The child's cries rose in volume, a haunting crescendo, while Iliana remained unmoving, anchored to the ground by the weight of the consequences of her actions. What had she done? Swallowing hard, she dragged her heavy feet through the snow until she stood above a small bundle of life buried beneath a lump of death, whom she assumed was the mother.

Their eyes were pinched close, face scrunched up and flushed. The child's wails seemed to echo the poignant reality that, in seeking closure for her grief, she had unwittingly brought pain to another. Invisible claws dug into her chest.

Did she kill their parents in her blind rage? Did she hurt them?

Iliana crouched, pushing away the mother's frozen body with trembling hands to reveal streaks of dried rufous. A strange, fleeting sense of relief eased her tense shoulders after inspecting the infant. Unharmed. Physically, at least.

A sudden gust of wind ruffled her messy auburn strands, and she looked up, realizing the wails had stopped. The moonlight revealed the innocence in the child's eyes—a stark contrast to the brutality that surrounded them. Pale blues that chilled her to the core.

As soon as she noted their dark, quivering lips, Iliana wasted no time picking up the small creature before rushing to the dying fire. Hastily feeding it more wood, she curved her body around the infant, forming a shield from the onslaught of wind and the atrocities of life...and the massacre she'd just committed.

Strangely silent, the child nuzzled closer, burrowing more warmth from her frozen soul. A pang tore through her being. Reluctantly, Iliana unwrapped the tight cocoon. A girl. A heaviness settled over her chest, nearly crushing her ribs.

Did she just condemn this baby to a life like hers?

Her muscles tensed as she wavered between the cold satisfaction of revenge and the warmth of remorse.

Holding the child even tighter, Iliana felt the gravity of her choices. She once stood as a lone figure in her village, a snow-covered graveyard, determined to bring justice to those who had mercilessly snuffed out the lives of her clan. Yet, now, she realized that not only did she feed the endless cycle of retribution, but she'd also helped birth a new avenger. In her unbridled fury, she'd ensured the continuity of bloodshed and vengeance.

Iliana hadn't shed a single tear ever since that fateful night. Hell, she hadn't even wept after stumbling upon the horrific scene. Yet, a solitary lament slipped out, breaking her years of fasting from every feeling but anger.

As the wind howled and the child snoozed, Iliana grappled with the unearthed pandora box of long-buried emotions. Her body shook in silent sobs, the vibrations lulling the infant back into sleep, while her soul, shattered once again, confronted the overwhelming grief she had kept locked away for far too long.

Iliana had considered herself neither vampyr nor human, not even a living being. She was a specter of vengeance, haunting the woods, terrorizing the rogues, and existing solely to eliminate the group she attacked tonight. A phantom with unfinished business and unresolved emotions seeking retribution.

Yet, there she was, amidst a graveyard of her making, returning to life while feeling worse than death.

A mournful melody escaped the confines of Iliana's stoic exterior, melting the ice surrounding her long-forgotten beating organ. Pain, once tightly sealed, erupted like a storm within her. The winter winds carried away the droplets of her weeping soul, leaving her to grapple with its shattered fragments amid the moonlit stillness.

Ghosts, it seemed, could harbor beating hearts.

Word count: 589.

Total word count: 3201.