Anastasia. Secrets of the Past Unraveled

Chapter 1: The Twilight in St. Petersburg

I suppose all little girls see their fathers as great heroes, unbreakable figures fighting for their families' well-being. At least, that's how I saw my father in my beloved St. Petersburg, before everything changed.

I was born in the heart of the Russian Empire, in a different kind of family, in a palace where I never lacked anything. However, to me, my father was always a loving and hardworking man, though burdened with much heavier and darker responsibilities.

My governesses always spoke of how wonderful my father was as the Tsar of Russia, how beloved he was by his people. They tried to justify his constant absences, but as a child, I only saw a man weighed down with worries.

Of those happy times, I treasure few memories. Summers at the Summer Palace in St. Petersburg were the most special. We played with my sisters and my little brother Alexei, who always had to be treated with extreme care. My mother never allowed open discussion of his illness, but it was an open secret that something very serious afflicted him.

In those days, there was an enigmatic figure who roamed the palace, a shadow that filled me with both fear and fascination. His name was Grigori Rasputin. My mother said he was the only one who could save Alexei, and for that reason, he was considered by my parents as one of the Romanovs. Rasputin was attributed with mystical powers, supernatural healing abilities, but among the servants, it was whispered that he was a sorcerer, a witch.

Rasputin had a deep, penetrating gaze that seemed to see through your soul. He always dressed in black, and his presence was as imposing as it was terrifying. Though he scared me, I trusted what I was told: that he was our hope to save Alexei.

Despite the fear he inspired in me, my childhood with my siblings was happy. We were loved, cared for, and protected. But slowly, the world I knew began to crumble. The atmosphere in the palace grew tense, the servants' whispers were constant, and worried glances multiplied.

I almost never saw my father anymore. When I asked about him, my governesses said he was very busy with work, that there were problems, but nothing a child should worry about. However, when I did see him, he was not the same. His gaze was lost, and for some reason, I could see fear in his eyes.

The true terror began one night when a crowd approached the palace with torches, wanting to force their way in. My siblings and I cried in fear, while my mother tried to convey security, though her own fear was palpable.

I was 15 years old and understood what was happening outside. I managed to get information from a newspaper someone had left carelessly or by listening to the palace staff. The news was not good. A great economic crisis was hitting the country. People were hungry, there was no work, and they demanded my father's head.

I thought that wasn't possible. My father would never allow that to happen to his people. But reality was relentless, and every day the situation worsened. Everything reached a critical point in December 1916, when our protector, Rasputin, was captured and killed. My mother was devastated, repeatedly saying that they had killed the only one who could save Alexei.

It was rumored that it had been revenge, that he was a bad influence on our family. However, his death was the first sign that our downfall was imminent. By February 1917, chaos was total. Protests in front of the palace were increasingly frequent and violent. My father was cornered, his most loyal servants turned their backs on him, leaving him practically alone.

Finally, the unthinkable happened. In March 1917, my father was forced to abdicate. An unknown fear ran through my body the day we were taken prisoner, stripped of our belongings. We lost the most valuable thing we had: our freedom. But we remained united, and my father defended us with his life against any threat.