𝙰𝚖𝚘𝚛 𝚅𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚒𝚝 𝙾𝚖𝚗𝚒𝚊 》𝙿𝚑𝚘𝚎𝚋𝚞𝚜 𝙰𝚙𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚘

0.00

THE DAY HER beautiful daughter was born was the first time in many years where Laila Castillo felt true happiness. Staring down at her baby girl, the young woman couldn't help a soft smile from forming on her lips.

"My baby," she whispered as she caressed her newborn's cheek. She didn't think it was possible to love someone as much as she loved this little girl whom she held, but here she was, her heart filled to its fullest capacity with nothing but love and adoration.

Looking down at the freckles that already could be seen poking through her skin and the toothless smile that graced her lips, Laila couldn't help but to let a tear slip from her eye. It had barely been a few hours since her baby was born, but Laila could see that she had made a mistake giving birth to a girl who was going to live a future full of despair and tragedy. How could she be so cruel? How could she go through with forcing this child—this beautiful and innocent child—into a life that would treat her with nothing but brutality?

Still, the woman held her baby close to her chest, silently promising that she would do anything and everything she could to protect her from the awful world of gods and monsters that she had put her in. That was her job as a mother, right? To shield her precious baby from what was hiding in the closet and whatever else there may be?

She planted a small kiss on the infant's forehead, careful to be as gentle as possible.

"Bwa'dik, nouri, ana dayman raḥ koun hon kermalik." I promise you, my light, I will always be here for you.

THE LORD OF THE DEAD never thought there would be a day where he would be nervous about meeting one of his offspring. He had had hundreds, if not thousands, of kids in the past, each one whom he had met and cared for (as much as a god could care for anyone, anyway); yet here he was, standing outside the hospital room door, questioning whether or not he should go in.

An array of thoughts consumed his mind as he stood outside the door. He knew that his beloved was mad at him, their fight from a few months ago proved that much, but he had a strange feeling inside of him telling him that it didn't matter. That no matter what, he had to meet his daughter. The god wasn't sure what it was about her, nor why he felt such intense pressure about the whole ordeal, but it was almost as if the Fates themselves were whispering into a part of his soul, urging him to see her.

So, here he stood, his hand hovering over the door handle, waiting for the perfect moment to walk inside the room.

Finally, he let out an aggravated huff and opened the door. Why was he acting like such a coward? He was the god of the Underworld for Olympus' sake! He wasn't some impotent, feeble mortal who had no more worth than a grain of sand. Still, he couldn't help but to feel anxious for what might come.

With a deep breath, he stepped inside, his imposing presence instantly filling the small hospital room. His dark eyes scanned the space until they landed on Laila, who was cradling their newborn daughter. The sight of them together softened something inside him, a feeling he hadn't experienced in eons.

Laila looked up, her expression a mix of surprise and guardedness. She tightened her grip on the baby, instinctively shielding her from the man who had caused her so much pain. "What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

He took a tentative step forward, his gaze fixed on the tiny bundle in her arms. "I had to see her," he replied, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. "I had to see our daughter."

Laila's eyes narrowed, but she didn't move away. Instead, she watched him closely, trying to read his intentions. The Lord of the Dead wasn't known for his compassion, and she couldn't afford to take any risks when it came to her child's safety.

As he approached, he couldn't help but notice the way the baby's tiny hand grasped Laila's finger, holding on with surprising strength. His heart ached at the sight, a mixture of pride and sorrow flooding through him. He wanted to reach out, to touch his daughter, but he hesitated, afraid of breaking the fragile moment.

"Please," he said softly, his eyes meeting Laila's. "Let me hold her."

Laila studied him for a long moment before she finally nodded, albeit reluctantly. Carefully, she handed the baby over to him, her hands trembling slightly. The god cradled his daughter in his arms, his touch surprisingly tender for someone so feared.

The baby's eyes fluttered open, and she gazed up at him with a curiosity that was both innocent and profound. In that instant, the god felt a connection stronger than any he had ever known. This tiny being, so pure and full of potential, was a part of him, a part of Laila, and he was overwhelmed by the depth of his emotions.

"She's beautiful," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "Just like her mother."

Laila's eyes softened at his words, but she remained wary. "She deserves better than this," she said quietly. "Better than the life this world will give her."

The god nodded, understanding the weight of her words. "I know," he said. "And I will do everything in my power to protect her. To protect both of you."

For the first time, Laila saw a glimmer of sincerity in his eyes, and she dared to hope that maybe, just maybe, things could be different. They had brought a new life into the world, and perhaps that was the beginning of something new for them as well.

As the Lord of the Dead held his daughter close, he made a silent vow to be the father she deserved, to shield her from the darkness that threatened to consume them. And in that moment, a fragile truce was formed, a promise of a better future for their precious child. One that many others before her had failed to have.

YEARS PASSED SINCE the little girl's birth, and her parents found that she was just as innocent as she was the day she was born. Her eyes were wide, dark, and similar, they found, to one of a baby doe; her hair was a magnificent shade of onyx, that would almost glisten in the sunlight; and the freckles that had graced her since birth practically danced across her tan skin, creating a pattern not unlike a constellation.

It wasn't just her parents that saw the immense purity that made up the young girl's soul, as the entire village she resided in saw it too. The townsfolk had never met a child who was more respectful and appreciative than she was, and it set their standards to an all time high. If a girl no older than seven years old could behave to such an extent, then why couldn't their teenagers, who were twice her age?

Regardless, they found themselves captivated by the girl's attitude towards the world, and it made them want to have that outlook, too. It felt refreshing to see the world around them in a different light, even if it was exceedingly difficult at times.

The effect she had on the village was enough to make her parents swell up with the utmost pride. Their baby girl was solace for all those who needed it, and they wouldn't want to change that for the world.

For Laila, it gave her hope that maybe her precious daughter would be able to survive in a world full of hatred and fear.

For Hades, it was a sign of her strength—her resilience—which provided him with the relief he had been searching for since she was born.

Not only that, but it was also nice watching as she interacted with others, whether they be kids her age or the elderly. She had an aura to her that made others feel welcomed, like it didn't matter who they were or who they wanted to be.

Everyone could tell that one day, the little girl they had all grown to love would change the world, and the billions of lives inhabiting it.

So, when Kyra Castillo disappeared, the world seemed to stop.