"Have you killed someone?"

"Yes, I have. It wasn't easy."

"Was he or she a tough opponent?"

The man with the dark brown hair looked at the nine-year-old girl that stood in front of him. They had finished training with the knives, and after every lesson, she would ask him about his life before she was born. She was always very curious and wanted to know everything.

"I'm not talking about strength or technique." He patted the space next to him and looked at her with his hazel eyes.

How could he explain that killing someone was like killing a small part of your soul?

He had trained his daughter from the moment she could walk. He gave her the first knife when she was five. The girl with the inquiring eyes was special. She was The Huntress. That was what the gods had decided.

He knew it from the night he found out about her existence. A mysterious figure arrived in his dreams and told him that the child would save the world. However, there was a price. Her soul would be scarred forever, and she would always walk alongside death and insanity.

"Then what? What makes killing so difficult?"

"Killing someone requires having a strong soul or not having one. Every time you take a life, a part of your soul cracks like a mirror. You may not realize it, but as time passes, the cracks on your soul are getting bigger and more prominent."

"And what happens if the cracks are too big? Can a soul break?"

He sighed and cupped her face. "I don't know. The line between light and darkness is very thin. Only one spark, one last crack is enough to destroy everything."

A sad smile formed as he stared at her features. What would those eyes see? What would those strong, muscled arms do?

The girl didn't speak, waiting to hear more on the subject. Her mother had told her many times that she was special, and she trained every day.

They lived in a cabin in the middle of the forest, and her only friend, Thomas, lived hundreds of miles away. She was lonely, but when she had those conversations with her father, everything changed. He was wise and caring. Sometimes she felt that he knew things about her. Things that whose existence was a secret for her.

Her mother had called her "huntress" one day, but the meaning of it wasn't revealed. All she knew was that she had to train, to never falter, to always be ready for an attack because those were dangerous times and she had to be prepared.

"I don't know if a soul can break, but it can become weak, dark, twisted. Once the last part of it turns dark, then I believe that no one can save it."

"How do I know that my soul has turned black?"

"You cannot understand what is right or wrong. Life will have no colors and no scents. You will not feel love or pain because everything will feel the same."

"Dad, I don't want to have a dark soul," she whispered, and her lips trembled.

"You won't. You are strong, and you can overcome everything."

"You don't know that. You don't know the future."

He laughed. The laughter was bitter, almost silent. "You are right. But I believe in you. When everything is turning dark, you must look at the light. Always follow the light. Focus on the beautiful things that life has to offer and grab them. Do you understand?"

She nodded. "I'll follow the light. I promise, dad."

He hugged her and buried his face in her hair, trying to give hope to his soul. She would make it. She had to survive. Laurel had to follow the light.

Someone screamed her name many times, but she didn't listen.

A memory had appeared, bringing sadness. How could she have forgotten his words?

"I don't want to break my soul," she cried.

"Laurel!"

She turned her head and looked in the direction of the voice. Everything looked white, ordinary, and meaningless.

The man came running to her and fell on his knees in front of her.

"What happened? I felt your pain and tried to locate you. What-"

He looked at the body next to them and recognized Asher.

Closing his eyes for a second, he exhaled. "I'm so sorry." He reached for her hand and barely touched it before she took it away.

"Your hands are frozen." He looked at her in surprise. She was different. Her eyes were black, but it wasn't the color of grief. It was the color of death.

She stared at his green eyes, and a memory came. Those eyes had mesmerized her once in a café.

"I know you," she said.

"Of course you do. We are mates." He narrowed his eyes and studied her face for a few seconds.

Her face twitched slightly as another memory came.

"Your lips." She put her hand on hers, trying to remember how his lips felt on hers. She looked at her fingertips in horror. Her whole face was dripped in blood; her hair was soaked in it.

"Follow the light," a tiny voice in her head said.

"Laurel, please. . . . " the voice of the man in front of her pleaded.

"I have to do something," she murmured.

He put his hands on each side of her face and made her look at him.

"Laurel, focus! I'm not going to lose you. Dive into your soul and your memories, but please come back." He shook her hard as he said the last words.

Another memory came. They were in the forest, smiling, watching the birds singing. She felt safe in his arms, and his touch was full of life.

Something moved in her soul, and then everything fell together like pieces of a puzzle.

"Oh my god!" She gasped and felt like she could breathe again. "I don't know what happened. My father was right. I must follow the light. Oh my god!" She panted.

"You are back. That's what matters."

She shook her head. "No, it's not enough."

She looked at the moon. It seemed as if hours had passed since the battle had started, but it wasn't real. Everything moved painfully slow, but now she was back. Her father had told her to follow the light, and she did. James was her light.

"Stand up." She sliced her palm with her claws, and immediately the scar on James' palm appeared. She grabbed it, making sure that their scars touched each other.

"No matter what happens, you won't leave my hand," she ordered.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm following the light."

She closed her eyes and called for nature to help her and give her strength. She focused on the energy inside her and said the words the elder witch had said two nights ago.

"I ask for the powerful gods to break this bond,

"A life was taken for two people to survive,

"Let the bond be broken,

"So we shall live."

There was an explosion of light and a deafening sound. They felt as someone was pulling them apart, but they never let their hands separate. Everything lasted a second, and then nothing was heard, except for the sounds of the battle.

"Did it work?"

"Only one way to find it out." He let his claws extend and sliced the other palm.

They waited, but nothing happened. Laurel's hand was intact.

They smiled relieved, and they shared a knowing look.

"There is still time," she said.

"Go."

She looked at him one more time and ran toward her mother. She heard a woman's muffled scream and instantly recognized Sara's voice.

There were no knives in her belt, and the dha swords were long gone during the battle. She didn't care because she was a weapon.

Her mother was in the center of the sacrifice circle. The symbols of each species were designed on the ground and rocks around the place showed where everything started and ended.

Laurel saw a dead woman on the ground near her. She didn't recognize her, so she suspected it was the witch from Ada's village. Opposite her was a stranger's body.

"I couldn't get my hands on your vampire, so I had to use one of Charles' soldiers."

"Charles is dead." If her mother felt something, her face showed nothing.

Zach and Sara were tied in two opposite corners. Their mouths were taped up shut, and only groans and muffled words escaped. Her mother had cast a spell on them, and they couldn't move at all.

She wore a long, dark purple dress that left her arms in plain sight, showing her scars proudly.

"Surrender."

Instead of an answer or an action, Laurel received a burst of cold laughter.

She noticed the golden necklace three meters away from her. Zach was trying to say something, but the spell made it difficult to move.

Looking at the necklace, she decided that she wouldn't destroy it. Its power was useful to her as well.

"I surrender to no one. Now, since you came, you will have to see the rest of the sacrifice."

Laurel raised her hand, the palm facing her mother. She wanted to inflict tremendous pain on her, to make her fall on her knees, to make her whole body spasm. And then, she would kill her.

"It's over, mother," she said and let the power build and explode in her direction.

This time, she didn't need the ancient power or black magic to achieve the energy she needed. She was strong, and she knew what she was capable of.

Zach's agonizing look was the last thing she saw before she felt her brain exploding, and she heard someone screaming in pain.

"Foolish girl, you have no idea what you did. You are so good, but you let your emotions cloud your judgment."

She couldn't see anything, and her head was spinning dangerously.

"Lyra, what's happening?"

"I don't know, but it's bad. Something is very wrong."

A feeling of a huge power was falling on her, and her body was on fire. Then, it hit her. The screams belonged to her. She managed to open her eyes and looked around. Her mother had turned away and was heading toward Zach.

She tried to stand, but a sharp pain she had never felt before made her fall to the ground. She put her hand under her nose and wiped the fresh blood that was licking. A slow, warm liquid was running on her thighs. Putting her hand in one of them, she touched blood. Blood was running down, and only a thought filled her mind.

"My baby. What did I do?"

Zach's eyes were screaming, but they weren't afraid of the upcoming of death. He was worried about the broken, full of blood body that was now his friend.

"I protected myself with a spell. Every spell pointed at me returns to the one who has created it. I couldn't use the orange stone this time, and I believed that you would try to kill me from a safe distance."

"Stop it," she whispered. Her body was wreckage.

"Why is no one coming to help me?" she thought, but she knew the answer. Everyone was counting on her, and they were in the battle, fighting the army. The bond between her and James was gone, so he didn't know what was happening to her.

She had failed everyone, but the end hadn't come yet. She started crawling, feeling the blood on her thighs increasing and her muscles screaming in pain with every movement.

Her mother was finishing the third part of the spell, and the knife was in her hands, its blade looking at Zach's neck.

Laurel pushed more and screamed in agony as she ordered her body to oblige.

"One more meter," she thought. "One more."

Putting all her strength on her palms, she tried to lift her body and grab her mother's leg in an attempt to make her lose her balance. She couldn't see anything but Zach's immobile body and the dress of her enemy.

She extended her arm and grabbed the left leg. Grabbing it hardly, she heard a sound of annoyance. She screamed more in pain as her mother moved her wrist and broke her ribs.

Her right hand moved to her belly as if trying to stop the inevitable, and the other was trying to delay the death of her friend.

"It's over, Laurel. I won," the voice said, and Zach's body fell in front of her.