The night was cold and still, a thin crescent moon hung above, glowing dim and cold. Its dim light touched the rooftops, casting soft silver shadows. The wind moved through the narrow streets, whispering as it passed. It was the kind of night that felt too quiet, like even the air was afraid to make a sound.
From far away, an owl let out a cry. The sound echoed across the rooftops, sharp and lonely. A single streetlight blinked, its light fading in and out like it couldn't decide whether to stay on. Shadows moved across the ground. A stray dog limped through the silence.
Then came a new sound—panting. Heavy, uneven, full of pain. A woman was coming from the darkness. Each step was slow and shaky. Her breaths were sharp and loud, like it hurt her to keep going.
She whispered between gasps; her voice was weak but clear. "This moon… is really cursed."
A dragging sound followed her—low, rough, and wet. When she stepped into the light, it became clear. She was pulling right leg behind her, blood running down from a deep wound. Her white coat was soaked in red. Even her white-heeled boots were drenched, the blood pooling and spilling with every step, painting the ground red in her wake. Her blond hair was tangled and messy, stuck to her damp face.
"No one can escape fate" she thought through trembling mind. "It's already decided."
She was holding a small child in her arms. A little girl, no older than five, with white hair soft as snow. Even as the woman staggered forward, the girl slept on. The woman looked down at the child with the eyes full of pain and guilt, and her thoughts spilled out like whispers only the night could hear.
"I am just a fool to think that I can change the fate."
The child was asleep, but mumbled in pain, "Mom…"
The woman blinked through sweat and pain. Her eyes softened. She gently patted the girl's back and whispered, "Don't worry. Everything will be over soon. You'll be safe here."
The girl relaxed in her arms, breathing peacefully again. And the woman, though shaking and bleeding, took another step forward into the dark night, leaving a trail of red behind her.
As she neared the edge of the road, the faint sound of footsteps reached her ears.
"Someone's there," she thought, hope rising faintly in her chest.
With all her remaining strength, she quickened her pace, dragging her wounded leg behind her. When she reached the street, she saw a woman walking ahead. Her voice trembled as she called out, barely louder than a whisper: "Excuse me…"
The woman stopped and turned around slowly. She was young, kind-looking, with smooth black hair and curious eyes. But the moment she saw the figure standing behind her, a wounded blonde woman covered in blood, carrying a small child in her arms. Her face filled with shock.
The blonde woman stood there, barely upright, blood covering her white coat. Her hair was damp and tangled, her body shaking from pain. She looked at the stranger with tired, pleading eyes.
"I'm sorry to bother you," she said softly, each word costing her effort. "Can you please take care of this child?"
The black-haired woman stood frozen in shock. No one else was around. The quiet street, the blood, the child… it was too much to take in.
"I-I… who are you?" she stammered, fear flickering in her voice. "You're hurt… What happened?"
The blonde gaze dropped to the sleeping girl in her arms, and then back to the woman standing before her.
"There's no time to explain," she said. "And I don't have any other choice."
She stepped closer and held out the sleeping child, hands shaking.
"Please… just take care of her. Keep her safe." Her voice cracked. "I'll come back for her. I promise."
A thousand thoughts ran through the black-haired woman's mind as she stood frozen. And yet, without knowing why, her arms moved gently forward, reaching for the child.
The small girl shifted into her grasp, light and warm. The blonde woman looked at her one last time. Her eyes filled with sadness and guilt as she spoke in a quiet, broken voice. "I'm sorry, Zuri… I have to do this. I promise I'll come back for you."
The woman blinked. "Zuri."
Yes, that was her name. Hearing the name, the black-haired woman looked down at the child, sleeping so peacefully despite everything. Her face was round and calm, untouched by the fear in the air. Around her neck, a small crystal glinted softly against her skin—fragile, precious, like the girl herself.
"Zuri, huh?" she whispered with a small smile. "She's really cute."
Holding the child close, she glanced up, curiosity tugging at her voice. "Is she your--"
But she stopped mid-sentence because the blonde woman was gone.
She blinked in surprise because it was impossible, it had only been a few seconds. Someone that hurt couldn't disappear that fast. The blood trail was still on the ground. She looked around, confused, she stepped forward looking down the road, her voice barely whisper. "Where did she go…?"
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Nearly a twelve years had passed.
It was a quiet night, but not the peaceful kind. Shadows pooled in the corners of the street, thick and still. A woman moved quickly down the sidewalk, her coat pulled tight against the wind. Her steps were fast, focused—like there was urgency in her every step, as though she were running from something unseen.
Suddenly, her phone rang. She pulled it from her pocket and answered with a tense. "Hello?"
A moment of silence. Then her voice sharpened. "What? How?"
She stopped walking, panic breaking through her calm. Whatever she heard, it wasn't expected. Her hand gripped the phone harder. "No... here, things are worse than we imagined," she said quickly. "Leave right now."
As she kept walking and talking, a thin, stray cat followed her. It looked weak and hungry, its fur rough and patchy. It stayed close to her heels, meowing softly now and then. But the woman didn't notice it. Her mind was too full.
She lowered her voice again. "I'll be back in two days," she said. "Take care of my brothers until then."
She was clearly planning to stay—possibly to resolve something only she could face. The person on the other end must have shown concern. She replied gently, "Don't worry. I'll be fine. Nothing will happen to me."
But she wouldn't.
The cat behind her paused, its behaviour oddly erratic on the wall beside them, its shadow of cat twisted which was no longer its own. It grew taller, wider—unfolding wings and twisting into something monstrous. Horns curved from its head, and its claws stretched into razor shapes.
Then, a deep voice echoed in the air—low and cold. "I don't think so."
Everything shifted. The air grew thick, hard to breathe. The woman's steps slowed. Her heart dropped. Her body refused to obey her instinct to flee. Slowly, she turned, eyes wide and froze. Behind her stood a figure humanoid, winged, horned. Its face hidden in darkness... yet smiling.
She screamed.
The phone slipped from her hands and clattered to the pavement. On the other end, a voice called out, worried. "Hello? Miss Lilly? Are you there? Hello…?"
But there was no answer.
The cat crouched near the phone, licking something from the ground. The mobile buzzed weakly nearby. Then the light shifted just enough to reveal what the creature was licking: blood.
It was everywhere. Splashed across the wall, soaking the cold floor. A broken hand lay among it, bones exposed. Among the crimson chaos, a single handprint stood out—etched high on the wall, unmistakably marked by six fingers. The stain bled downward in a slow, dragged smear, as though whatever made it had been pulled away... unwillingly.