Prologue

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I love you. No regrets, no worries, because you were worth everything... Be safe, my love. Find happiness. And when the time comes, I will be waiting by the banks of the river of oblivion.

-Merenwen

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Run.

Her faltering, struggling breath panted the words with each push of her aching lungs.

Run faster.

The steam of her breath as it hit the night air seemed to his the words as it dissipated into the sky.

Run harder.

Rivulets of sweat dripped down her back, tracing the words in salty paths across her skin.

Run farther.

The words were echoed in the cadence of feet hitting pavement, an incessant, drumming chant that surrounded her as she pushed forward through the dim light.

Run away.

Run away.

Run away.

She ran, arms pumping, legs straining, soles throbbing more with each and every step. She forced herself to run, to run for her forfeit life. To run faster, run harder, run farther, in the hope that the little life she’d left behind, the little life she’d hidden away, the little life she would – no, had – willingly given her life for. It was this thought that gave her the fortitude to go on: she was lost, she had lost hope. But her child – she could live just a little longer, somehow find the energy to take just one more step, turn just one more corner, if it meant that she could lead these heartless killers a single step or a single corner farther from her flesh and blood.

A sharp jolt of pain laced up her side. Gasping, she staggered into a wall, a hand on the mottled burn running across her abdomen. No,her mind ordered. No, no, keep going! She drew a rasping breath, stumbling on through the alley. Another step, just one more. Now another, another. Just a little farther. Just one more step. She took another step, and stopped.

As she backed away, she slipped on the slick walk, falling to her knees. When had it started raining? She hadn’t noticed. Odd, how she’d missed that, but now seemed to see every detail in the minutest focus – every pockmark and discoloration on the aged brick wall, how each raindrop broke into twelve smaller droplets as it hit the earth, the billowing black cloaks of the two men, the sadistic glee arcing in their eyes as they advanced.

One leaned down to her. “Shhh… sweetheart. We’ve cordoned off the area. The Muggles can’t hear us - No one’s coming for you.” He smiled – a twisted curving of his thin lips.

She hadn’t thought her heart could speed up any further, but it did.

The other scowled. “Don’t mess around, Smith. Make sure it’s really the Elf.” His voice was colder, and he spoke with authority.

Mirroring the scowl, Smith leered at the woman sprawled against the wall. “Merenwen Seragón?” He turned back, “I’m sure this is her. She’s even prettier than in the picture.” His finger traced her jaw line.

“Don’t forget the objective.”

“Yes, sir.” He looked into her eyes, whispering, “Don’t worry, darling. We’re only supposed to kill you.”

She spat in his face.

“Bitch,” he yelped. The back of his hand smashed against her cheek, and her head met the wall with a resounding crash. Merenwen whimpered, no longer caring how pathetic it sounded. Curling into a ball, she tried to shield herself from the ensuing kicks, to her kidneys, her back, her face. The blood running from her nose mixed from the blood she coughed.

“Enough,” the cold one demanded. He pointed his wand at the gasping woman. “We’re here to leave a message, nothing more.” A shriek of agony and despair tore from her throat as she felt skin, muscle, bone torn apart, leaving a claret-weeping crimson signature engraved across her chest. The mark of the serpent, in a grotesque circle, eating its own tail.

She looked lost, almost confused, as she gazed at the gushing, sanguine wound. Her eyes rose to meet theirs, carrying both reproach and defiance. Blood dripped from the corner of her mouth. Her eyes slipped shut, almost sleepily.

“My love…,” Merenwen breathed. “My love, be…”

The street was silent, even the patter of the rain seeming to cease for just a moment, in grief and respect for the blood pooling on the cement.

“Merenwen?” The voice came from the darkness, a question, a call. The voice came closer. “Merenwen, darling? Merenwen!” There were hints of panic.

“Merenwen?” Discovery.

“Merenwen.” Disbelief.

“Merenwen!” Despair.

A single tear fell from each eye, one for sorrow, one for loss. He closed his lover’s eyes, face twisted with anger, hate, madness. He swept away into the darkness.

He found them easily. They hadn’t the ability to hide – not from him. Screams pierced the night air, over and over again, blending with relentless curses and unheeded pleas for mercy, a discordant medley of pain marked by the flash of red curses.

***

Miles away, a baby cried.

A/N: Thanks for reading :D. If you like it, please review.

~Echo + Kibou