The Silent oath

Prologue: The Purple Tree

I was taken when I was six, but the memories of my life before that are like fragments of a dream. Sometimes they come to me in flashes, vivid and vibrant, before they fade away into the shadows of my mind.

I remember my mother's smile, warm and gentle, like the first rays of the morning sun breaking through the clouds. Her laughter would fill our small home with light, making everything seem so safe and perfect. She had long, flowing hair that shimmered like gold in the sunlight, and her eyes were a soft blue, always full of love and kindness. My father had a laugh that could chase away any fear. It was a deep, hearty sound, like the rumble of thunder in the distance, but it never scared me. He was strong, with broad shoulders and hands that could lift me up high into the air, making me feel like I was flying. I remember his stories, the way he would sit by the fire at night and tell me tales of faraway lands and brave heroes. There was always the sound of a baby crying. My little brother, barely a year old, was always in my mother's arms. I can still hear his cries, sometimes happy, sometimes hungry, but always a reminder of the life we shared. I would watch my mother cradle him, singing softly to soothe his tiny worries.

But the clearest memory I have is of the tree. The purple tree that shone like amethyst. It stood at the edge of our village, its branches reaching out like welcoming arms. The leaves sparkled in the sunlight, casting a magical glow over everything around it. I loved that tree. I would spend hours playing beneath its branches, imagining it was a gateway to another world, a place of wonder and adventure. Our village was a peaceful coastal town. The sea was always near, its waves crashing gently against the shore. I loved the smell of salt in the air, the feel of the sand between my toes. The townsfolk were kind, and there was always a sense of safety, of belonging. We had everything we needed, and life was simple but beautiful.

Then, one night, everything changed. I woke to the sound of shouting, the clash of metal, and the heavy thud of boots on the wooden floors. My father's laugh was gone, replaced by a cry of pain. My mother's smile turned to a scream, a desperate plea for mercy. The baby's cries were drowned out by the chaos. I hid under my bed, clutching a small wooden toy my father had carved for me. My heart pounded in my chest, each beat a drum of terror. I could see shadows moving in the flickering light of the flames that were consuming our home. The smell of smoke filled my nostrils, stinging my eyes. Then they found me. Cold, cruel hands dragged me out from my hiding place. I looked up and saw a face hidden in the shadows, a mask with no features, just empty eyes staring back at me. I kicked and screamed, but it was no use. They were too strong. I was taken outside, and that's when I saw them. The Takers. They moved like shadows, swift and silent, their light blue cloaks billowing in the night. They didn't speak, didn't show any emotion. They were like ghosts, coming to take me away from everything I had ever known. I tried to fight, to get back to my family, but the last thing I remember is the purple tree. The way its leaves seemed to reach out to me, glowing even brighter in the firelight, as if it were trying to protect me. But then everything went dark, and I was lost to the world I had known.

That night marked the end of my childhood, the end of innocence. It was the beginning of my journey into the dark world of The Family. The life I had known was gone, replaced by a new reality where shadows ruled and faces were forgotten. And yet, the memory of the purple tree, my mother's smile, my father's laugh, and the cry of a baby stayed with me, haunting my dreams, a reminder of the life that was stolen from me.