PROLOGUE. "Angel" You Call Me

The sound of Ruolin's sword hitting the oak tree rang out through the training ground, creating a rhythmic pattern that was all too familiar to Xina. She watched him closely, her knees tucked up against her chest as she observed his practiced movements. There was a certain precision and grace to his swings, a testament to the countless hours he had spent training since he was a child. The oak tree had been covered by scars and dents over the years, bearing the brunt of Ruolin's relentless training.

He was to go to Sinegard, the most prestigious military school in Nikan. Then, to the Militia. Of course he was, Father expected no less.

Xina's eyes followed every move her brother made, each strike leaving a new mark on the already scarred bark.

Her family's expectations for Ruolin have always been high, but Xina was never trained for war. She had grown up watching him train, watching him prepare for a future that was so uncertain. It was the way things had always been.

Ruolin stopped training and leaned against the heavy oak tree, panting heavily. He wiped the sweat from his forehead, still not looking at Xina.

"Stop staring. I can feel your eyes boring into me," he said, finally acknowledging her presence.

Xina bristled. "Just observing."

"I don't need an audience," Ruolin replied, the tiniest hint of a smile appearing on his lips.

As if on cue, Father's voice cut through the air, immediately turning Ruolin's expression grim and both of their attention snapped to Father. "Come here."

They both knew the order was for Ruolin, not Xina. Father rarely spoke to Xina.

Ruolin stood up straight, and walked briskly towards him, leaving Xina to watch from her perch on the ground.

Father nodded in approval as Ruolin stood in front of him, eyes forward and back straight. "You've improved."

Her brother nodded stiffly. "Thank you, Father."

Without warning, Father raised his hand and struck Ruolin across his left cheek. The sound of the impact echoed, and Xina couldn't help but flinch.

She knew all too well that Father was relentless in his training methods, but there was an ache in her chest that she didn't understand and couldn't explain. Her gaze was focused on the ground beneath her feet as her fingers toyed with the soil. Anything to avoid Father's gaze.

Ruolin didn't even wince, his face expressionless as he took the hit, his body already conditioned to endure this.

Father smiled, seemingly satisfied at his son's reaction. "You won't flinch in the heat of battle if you can withstand a simple strike."

Xina could see the hatred flaring and brimming just beneath the surface of Ruolin's veneer of indifference, but he was skilled at keeping it from Father's view. The perfect soldier.

Father glanced at Xina, his gaze lingering on her for a moment. Without uttering a word, he jerked his head, signaling for her to leave them.

Xina immediately understood the silent order, and without a word, she got to her feet and quietly walked away, casting one last glance at her brother before disappearing from the training grounds.

She heard Father resume his harsh tone. "You understand you will be going to Sinegard in seven days—"

Xina made her way back to the main house, her room. A small sanctuary that offered a semblance of comfort. Finally, she was alone.

She reached for the top drawer beside her bed and picked out a small figurine she'd made out of clay when she was a toddler. An ugly thing, really.

Xina inched closer towards the lit candle beside her bed. The flame was small, but still strong. And she started hearing that voice again as she lifted the figurine to the flame. It was her own voice, but she was not speaking. It came in whispers. Words that she could barely decipher.

Embraced by one must be terrible—

One arm of the figurine caught fire.

Let alone smell the incense—

And then the other.

There is no danger—

And she smiled.

The voice would have freaked anyone else out, but as the flame consumed the ugly, fragile clay, Xina found herself strangely at ease, the words and their meaning fading away into the shadows. She felt a sense of calmness and clarity. There was something morbidly fascinating the way the fire was consuming her creation, the way it reduced it to a charred mess.

She relished the whispers that came to her through the flames. There was no comfort in the sound, but there was no threat either. Xina and the voice just so happened to...coexist.

And as the last remnants of the clat was swallowed by the fire, Xina blew out the last flicker of the flame just as it kissed her fingertips. She stored what was left of the ashy, black mess that was once her clay figurine back in the drawer, and sank back against her pillow.

It was still early, but she knew there was not much to do otherwise if she stayed awake.

Her bed felt soft and comfortable against her weary body, and she let out a soft sigh as she closed her eyes.

***

"Oh, yes, to become a great soldier," Juho, one of Xina's classmates, smirked at the mention of soldiers in the Militia. "I know a certain someone whose brother left her here all alone while he went off to play soldier. I wonder if he even thinks about you" She looked pointedly at Xina with disdain.

"I bet it's quite lonely, isn't it. I'm sure your parents don't bother to pay attention to you now that the golden boy's gone, busy being…you know, golden."

Xina's voice was eerily calm when she responded. "Maybe your parents can take me in. I'm sure they'll shower me with love and attention, like they do with you."

Juho's smirk faded, replaced by a darker look. Her eyes darted around the class, as if searching for help, but everyone kept their eyes down, as if intentionally avoiding the confrontation. Xina could see the frustration and humiliation behind Juho's eyes, and that confused her.

No one was laughing; why was her classmate humiliated?

Ruolin had left a dagger of his before he left for Sinegard. Xina hadn't noticed it in the drawer of her dresser until now. She was sure that he'd simply forgotten it. He never forgets his weapons.

Xina took the silver dagger out gingerly, and ran her fingers along the cold edge of the blade.

She spun the dagger with the end of the blade pressed against the tip of her index finger.

And the voice came again.

You like that pain—

Pierce through your skin—

Subconsciously, she pressed the tip of the dagger harder into her finger. A dot of crimson formed on her fingertip.

Alone in the woods—

Xina dropped the dagger, and found herself walking towards the forest.

The forest wasn't eerie or creepy. It was just a collection of trees, reflecting the feeble light of the pale moon. Xina found comfort here.

And a figure's shadow was behind those of the trees.

Xina squinted her eyes to make out the figure's face.

"Xina? Is that you?" A familiar, irritating voice rang out. Juho walked out from behind those trees; Xina couldn't read her expression.

"It's alright. It's me. Why are you bleeding?"

Xina looked down at her hand. There was a thin line of dried blood that ran from the tip to the second joint of her finger. "I—I cut myself."

Juho walked closer. "Why did you say that today?"

Xina's brows furrowed. She knew exactly what this was about.

"Don't say that about my family." Juho's eyes were brighter than normal. Was she crying?

Xina was certain that those were tears.

But why? Xina didn't say anything horrible.

"You don't get to say things like that, especially in front of everyone." Juho shoved Xina, hard. That caught Xina off-guard, as she lost her balance and fell on her back.

She didn't even have time to make sense of what was happened when she felt Juho's hands close around her neck in a firm grip. Xina gasped for air as she heard her heartbeat quickening.

"Guess what, you little bitch? I was humiliated. You know what rumours about my family you've started?"

"Stop. Please," Xina managed as she tried to pry Juho's hands off her neck. Her vision started to blur around the edges, and desperation built up in her chest. She didn't want to die.

You want to breathe—

You want her hands off you—

Xina's hand desperately clawed at the ground. Her fingers closed around the surface of a rough, jagged rock. It was all she had. She clutched the rock tightly, her knuckles turning white.

You'll like this.

With adrenaline pumping in her veins, Xina struck Juho in the back of her head. There was a crushing sound. And she struck her classmate' skull again and again and again.

Eight times. She counted.

Maybe around the third time, the pressure around her neck released itself.

Then she looked at her now former classmate's body.

Oh, gods.

She ignored the pounding in her head and stumbled in the direction of her home.

Xina was shaking uncontrollably as she stood in front of the main house. She'd been standing there for hours—the sky had already started to turn into shades of a deep burnt orange.

She couldn't bring herself to move. Why was she so scared to go inside?

Then, the door swung open, revealing Mama.

For a long moment, she just stared at her daughter, taking in Xina's trembling form, her expression unreadable. Without a word, she motioned for Xina to come inside.

As they walk through the familiar halls, Xina's stomach churned. Mama didn't know what she did, but she would soon. Would that be what makes Mama break? Or had she broken long ago?

They stopped at the bathroom. Mama filled the tub with a bit of water and started to help Xina undress, removing her scratched and dirty clothes. The room was filled with a tense silence, the only sounds being the rustling of the fabric and the soft splashing of the water.

Xina sank down into the bathtub, her body trembling slightly. Mama knelt down beside the bathtub, silently filling a jug with warm water and poured it over Xina's head, occasionally pushing her daughter's hair out of her face. Her motions were slow and deliberate, as if any sudden movement could break her daughter.

Xina could no long hold back the sobs that were trapped in her chest. Oh, Mama, what will you do when you find out? What will Father do when he finds out?

Mama's hand paused momentarily, her gaze flicking to Xina's face for a fraction of a second, but said nothing.

Fear gripped Xina's heart, and tearless sobs shook her body. She couldn't help but imagine the worst possible outcomes.

She'd be locked up, isolated, punished-

She could imagine Father's face twisted with anger, his harsh words.

She feared that more than anything.

────────────

carol speaks !
yes i know this is horrifically short why do i genuinely SUCK at writing prologues ugh

anyways thank you SO much for the love for just the intro chapter! all of your comments made me so happy

here's the thing, the voice xina hears is her own and is actually saying words but the quality is like playing an audio of someone whispering in reverse so even xina can barely make out some of the words. does that make sense? 😭 anyways thank you so so much for reading this shitty prologue! ❤️ i honestly dont prewrite chapters so we'll see where my motivation takes me

also do let me know what you guys want to see further into this story!

love yall bunches