Chapter 47: Chapter 47

KAMORA

^ABOUT TEN YEARS AGO^

“The capital?” she asked, looking both scared and hopeful.

“Yes,” Lord Maroke replied, his answer seeming like a shrug. “I have a feeling that you will cope better there.”

Kamora stood there, the probability of leaving for a better place more tempting than she’d like to admit. But she couldn’t just easily leave her family, no matter how horrid they were to her.

“Thank you so much for the offer, my lord,” she said finally, her reply squeezing her chest. “But I’d have to decline your offer. I can’t just leave my family.”

Lord Maroke nodded, looking back at the documents he was studying before she had come in earlier.

“No problem then,” he said.

She took it as a dismissal and quickly walked out of the room.

Kamora had gone home that day feeling a bit happy. The fact that Lord Maroke had gone out of his way to ask her to come to his manor meant a lot to her, even though she knew he didn’t see it that way.

The capital. She had never imagined going there, not that she even had the opportunity to.

Working in her family had burdened her so much that the thought of escaping never crossed her mind. She wondered why that was.

Reaching the threshold of her house dampened her happy mood. But for some reason, at the back of her mind, she knew that she had a second option.

Even though Lord Maroke had not left his request open, she would beg him if she had to.

The first sign that something was strange hit her when she noticed the unnatural silence. She wanted to call out for everyone, but held back instead, opting to check every corner of the house to see if it was safe.

She was nearing the last room in their little home, the empty walls of the living room seeming like a loud warning telling her to run. But Kamora was young, and the instinct she had didn’t prepare her for what came next.

Upon opening the door, she was instantly hit on the head, the attack sending her to the floor, unconscious.

The last thing she felt was serious regret about not following Lord Maroke.

***

When she woke up, she found herself in a dimly lit room, the environment charged with something heavy, evil. She heard voices but could hardly make them out.

Her eyesight was still blurry.

“There is a way to improve your powers,” she heard finally, recognizing the tone as her father’s, and something about the way he spoke made her blood run cold.

“You must never practice this in public though. It can get you killed.”

“Why do we need her then?” she heard Gwen ask. Kamora’s fear plunged deeper.

“Her mother is a whore. She was born from the union of a plant Fae and a male witch. Hopefully her witch’s blood will be useful for us, seeing as she has no talent, magic, or whatsoever.”

Witch? she wondered. What was he talking about?

She heard their footsteps coming closer to her and she reflexively closed her eyes, not wanting them to know she was awake. Still, something must have prompted them, because she instantly felt something injected in her that caused her to pass out.

She woke up later, not knowing how long she had spent unconscious. Upon opening her eyes, she found that she wasn’t in the strange room any longer, but rather in hers.

She tried standing up, wincing at the flash of pain that passed through her head.

“You are finally awake,” a voice called out from next to her.

She looked to her side to see Gwen looking unnaturally concerned for her.

“What happened to me?” Kamora asked.

“I should be asking you! We found you lying on the floor, unconscious. Fortunately, Father was able to bring a doctor just in time to save you,” Gwen said.

Though her head still hurt, Kamora used the opportunity to study Gwen. Her sister, as usual, looked not a hair out of place, her green hair packed in two long braids that lay by each side of her shoulder.

She wore a simple blue dress with long sleeves, and a nearly white apron with what looked like bloodstains just by the side of her left breast. Kamora would have almost been deceived by her acting, had she not seen for herself the proof of their evil deed.

From the conversation she overheard, her father and sister had used her blood to improve their powers. She never knew something so diabolical could be done, even by plant Fae.

Things like that were always associated with witches. And that brought her to her second realization.

The person she considers her father really isn’t the one who birthed her. She finally understood his deep disgust for her, and why he had always treated her horribly.

What she couldn’t understand, though, was why he went through all that trouble to raise another man’s child—one who has witch’s blood, no less. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that it wasn’t only to punish her mother.

After what they had done to her, she realized that the man who raised her had an even more evil plan in mind. Her blood was of use to him, and he planned on draining her to improve his powers.

Heaven knew just how long he had been doing such things to her.

“Are you really okay? Do you need some help?” Gwen said, breaking her out of her musings.

Kamora looked at her, letting the suspicion show in her eyes. “I am fine, thank you.”

As if realizing that she had probably overacted as a kind sister, Gwen stood straight, her normal distaste back on her face. She then walked out of the room without a word, shutting the door hard behind her and causing Kamora to flinch and groan in pain.

She had made her decision. Now that she had found out her true purpose in that house, and having discovered that she was in no way related to any of them, she had nothing binding her to that family either.

They had only ever seen her as a sacrificial pig, and this time, she was fed up. Never again.

She was going to leave.

She waited until it was night. No one would be up by then, and even if they were, they wouldn’t bother about her, she hoped.

Her home was dark, not a single candle lit, but she found no problem as she was used to the darkness. While the other rooms had light and were kept warm, hers was always dark and cold.

Today would be the last day she’d suffer this fate. At least while working in Lord Maroke’s mansion, she’d have a warm place to stay.

Her footsteps were silent, blending perfectly with the quiet. She touched the walls of the house to find her footing, praying to the heavens that she didn’t make a noise or step on something.

Fortunately, she was able to find the entrance, and so she gently opened the door locks, doing so very slowly so as not to make a sound. When she was done, she opened the door quietly, tiptoed outside, and then shut the door behind her.

“What are you doing?”

She had barely taken a step around when she felt her father behind her. She gulped, her hands suddenly clammy with fear.

She put on a brave face and turned to look at the man who had raised her all her life. He had streaks of gray lined up in his hair, and under his eyes were wrinkles that seemed permanently etched into his face.

As usual, as she had only ever seen him, his face was in a scowl as he looked at her, and his eyes were filled with scorn, distaste, and suspicion.

Kamora racked her brain on what to say, wondering if she should lie or not. Finally, she settled on telling the truth.

She would be punished anyway.

“I am leaving,” she said.

Her father stared at her blankly, probably wondering if she was joking with him.

Seeing that she wasn’t, his eyes widened a fraction. Before Kamora could even react, he flashed a vine toward her, sending it straight for her throat.

The dry branch squeezed her tightly, choking her, and she grasped onto it, trying desperately to release it from her neck, but it proved futile.

“You must have been awake then,” her father said, his voice extremely cold. “It is strange that you suddenly want to run away.”

Kamora beat against the vine, her skin breaking against its rough bark. She had to do something or else she’d die there.

She slowly looked around, her vision turning blurry. Unfortunately, she couldn’t find anything that she could use to her advantage.

“You really are an ungrateful brat. After taking care of you all this while, this is how you intend to pay me?”

Kamora would have laughed if she wasn’t choking on her own breath.

“Ungrateful?” she managed to say, wheezing. “I would have been ungrateful if you had been a proper father. You are far from it. The worst. I have always wondered why you kept me, and now that I know, I refuse to be kept here any longer.”

“We will see about that,” he said, the vine squeezing tighter against her throat.

Kamora could feel herself slowly slipping into unconsciousness, but she refused to relent, still squeezing hard against the vine at her neck.

Her father slowly approached her, his steps predatory.

“Even if I have to keep you barely alive, as long as you still bleed, you aren’t going anywhere.”

Knowing that fighting against the vine was in vain, Kamora started stretching her hands out, hoping she could find a weapon to use against him.

As if realizing what she intended to do, the man raised her higher in the air. Kamora started panicking, her eyesight turning blurry.

She squeezed and fought hard against the vine, cutting herself with it. As she pressed tightly against it, trying yet unable to release it, she hoped with everything in her that this man would burn.

Him and everything with him.

She had suffered under his care for so long. Was she destined to continue living an unfortunate life?

She hoped he would burn. Burn.

She opened her eyes to the smell of smoke, her eyes going wide as she took in the flames dancing in front of her.

The vines choking her had caught fire, slowly releasing her from their tight hold.

Her father stared in shock as the fire rapidly danced down the vine toward him.

Yet, even as he retracted, causing Kamora to fall heavily to the ground, it was too late.

The fire had spread to him, catching his hand aflame.

Even as he waved it wildly, it never went out. The fire danced and roasted his skin.

His screams were horrifying, the fear surrounding him palpable.

He ran toward the house, hoping something inside could quench the fire. But from the agitated shout he let out, Kamora knew it was in vain.

A crash followed after his shout and everywhere fell silent. For a short while.

Then the screams began.

Kamora dragged her bloodied self far away from the house, watching as thick smoke slowly came out of its windows, making way for the dancing flames which burned everything in their path with glee.

The screams of the people inside were terrifying, horrible. Music to her ears.

And she watched, strangely satisfied at how everything she had ever known burned to the ground before her.