Chapter Text
The sisters raced through the narrow hallways of the orphanage, their laughter echoing off the cold, stone walls as they made their way toward the dorm area. When they reached the door to their room, Haniyya practically threw it open, the hinges creaking as they burst inside, still giggling.
The room they shared was small and simple, with two narrow beds pushed against opposite walls. Samara flung herself onto her bed, bouncing with the ease of someone who had spent countless hours here, while Haniyya sat at the small, cluttered desk they shared, her brow furrowed in concentration as she began sketching on a scrap of paper, working on a drawing for her sister. Samara’s gaze wandered around the room as she lay back, taking in the familiar surroundings.
The space felt sparse—beige walls that seemed to absorb the light, offering little warmth or personality. Aside from the two beds and the desk, the only real decoration was a collection of Haniyya’s drawings pinned haphazardly to the walls. Some were sketches of places they'd dreamed of visiting, others of animals they'd imagined, but it was the one picture hanging above the desk that caught Samara’s attention.
Amid the modest surroundings, it stood out, not because of its frame or its placement, but because of what it represented. It was the only picture they had of their parents—faded and worn at the edges from years of handling, but still the one image that held their hearts.
8 years ago
The fire crackled and popped in the distance, filling the air with the stench of smoke. Bloodcurdling screams echoed through the chaos, as the air seemed to thrum with the sound of war. Arrows whistled above their heads, some finding their mark with sickening thuds, while others embedded themselves into the walls and trees. The once-thriving village of Asmouth had been reduced to a charred battlefield, the ruins of homes and shops now scattered in piles of rubble. The village’s peaceful days were nothing more than a distant memory.
“We must rush them to safety, now!” a woman’s voice cried out, frantic and urgent. Vanny, her face streaked with soot and tears, clutched two small children in her arms as she sprinted through the carnage. Her heart pounded in her chest, but she kept moving, her eyes darting around for any sign of danger.
Behind her, a man—her husband, Damien—called out. “Vanny, stop!” His voice was thick with desperation, but there was a certain finality in it.
Vanny froze mid-step, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She turned to face him, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. Her hands shook as she glanced at the two children in her arms, their wide, terrified eyes locked on her. They were too young to understand, but Vanny knew that her time was running out.
Damien stared at her for a long moment, his face pale and drawn. He took a step forward, his hand reaching for her, but his gaze flickered to the horizon where the sounds of battle raged on. Finally, he nodded, and together, they turned toward the mouth of a cave hidden in the distance, its dark entrance barely visible beneath the overhanging trees.
As they entered the cool darkness of the cave system, Vanny set the children down on the cold stone floor, her breath shaking. She pulled the glowing blue pendant from around her neck, her fingers trembling as she whispered something unintelligible under her breath. With a deep, shuddering sigh, she placed the pendant around Baby Haniyyah's neck. The soft light of the pendant illuminated the girl's small face, but Vanny’s hands lingered a moment longer, reluctant to let go.
Damien kneeled beside Samara, reaching into his pocket for something small. His fingers closed around a long purple ribbon, and with a steady hand, he tied it onto the baby’s wrist. The ribbon was the same color as the twilight sky—the same shade of purple that had once been Vanny’s favorite. A silent promise, a bond between them. With a final glance at the two children, Damien and Vanny carefully tucked them into the dense underbrush of the cave’s entrance.
The parents shared one last look, filled with both love and sorrow and then they vanished into the chaos. The last time they were ever seen.
. . .
Samara let herself lay and think for a moment as she absentmindedly tied her hair back with the same purple ribbon that Damien had once used to secure it on her tiny wrist. She glanced at Haniyyah, who was sitting across the room, fiddling with the glowing blue pendant around her neck. Her fingers traced the edges, almost as if she were searching for some connection to the past.
"Sam! Sam! Look!" Haniyyah suddenly called out, her voice full of excitement. She hopped up from her seat and bounded over to her sister, a bright smile lighting up her face. In her hands, she held a drawing—a sketch of the two of them together, sitting side by side, their arms around each other, smiling as if the world outside the room didn’t exist.
Samara smiled, her heart swelling with love as she accepted the drawing. She held it up to the light, tracing the simple, yet tender strokes of her sister's creation. For a moment, the weight of the past faded away, and she allowed herself to just be in the present, with her sister, in the safety of their room.