A sweet lullaby for the broken soul

The Next Day... 

Morning light poured through the high arched windows, creating golden rays on the plush carpets and gleaming marble floors. The atmosphere, filled with a delicate floral fragrance and warmth, was a stark contrast to the darkness of cabin. There were no spider webs in the corners, no deteriorating walls, and no persistent odor of mildew. Just silence. Too much silence.

Serena stirred in her sleep, her small body shifting ever so slightly. Beneath her, the surface felt strange: soft, warm, almost like it was holding her. Not the cold, unforgiving stone floor she was used to. This wasn't the scratchy straw or the icy stone of the cabin. No, this felt like… clouds. Gentle, quiet, unfamiliar. Her brows twitched in confusion, even before her eyes opened.

A thick quilt, embroidered with silvery vines and lined with satin, was tucked loosely around her. Her fingers grazed the fabric. Too soft. Too unfamiliar.

She opened her eyes, slowly. The brightness stabbed into her pupils, a searing contrast to the dim cabin she'd spent her whole life in. She squinted, her breath caught. Her vision swam before it focused, elegant wallpaper, silver-framed mirrors, shelves with porcelain dolls she didn't recognize.

Panic set in.

"Where… Where this?"

Her heart pounded violently against her ribs. A tightness gripped her chest, stealing her breath. Panic surged through her veins as her legs kicked away the unfamiliar covers. Her bare feet met the polished floor with a soft thud as she slipped from the bed, instinctively crouching low, her trembling hands pressed to the ground.

Her wide, frightened eyes darted around the bright room.

Am I back there?

The thought pierced her like a blade. The mansion… the one where Mother took me… where they took my powers…

Her stomach twisted.

Are they going to do it again?

She looked around for something that she can use to kill herself.

Then she remembered.

The forest. The strangers. The glowing portals. The soft-spoken woman. The tall man with sad eyes. The pain in her limbs.

They brought me here...

Her stomach groaned. The sound startled her. She pressed her small hand to her belly. It's been few days since she ate. She doesn't even remember. Her gaze landed on full-length mirror.

The reflection staring back at her was different. Her long pink hairs were clean and untangled. They flowed gently on her shoulder. Her face was no longer stained with blood and dirt. It was clean. She was no longer wearing dirty rag that made her skin itchy. Instead she was wearing clean plain white dress that clung loosely to her skin. Her injuries were clean and strange papers were wrapped around her arms, elbow, stomach, head, thighs and legs.

She touched her face. Is it me? She wondered. She was always dirty and smelly. Her mom, dad and maids hate her for being dirty. The memory struck hard—her mother gripping her hair, dragging her across the floor. The sharp sting of a belt on bare skin.

She pressed her hands to her ears, trying to block it out.

KNOCK

The door opened and Tristan walked in slowly.

"Little baby" He called her in softest voice.

Serena froze.

"No... No! Nooo beat!" Her voice cracked as she bolted toward the space between the bed and the floor, crawling underneath like a scared animal. Her knees drew to her chest. Her thin arms wrapped around them. She shook. Hard. The memories of her getting beaten and taking power rushed in her mind. It made her more anxious and scared.

He walked slowly towards the bed and crouched near it. "Baby, don't be scared," he whispered. "I won't hurt you. I'm your real father... and you're my sweetest baby."

The moment she heard the word father, something inside her cracked. Her breath caught, chest rising and falling too fast. Father? Her mind recoiled. She already had a father, didn't she? One who never smiled, who stared at her like she was a sin he regretted. If this man was father too… would he hurt her the same way? Would he hit her when she cried? Suck the powers in her with rituals and chains? Her fingers clutched at her chest as if to keep her heart from bursting apart under the confusion.

"Don't be scared, baby," Tristan said. He took a slow step forward and stretched his hand to touch her. But her body acted faster than thought. She scrambled backward, terror in every trembling limb, squeezing herself between the bed and the floor. Her eyes were wide, glazed with fear, her entire frame shaking like a leaf caught in a storm. Tristan froze and lowered is hand.

"I'm sorry, baby… I should've been more careful," he whispered, voice breaking with guilt.

She glanced up at him—hesitant, brief and saw only sorrow in his face. His eyes were wet, full of something she didn't recognize. It made her more frightened. People didn't cry when they looked at her. They cursed her, hit her. So why was he crying? It didn't make sense. Was it a trick? She quickly lowered her head again, burying it in her knees, curling inward like she always did. Because if he was like the others… it would begin soon. The pain. The hate. She continued trembling in fear.

He left the room. Minutes later, he returned with a silver tray. The aroma of warm food spread across the room. The tray had bowl of rice, egg omlette and meat. A plate that had sauce and differemt types of meat. A warm soup in a another bowl. A glass of hot choclate and bread. He keep the food tray near her and spoke in soft voice, "You must be hungry baby. I brought you food to eat. And special drink, hot chocolate with marshmellows. Kids love it."

He quietly stepped out of the room, leaving her curled in silence. Minutes later, the door creaked open again. This time, the rich aroma of warm food drifted in with him. In his hands, he carried a polished silver tray, steam rising gently from the dishes. A bowl of fluffy white rice sat beside a perfectly folded egg omelet, golden and tender. Slices of seasoned meat rested in savory sauce, their scent mouthwatering. A small bowl of fragrant soup, still steaming, accompanied a plate of soft bread. At the center, a glass of hot chocolate shimmered, its surface crowned with melted marshmallows. He placed the tray near her slowly, kneeling with care. "You must be hungry, baby," he said softly. "I brought some food for you… and something special...hot chocolate with marshmallows. Most children love it."

The little girl stared at the tray. Her stomach grumbled loud enough to echo in the silence, but she didn't dare reach for the food. The aroma of warm soup and grilled meat made her eyes sting. She was so hungry it hurt. Days had passed since her last meal. Her meals had always been meager, tasteless things. Two pieces of stale bread. A glass of water, sometimes cloudy. Anything more would earn her a beating. Greed was a sin, her parents said. And sinners deserved pain. But this food… this food looked like the kind she'd seen served to her mother's friends—adults who left smiling after draining her powers.

Tristan saw her hesitation and offered a faint, sorrowful smile. "I'll leave, baby," he whispered gently, standing. "So you won't be scared. Eat as much as you want, alright? I won't hit you. I won't scold you. I promise." And just like that, he turned and left, closing the door behind him with a quiet click.

She watched him go. His words echoed in her ears, strange and unfamiliar. They all said sweet things before hurting her. Why would he be different? She was a cursed child. A thief of powers. A sinner undeserving of love. If she touched the food, surely she'd pay for it.

Her stomach growled again, louder this time. Two full hours passed before she dared to move. Crawling slowly on all fours like a scared animal, she approached the tray. Her small hands shook as she grabbed the spoon. And then, as if driven by pure survival, she devoured everything—shoveling rice and meat into her mouth so quickly she began choking. She coughed, gasped, but kept going. The fear of it being taken away was stronger than the pain. When she reached the hot chocolate, she lifted the glass with both hands and gulped it down, the warm, creamy sweetness shocking her senses. Her eyes widened. It was the most delicious water she'd ever tasted.

The rich, creamy taste combined with sweet melted marshmellows caught her off guard. It filled her mouth with a warmth and sweeteness. She never drank something like this.

The door creaked. She dropped the glass, scrambled back beneath the bed, heart hammering. Tristan entered slowly.

He saw the empty tray. She stared at him, eyes wide in terror. Ready for punishment. His lips quivered.

"It's okay, baby," he said softly. "I'm here to take the tray. Would you like to hear a lullaby?"

She didn't answer. Just stared. He sat on the bed and began to hum.

"Close my eyes, my little star. 

Let the night take you afar.

In the sky so calm and bright,

Daddy's here to hold you tight.

Close your eyes, my precious child.

Everything will be alright.

In my arms, you're safe and warm,

I'll protect you through the night."

Seren's eyes were getting heavy by listening to lullaby. Her breathing slowed. The tension in her shoulders faded. She stopped trembling and laid on floor.

"No more fear, no more pain,

I'll keep you safe, I'll keep you sane.

With all my love, I'll hold you tight,

You'll never be hurt again."

She slept peacefully. Then gently, ever so gently, Tristan picked her up, laid her on the bed, and tucked her in. He didn't leave for a long time. He just sat there, watching his daughter sleep "Sleep my princess, I will take away all your pain."