The Primal Saviour

Chapter Eleven

Pan's POV

Avery ran ahead of me into her old home, the mayor's house, or otherwise our new headquarters now, and I sighed at her attempt to avoid me.

"Avery!"

I called out into the silent corridors as I shut the front door after entering, but expectantly received no response.

"There's no point running, love."

I tried again while climbing up the stairs towards a particular room  on the second floor that I was all too familiar with now. After all, my daughter's chamber was the exact place where I would attempt to bear the duration of absolutely any restless night.

I pushed open the door to find her trying to wrench open the window and smirked slightly, crossing my arms over my chest and leaning against the door frame.

"You know very well that that will not work, little girl. I've sealed it with magic."

"If it's blood magic, then I'll simply call Aunt Emma over."

My jaw ticked as she reminded me of perhaps the most shameful element of my past.

My origins.

"She'll have to get through me first. And you know that I won't hesitate to finish the job."

She suddenly swung around upon hearing that and glared daggers at me.

"I already saw that!"

She screamed at the top of her lungs and sunk to the floor, sobbing bitterly which was a sight that most certainly made my heart clench in sorrow.

"Why would you do that to my grandpa?"

She demanded amidst her painful crying as I slowly walked over to her.

"He's probably out there right now, fighting for his life, for no reason at all."

"Oh, there's plenty of reason."

My voice turned ominous for a moment but I quickly morphed it back into its softness again for the sake of my little girl.

"Avery."

I tried to wrap my arms around her but she pushed me away, though I ultimately did manage to pull her into my hold and she silently submitted to crying into my chest.

"I know you're angry that Grandpa and Grandma abandoned you. But this is no way to express that anger."

I smiled softly and kissed her hair, refraining myself from telling her that what I felt about those idiots was far worse than just sheer anger.

I felt a raw and burning hatred.

I felt that I needed to rip out their hearts one by one and crush them right before their eyes.

I felt that I needed to make their loved ones die a slow and painful death, and force them to watch the entire process with their eyes wide open.

They had left me at the mercy of adoptive parents who were no less than monsters. My mother was a perfect witch, compelling me to run all of her ridiculous and uncanny errands.

Even ones that threatened my dignity.

My father was the definition of the devil himself. He never held even the slightest of adoration for me and threw me into jobs or apprenticeships I didn't want, all so he could earn a little more money. My elder brother, or adoptive elder brother, had been fortunate enough to have the guts to end his life when the suffering became too unbearable. I wasn't so brave though, however, luck had always been on my side. My parents died from a plague only a year later, and it had temporarily been a relief for me, but then I realised that I was yet to face worse. I had to fend off the world, all on my own.