The night was quieter than it should have been.
A silence that felt like a trap.
Kalin stepped out of the wooden house carefully, pulling his thin coat tighter around his small body. The air was cold, yet something warm lingered in his chest. Inside his tiny pocket, his fingers clutched a few metal coins—coins he had gathered one by one, day after day, through exhaustion and pain. They weren't much… but they were everything he had.
He was thinking of her.
Anya.
She had promised him.
She told him things would get better.
She told him the world was not always cruel.
When he noticed the white flower at the corner of the road, he stopped.
It wasn't beautiful in the way large bouquets were—but it was pure.
White.
Quiet.
Just like her.
He hesitated.
Looked at the coins in his palm.
Then smiled softly—one of those smiles no one ever saw.
"She deserves it…"
he whispered to himself.
He bought the flower.
Carefully, he hid it inside his coat, as if it were a treasure. Hunger, exhaustion, and cold no longer mattered. All he could think about was placing it beside her bed… and thanking her in his own silent way.
But the road was not empty.
By his third step, he felt it.
That heavy sensation creeping up the back of his neck.
Breathing that couldn't be seen—yet could be felt.
He quickened his pace.
The shadow did the same.
He didn't turn around.
He had learned early that looking back was weakness.
Then—
a footstep.
Too close.
He ran.
His small heart pounded violently. The air grew heavier. The road felt longer than before. He tripped, fell hard on his knee, a muffled cry escaping his chest. As he tried to get up, a hand struck him and shoved him roughly.
Pain.
Hot.
Sharp.
He looked at his arm…
Blood.
He didn't scream.
Instead, he pressed the flower tightly against his chest and forced himself up, running without looking back.
The shadow followed for a moment…
then stopped.
As if it had seen enough.
Finally—
home.
He opened the door quietly.
He didn't want to wake her.
Inside, everything was still.
The fire had gone out.
The light was dim.
Anya lay on her bed, covered up to her chest, her face peaceful.
Too peaceful.
Kalin smiled.
She's sleeping, he thought.
He approached with tiny steps.
Pulled the flower from his coat.
Placed it gently beside her pillow.
"Thank you…"
he whispered, biting his lip to hold back his tears.
He glanced at his injured arm.
He didn't want her to worry.
He stepped back.
Closed the door softly.
Outside, he sat near the wall.
The night was cold.
Blood slowly dripped from his arm.
He waited.
He waited for the door to open.
For her to call his name.
For her laugh—to tell him the flower was beautiful.
Nothing happened.
Time passed.
The sky changed.
One drop.
Then another.
Rain began to fall.
He lifted his head.
Then suddenly stood up, as if something struck his heart.
He rushed inside.
This time, he opened the door without caution.
"Anya?"
No answer.
He stepped closer.
Reached out.
Touched her fingers.
Cold.
A cold that was not sleep.
He froze.
He shook her gently.
Then harder.
"Anya…?"
Nothing.
He fell to his knees.
The sound finally escaped him—
broken.
weak.
The sound of a child realizing that promises do not come back.
He clutched the bed.
He cried silently.
He cried like someone who had never been allowed to scream.
The next day, strangers arrived.
Sad faces.
Words he did not understand.
The farewell was simple.
Short.
Before they left, someone handed him a photograph.
An old picture… Anya smiling.
"Keep it…"
the man said softly.
He walked away.
No home.
No fire.
No warm voice calling his name.
He sat under the rain.
Pressed the picture to his chest.
Tears fell.
And the rain grew heavier.
As if the sky…
had heard him.
And cried with him.
He lifted the photo and whispered, his voice barely audible:
"You promised me…"
In that moment, something inside him didn't just break—
it changed.
And the world…
was no longer a safe place for a child carrying a white flowerThey buried Anya later that day.
Not in a cemetery.
But beneath a quiet tree, where sunlight filtered gently through the leaves.
Kalin placed the white flower on the ground.
"I didn't say thank you," he whispered. "But… thank you."
Kala held his hand tightly.
As they turned away, Kalin felt it again.
That feeling.
Eyes.
Watching.
He looked back.
For just a second, he saw a shadow between the buildings.
Still.
Patient.
Waiting.
The world hadn't softened.
It had simply taken something precious—
And left him with nothing but choice.
Kalin tightened his grip on Kala's hand.
"I promise," he said quietly. "I won't let them take anyone else."
Above them, the wind moved softly through the branches.
And somewhere in the distance…The cold wind swept through the empty streets, mixing with the rain seeping from the gray sky.
Kalin sat on the sidewalk, clutching the photo that had become everything he owned.
The sound of the rain was like Anya's voice, as if she were crying with him, whispering:
"I'm here… but not the way you expect."
Kala, only three years old, leaned against his small shoulder, unaware of the scale of loss, but she felt the sadness filling his heart.
"Brother… where's Anya?"
He replied in a quiet, broken voice:
"She's gone… she's not with us anymore, Kala."
The night was dark, the rain growing heavier, washing the streets of every trace—but it couldn't wash Kalin's pain.
He looked at the clouds, heavy in the sky, thinking of the promise he could not keep.
"I promised her… I promised to protect her… and I couldn't."
He took a deep breath, his heart swinging between sorrow and anger, a new decision emerging from inside:
"No one will touch us… no one will take what's left of me."
At that moment, he felt movement in the shadows behind him.
His small eyes widened.
He was not alone.
Another shadow watched him, silent, hiding among the old building pillars.
His heart raced faster than ever.
The enemy had not vanished—it was aware now that Kalin was exposed.
Anger and Resolve
Kalin gripped the photo of Anya tightly.
Tears soaked his cheeks, yet he felt a new kind of strength he had never known.
The photo was a reminder—not of weakness, but of the power she had left inside him.
"If she's gone… I will protect myself and my sister… no matter the cost."
The rain soaked his face, but he didn't care.
He felt the chill, but fear was gone.
Anger turned into determination.
"I will make this city a place where we do not surrender… we will not be prey again."
Kala looked at him, not fully understanding, but she sensed the surge of energy flowing from him.
"Brother… I'm with you."
He gave her a sad but determined smile:
"Yes… together. We'll find a way back to our home… and live the life we should."
First Danger – Confrontation
As he tried to stand, the mysterious man appeared again.
This time, he didn't hide but stood at a distance, watching every move.
Kalin felt a current of fear, but he did not step back.
"I will not be afraid… I will not run."
The figure approached, his steps almost silent on the wet pavement.
Kalin raised his fist, the photo of Anya a small shield in his hands.
"Who are you? What do you want?!"
The shadow smiled but did not speak.
Instead, it pulled a small metallic dagger and raised its hand.
Kalin did not move—but he felt something inside change.
Fear turned into alertness.
A small, invisible power began to flow through him.
He somehow knew this force was part of his inner promise… to protect those he loved.
Bloody Encounter
The shadow lunged suddenly.
Kalin pushed Kala behind him and raised the photo to shield himself.
The fight was quick, every move fueled by survival.
The shadow struck his chest… sharp pain, a small trickle of blood staining his shirt.
But the pain did not stop him.
His anger grew with each strike, each scratch, each near attack.
"No one will take what's left of me!"
Some attacks missed him, but he felt they were probing for weakness… testing how much he could bear.
He jumped, ducked, and avoided the last blow in an unexpected way.
The shadow was surprised…
but Kalin didn't care. Protecting himself and his sister was all that mattered.
Inner Breaking
After minutes of fighting, the mysterious man stopped.
He did not attack again, but stepped back slowly, as if to say:
"I will not forget… I will return."
Kalin stared at him with eyes full of anger and sorrow.
Blood, tears, and exhaustion… all mingled.
He felt broken inside—not because of the wound, but because his world had become harsher than he imagined.
Kala held his hand, trying to comfort him, not knowing what to say.
He whispered in a low voice:
"Sister… we'll stay alive… we'll find our way… but I was scared… for the first time, I felt I couldn't protect."
The rain soaked them further.
The street was empty, only faint lights from distant windows flickered.
The photo in Kalin's hand was drenched, but he did not let go.
"Anya… I will keep your promise alive… no matter what."
Temporary Ending
With dawn breaking, Kalin and Kala stood in the soaked street.
The rain stopped gradually, but the inner voice did not.
The enemy was still out there… watching.
But Kalin… was no longer a weak child.
He had lost a great support, yet he gained a new decision, a resolve that would forge him into someone unbreakable.
The sky was gray, but a small ray of light pierced through the clouds.
Kalin held the photo to his chest again.
He smiled, despite the pain:
"We will continue… we will live… and one day… we will return home."