When monsters find each other young, the world should hold its breath. They were never built to last, they were only made to break each other- beautifully.
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Lillian had always known what she wanted from the world.
Not fame. Not grandeur. Not even the particular brand of power her bloodline whispered about in marble hallways and velvet-draped parlors.
She wanted quiet.
She wanted a life where doors didn't slam, where footsteps weren't followed by shouting. She wanted softness. Warm dinners. A garden with bees. A mother who wasn't broken and a father who came home before the sky turned dark.
But the world had not been built for softness. And it certainly hadn't been built for Lillian Vergard.
Her mother, Claudia Avery, had once been a jewel—regal and radiant in her younger years, raised among purebloods with gold-spun hair and cruel intentions. But childbirth took more than her breath. It left her spine shattered and her spirit buckled. The pain never stopped. Neither did the bitterness.
With her body crippled and her ambitions ground to dust, Claudia turned to witch narcotics—glass vials of swirling colors, powders that sang lullabies, pills that whispered nothing matters. She chased numbness the way others chased dreams. And in that numbness, she disappeared.
Lillian's father, Delphinius Vergard, bore the weight of it all. A man stretched thin between the demands of duty and the slow erosion of love. His hands were always rough, his eyes always tired. He left before dawn and returned long after moonlight swallowed the streets, bringing the smell of smoke and London soot with him.
Lillian had grown up knowing silence as a kind of safety. If no one was talking, no one was fighting.
She had learned to read the cracks in her mother's voice. The tremble in a cup placed too hard on the counter. The meaning in a sigh. She'd grown up too fast, like weeds breaking through stone.
But she still hoped.
Every night, even when the snow beat against the windows and the wind howled like wolves, she would pull her patchwork quilt over her head and pretend—pretend that things were normal, that her father would be home soon, that her mother would smile again.
