Prologue

Prologue

When I was a child, I enjoyed listening to my mother's stories. Portraying the never-ending struggle between darkness and light. I would always look forward to her stories, which would be very entertaining. She always told me darkness represents malevolence, while light represents positivity and virtue. Her belief was that the power of light was the sole means by which darkness could be defeated. The resounding message she would consistently convey in her stories is that light will perpetually prevail over the darkness.

"Don't worry, Alassandra, light always wins," she would tell me, kissing my forehead and wrapping me in blankets.

Now that she's gone, I miss those stories.

As I reflect on my upbringing, one of the most prominent memories I have is observing my father, who had a career as a lawyer. Dedicating countless hours to his work, often working late into the night. In all of Moro County, my father worked for one of the most well-respected law firms. Given the widespread speculation about his unmatched talent, it came as no surprise that they gave him all the captivating cases, so to speak.

Within our small town, my mother had ownership of an herbal store. While she also worked hard, it was my father's career that truly captivated my interest. One of my biggest aspirations as a child was to grow up and be exactly like him. He was my idol, and I was unwavering in my commitment to walk the same path as him. I can proudly say that during my academic journey, I consistently worked hard and gave my all, resulting in me consistently earning top grades. Because I was determined to make my father proud.

When I was ten, my father assumed the responsibility of a massive case requiring him to be on the road often. It wasn’t until around summer that I overheard my parents arguing about something that my mother called “The Valerious.”

When I approached them with my inquiry, they responded by silencing me and advising me to erase any recollection of what I had just heard. I was determined to find out what was happening, so I snooped around and found a file in my father’s briefcase with the word “Valerious” written on it. Just as I had taken the file to my room and concealed it under my mattress, my father's voice echoed through the house, summoning me downstairs.

"Alassandra Khairi, come down, sweetheart," my father called.

"Coming!" I yelled as I closed my bedroom door and rushed downstairs.

"Yes, father," I said as I entered the living room.

"Ahhh, there she is," he replied with a smile as he walked over, took my hand, and led me to the couch.

As I glanced over, I realized that my mother, who rarely exhibited such a serious demeanor, was standing by the fireplace with a grave expression on her face. I was so engrossed in deciphering my mother's expression that I completely missed the woman standing in the corner of the living room.

"Who is she?" I asked my father as we sat down. My father smiled and patted my head as he gestured for the woman and my mother to take a seat. As soon as they did, my father began to explain.

"Your mother and I wanted to tell you in person rather than in a note like we normally would that we have to go away for a while for work purposes," he said.

I furrowed my brows in confusion. My parents never traveled for work together. My father always would leave, and my mother would stay with me.

"Why are both of you going?" I asked.

He glanced at my mother and replied, "Your mother has to help me with this case.".

I turned to look at her, and at first, I thought I saw a faint hint of fear in her eyes, but as quickly as I saw it, it disappeared.

"Mother, who will watch me?" I asked her, placing my hand on top of hers.

With a smile on her face, my mother turned her attention towards the woman who was seated on the other couch. The woman's hair, a beautiful shade of silver, was skillfully braided into a neat French braid, complementing her bright green eyes that gleamed against her creamy white skin. Her pink pouty lips were beautifully accentuated by a small smile, while her attire, comprising black leather pants, a tight black shirt, and a long black coat, exuded an air of sophistication. In the dimly lit room, her nails stood out with their deep maroon polish, while her jewelry shimmered and caught the eye. There was a certain aura about her that radiated confidence and grace.

"This is Yadhira. She will be taking care of you while we are away," my mother replied. I turned and looked at Yadhira. She smiled politely as she spoke.

"Hello, Alassandra, my dear. It is nice to finally meet you," she said. The woman's green eyes stared into my hazel brown eyes, and as I looked into them, they seemed to glow.

I smiled at her and returned my attention to my parents.

"When will you return?" I asked.

"As soon as we can," my mother replied, her voice trembling. "I love you so much," she added as she hugged me.

As the night grew darker, my parents enlightened me with a captivating story that explored the themes of light and darkness. They expressed to me that the light holds significance as a symbol of hope, while the dark carries connotations of fear. They assured me that regardless of the circumstances, I would always have the opportunity to return to the light.

"We love you very much, Alassandra. No matter what happens, always remember we are with you," my father said as he kissed my forehead before he left my room, leaving me with my mother.

As my mother approached my bedside, I noticed she had a small wooden box in her hands. I watched as she sat beside me on the bed and opened the box, taking out a silver necklace.

"What's that?" I asked her.

A warm smile spread across my mother's face. My intention was to wait until your eighteenth birthday to give this to you. “It is an amethyst moon pentacle.” As she leaned closer to me, there was a brief pause, during which she gently pulled my golden-brown hair aside before delicately tying it around my neck. “It is a symbol of protection and guidance.” It will help guide and protect you when I am not with you. “I want you to assure me you will never take it off?”.

I nodded. "I promise," I replied as I grabbed the pendant and looked at it.

My mother smiled as she kissed my forehead and walked toward the door. Before walking out, she turned, "I will always be with you, Alassandra; never forget that. And never forget what I have told you about the light and darkness,". She said with sadness in her voice.

Once she had departed, I made it a point to stay awake long enough to be able to hear when my father and mother left. As soon as the sound of the car starting reached my ears, I quickly leaped out of bed and hastily made my way to the window. My eyes were fixed on them, observing their every move as they skillfully maneuvered their vehicle out of the driveway, disappearing from my view as they drove away.

As the darkness enveloped the night, my mind wandered into a realm of nightmares. Where the unthinkable unfolded - the violent demise of my beloved parents. I was abruptly awakened, feeling a jarring sensation that was accompanied by a chilly sweat, a racing heartbeat, and an uncontainable flood of tears streaming down my face. As I reluctantly pulled myself out of bed, the unexpected sound of the doorbell ringing startled me.

I rushed downstairs to see two men dressed in all-black suits. They had creamy white skin and bright green eyes. I hid behind the stairs as I heard the men say, "They didn't make it. They were ripped apart".

"Was there no saving them?" Yadhira asked.

"Not this time," one of the men said. Then he asked, "The child?"

"She sleeps," Yadhira replied.

"She seems awake to me," the other guy responded as he gestured in my direction.

As I peeked behind the staircase, Yadhira's voice called out, "Alassandra, come, child."

I walked out from behind the stairs and stared at all of them.

"Come, child, we must leave. It is no longer safe to be here," Yadhira said as she approached me and gently took my hand.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"Somewhere where neither light nor darkness can sense you," Yadhira replied as she led me out of the house.

Back then, I had absolutely no idea about the implications and significance of what that meant. In that moment, I painfully realized that I could never return to the place I once called home. The only things I had left were faint memories of my father and the stories my mother had shared with me.

As I have grown older and gained more life experience, I have come to acknowledge that some truth was embedded in the stories my mother used to tell. Despite everything, a lingering thought continues to occupy my mind. Could they deliberately distort those stories to hide the harsh reality that awaited me? And what if I was at the centerfold?