The fall

Prologue

Penelope

The price of joining the Sylvans was never meant to be so steep. So many died in the war against Valort, but what tore me apart wasn't the bodies that fell on the battlefield—It was the weight of my own sins, the curse that clung to me like a shadow, reminding me every day of the price I paid for this blood-stained path.

Every crimson moon, without fail, my black hair transforms into a shocking red, as though it too has soaked in the blood of those I've killed. It is a cruel reminder, each time, of the massacre I've brought with my own hands.
And still, I feel nothing. No remorse. No regret. I am numb, only driven by the anger that pulses through my veins.
They were the sinners—each of them. And I, the judge. The jury. The executioner.

The truth is, I do not kill for the sake of bloodlust, but for vengeance. The pain of losing my mother, of never knowing her except through whispers and the bitter stories passed down to me, is a wound that has festered inside my entire life.
A wound that only grows with each passing day, each life I take. The Dorothea family may carry the name "Gift of god," but there's nothing divine about me. I am nothing but a weapon, a blade forged in sorrow and rage.

Yet, even with this cold resolve, even as I rise to my place as Captain of district eight, I have been forced to confront something more human, more fragile—love.
I nearly lost him.
The man I've given my heart to. But his betrayal—his silence—cut deeper than any blade. He kept the truth from me.
And I, In my fury, nearly lost myself. I nearly lost him.

I now know what they say about me, that I've become a monster, a creature born of darkness, with blood on my hands and vengeance in my heart.
But if that's the only thing they see, I'll have them fear me. I will become everything they dread. Because this is the only way I know how to honor a mother I never had the chance to know. To avenge a family that was torn apart before it even began.

No one will stop me. Not even love.