The Archipelago

A Mother's Crime, A Daughter's Grief

Chapter 1: A Mother's Crime, A Daughter's Grief                                                                                         

The sound of distant sirens echoed in the quiet streets as Natalie stood frozen in the doorway of her home, her mind reeling with the horrific scene in front of her. Her mother sat at the kitchen table, hands trembling, eyes wide and hollow, staring at the lifeless body of her brother sprawled on the floor. Blood pooled beneath his lifeless form, soaking into the cracks of the wooden floorboards, its scent sharp and metallic in the air.

Her mother, Evelyn, looked up, her face devoid of emotion. "He deserved it. For what he did to Sarah."

Natalie's heart pounded in her chest. Sarah—her little sister. The memory of her innocent smile flashed in her mind, and Natalie's breath caught in her throat. The thought of her uncle taking that away, snuffing out her sister's light, sent waves of anger coursing through her. But this? This act of murder?

Before Natalie could respond, the loud screech of tires cut through the air. Red and blue lights flickered through the windows, casting a harsh glow on the bloody scene. The neighbors had called the authorities. Panic surged in Natalie's chest. Her mother didn't flinch.

"Mom, we have to go—" Natalie tried to pull her mother up, but Ane was a statue, unmoving.

"You can't stay here. They'll take you."

"I don't care," Evelyn whispered. "It's justice."

But it wasn't justice—it was the end. The door burst open, and police flooded the room. Natalie's world slowed, as if the weight of the moment was suffocating her. They took her mother without a fight, handcuffing her wrists, leading her away. Natalie watched, helpless, as her last living family member was dragged out of the house, her mother's face a blank slate of guilt and resignation.

Alone, Natalie sank to the floor. There was no one left.

The Training Grounds – Drussi Military Base                                                                                                 

Grief twisted into fury, and Natalie used every bit of it to push herself further into her combat training. Her moves were sharp, deliberate, and filled with a desperation that alarmed even her instructors. Every punch, every kick, was a release of the anguish that gnawed at her soul.

"Faster, Natalie! Again!" her instructor barked, his voice echoing through the massive training hall.

Natalie gritted her teeth and threw another series of punches, her fists connecting with the padded target in a rhythm that mirrored the pounding of her heart. Sweat dripped down her face, her muscles burning from hours of relentless training. But she couldn't stop. Stopping meant feeling, and feeling was too dangerous.

Her instructor, Master Roran, watched her carefully, his expression unreadable. He had seen recruits push themselves hard before, but Natalie was different. She fought like she was running from something—something dark and painful.

"Natalie, that's enough for today," he said, stepping forward. But she didn't stop. She couldn't.

"I said that's enough!" Roran's hand shot out, grabbing her arm. She yanked it back, breathing hard, her eyes wild with intensity.

"I'm not done," she spat, anger flaring.

Roran's gaze softened slightly. "Natalie, you've trained for hours. Pushing yourself past this point won't help you. Take a break."