My parents weren't here. The space they'd been lying in was warm, but mainly cold, a pile of rumpled blankets laying where they'd just been. I slowly got up from the bed, peeling the blankets off my body. "Mother, Father?" I groaned sleepily, rubbing my eyes.

I looked out the window. The sun was still rising, the skies turning from a deep purple to coral. My feet fell to the cold marble floor, and I padded my way to the bathroom. "Mother, Father?" I called out again.

No response.

Maybe they were hungry and went to the kitchens to get something to eat? I'd done it many times before—even though I wasn't supposed to—so my parents should have also been there.

I walked out of the main bedroom and into the foyer, grabbing my slippers before slipping through the doors that led to the hallways.

I shuddered as a cold breeze swept through one of the windows, and hurried my feet until I was walking down the servant's halls to the kitchens of the castle.

I didn't notice much of the journey, just the growl of my stomach as a waft of the food from down there snaked its way up the stairwell. It didn't matter if I'd eaten a whole feast, one smell of the kitchens and I'd be hungry for more.

I braced an arm on the wall as I placed a foot into the kitchen. The scents hit me in full force then. Spices and salts, sweets and pastries, every item of food down there tickled my nose in the best way ever. I sighed, breathing it all in. This was one of the reasons I loved the palace so much.

Your mother and father, Ophelia. Focus.

A voice who sounded a lot like my father chided in my head. I opened my mouth, about to call for them, but a lady came into my view.

It was the head chef, Mallory, the one who let me stay in the kitchens and snuck me pastries and rolls of bread. One time, she'd even let me stay a little late to hear the other staff tell stories. I had nightmares for a whole week after that, but I still begged her to let me stay.

"Now, what is a child your age doing out of bed so early?" She scolded, pinching my cheek with her fingers.

I giggled, pulling away from her. My cheeks stung a little, but it was better than the pinches my mother gave. "I'm looking for my mother and father." I told her.

She turned around, grabbed a roll of bread, and placed it in my hand. "I haven't seen either of them in these kitchens, but you should go search for them on a full stomach."

"Do you know anyone who's seen them?" I asked, rolling the bread in my palms.

Suddenly, another maid walked into the conversation. "Who, Lord Kallias?"

"Yes!" I immediately perked up. So maybe my mother and father had come into the kitchens, but had left through another entrance.

"I saw Lord Kallias walking with the King to the courtyard in the left wing of the castle." She said, turning around.

"Wait," I called out before she could leave.

"Yes?" She smiled, but it came out forced.

"What about my mother?"

She was silent, and she wiped her palms on her forehead. "Oh, uh, she was with your father, child." She scurried off without another word.

I looked up at Mallory, silently asking her for an answer. She didn't notice me, staring at the disappearing maid. Her lips parted into an 'O' before a look of sombre passed through them.

"Aunty Mallory," I started, and her head snapped to my face. Mallory wasn't really my aunt, my mother had taught me that calling an elder 'aunty' or 'uncle' was the respectful thing to do, instead of calling them by their first names.

She gave me a soft smile, leaning down and brushing my cheek with one hand. "How about you stay here for a while? Hmm?"

"But why?" It was really early, and I had to find my parents to tell them about the news I'd forgotten to tell them yesterday. After speaking to one of the palace instructors, they said I could join the sparring lessons. Today was my first one, and I could barely contain my excitement.

"Honey... Your parents are probably... Making a surprise for you! You wouldn't want to ruin it, right?" She grinned at me, taking a hand in mine and leading me away from the stairs.

I pulled away. "But why would they..." I began, until a slow smile spread across my face. It grew and grew and grew until the smile I wore physically hurt. "So they know I'm allowed to spar now?" I exclaimed, jumping up and down.

So that was why they were up so early. They'd somehow found out that I was allowed to spar, and planned to surprise me. It wasn't normal, getting surprises, and I wondered what it would've been.

"Oh honey, that's wonderful news." Mallory hugged me.

"Yep! I was planning on telling you after I'd told my parents, but since they already knew, I can tell you."

"We'll celebrate with your favourite dessert then." She sighed. But I saw it—the gleam of sadness in her eyes.

"Don't be sad that I didn't tell you sooner, I had to tell my parents first." I laughed, wrapping an arm around her as I walked with her.

"What, how do you– No, I'm not sad." She smiled at me again, and I couldn't help but feel like it felt fake.

"Aunty Mallory, what happened?"

"Nothing, Ophelia, nothing." She squeezed my hand in hers, taking me away from the door.

"I'm going to go try spying on my parents, do you want to come with me?" I removed my hand from hers and stared up at her with my best attempt of "puppy" eyes.

"But that would ruin the surprise," She tapped her finger on my nose. "Let's stay in here."

Normally, Mallory would've wanted to talk about it. She'd start to exaggerate on the plan of the ploy, gladly joining in. Why was she contradicting it now?

"But I want to ruin the surprise." I enunciated each word, slowly walking away while grabbing a custard off one of the counters.

"Honey, don't leave, we still need to get your celebration food ready–" She tried to stop me again, but I was already at the exit.

"We'll have it for dinner, bye!" I yelled as I leaped up the steps two at a time.

"Ophelia," She shouted, but I couldn't hear the rest of her words. I was already too deep into the stairwell.

I hummed to myself, skipping up the steps. My mood was infinitely better, now that I knew my parents were planning a surprise for me. A congratulations, for managing to convince the palace instructors to let a girl spar. I was proud of myself, too.

I slowly munched on the custard, switching the custard for the bread roll occasionally. By the time I'd come out of the stairwell, the custard was gone, with only a little bit of the bread left.

I was already at the left wing, I just had to go a little more left to get to the courtyard.

My feet were absurdly loud in the otherwise empty hallway. After the noise and cozy warmth of the kitchens, the halls felt cold, lifeless. Like the remains of a skeleton. I didn't shudder because of a breeze, this time.

I spotted a square of grey sunlight ahead, and I rushed to it. It was the entrance to the courtyard.

I heard a faint scream from somewhere, and didn't think much of it. Screams were always echoing in the palace, and only the absence of them would've been worrying.

I walked through the archway to the courtyard. The sun was dull, still rising from its slumber. The whole courtyard was wreathed in a thin mist, making it feel like I was walking through a graveyard, instead. The screams slowly grew louder the closer I got. It sounded like a woman's screams, and when I got close enough to see the outline of a few people, I knew whose screams they were.

They were my mother's.

I picked up my pace, running through the dewey grass. Only to slam into the back of my father.

"Ophelia, what are you doing here?" His stern voice was tinged with fear, and I couldn't possibly understand why. Unless my mother was being hurt.

"Father, where's Mother?" I asked him in a panic. Only when I laid my eyes on her, would I be able to tell she was safe.

"Your mother is in the kitchens." He shifted, coming in front of me as though he was hiding something. The lie he just told me would've sounded like a truth, had I not just been there. "Father, don't lie to me." I pulled on his sleeve, shoving him aside to look at what he was trying to hide.

"Your Mother is–" He tried to cover it up, but my eyes had already fallen onto my mother.

She was tied to a vertical pole over a spit of fire. She was being turned on it like she was just a piece of venison, her screams of pain escaping from her mouth as the flesh burned off her skin.

I gasped, my bread falling to the ground. I think I did, too.

Her tears mixed with her flesh, it melted off, turning pink and charred. It was horrible. What had my sweet mother done to be burned?

Tears fell from my eyes in waves, hitting the ground. "NO." I screamed, running to my mother.

"MOTHER." I yelled again and again, my throat turning raw. Her sobs were unintelligible, her nightdress stuck to her chest, burning with her skin.

"FATHER, DO SOMETHING." I screamed at him, chest heaving as my sobs came in gasping hiccups.

"FATHER." I screamed, pulling at him with my newfound strength.

My father stared down at me with eyes that were as lifeless as my mother was soon to be. "Stop, Ophelia"

"YOU STOP." My voice broke as he pushed me away. He stared at me with ice eyes as he said the unthinkable: "She deserves it, child. So you will stop with this madness before I drag you inside." He growled.

"NO SHE DOESN'T Y- YOU–" I didn't finish my sentence. I punched him and kicked him, kneeing him in the groin.

He let out a grunt of pain, hissing. "Guards, take her away." He snarled.

"SOMEONE, DO SOMETHING." I begged, falling to my knees and hugging the legs of the king and the guards.

The king stared down at me like I was a maggot. "P– PLEASE, YOUR MAJESTY. S– S– STOP THIS."

"Do what Lord Kallias said." The king looked away from me, staring at my dying mother. His eyes were hateful, filled with boredom.

I ran away from the king, searching for someone else to beg to.

And then I saw Alaric.

"ALARIC, Y– YOU HAVE TO LET HER GO." I screamed, rushing to him and falling to my knees.

He stared at me with furrowed brows, but before he could answer, the guards grabbed me, dragging me away.

They had to do something, had to stop killing her. How could they just stand there, watching as an innocent woman burned. How could they kill a mother, a daughter, a sister. How could they?

"PLEASE." I choked on my sobs, breaking down. "DO SOMETHING." I yelled at them all.

The guards picked me up like I was a sack of grain, taking me from my mother. "LET ME DOWN." I punched at them, slapped them, raked my nails across their faces, but they still wouldn't let me down.

"P- please." I whispered, my arms failing as I stared at my mother. She wasn't screaming anymore. They'd died down, turning into silence. Now, the only sounds heard were my sobs and the crackle of the fire.

I sniffled, wiping my nose on the guard's shoulder as my eyelids slowly fell.

Crying was tiring. Hurting was tiring. And being tired was tiring.

I shut my eyes. Maybe, just maybe, it was all a bad nightmare. I would wake up in my mother's arms, she would hold me and let me lay in her comforting hold as I told her about this horrid nightmare.

And then the world would go on as it was supposed to go on. With my mother in it.