to breathe. "No… it cannot be… no… she cannot…"
My mind screamed. If she had practiced such a thing, then what did that make me? Was I cursed? Was I doomed to fall into the same darkness? My whole life I had feared those stories, those warnings about magic that corrupted the soul, and now they were saying it was inside me.
And another question twisted in my chest, burning me alive. How did they even know? How could Father and Mother claim this? My mother said she found me when the girl... my supposed mother was already dead. They never knew her, they never saw her alive. So how could they say with certainty that she practiced dark magic?
I wiped my tears roughly, looking at them both with anger and confusion. "How?!" I shouted. "How would you even know that she practiced dark magic when you said you saw her dead already? You never knew her! You never even spoke to her! You found me in her arms after she was gone. Then how?!"
"That's because you are from a lineage of witches." My mother said.