I was not born broken. That would have been kinder— an excuse, a tidy label for frightened people. No, I was born normal— a High Elf of a respectable house, pure noble blood, raised on soft voices, polished manners, and expectations that felt like silk tightening around my throat. They called me beautiful. Delicate. Perfect. Never dangerous. I learned early that people see what they want… and I learned how easy it is to step closer when they’re not afraid.
The first time I killed, it was… inelegant. A mess of breath and panic. But the second—ah, the second had rhythm. By the third, I understood: it wasn’t rage. It was clarity. Every heartbeat before the final one felt like a note in a song only I could hear. They began to whisper names for me—Kin-Slayer—as if words could cage what I am. I wore them like perfume.
I did try, once, to be what they wanted. I studied magic the proper way. Sat still. Listened. Failed. Again and again. Talent is a gate, you see—and I was never given a key. So I made my own. I forced the door open, splinter by splinter, until something on the other side noticed me… and smiled back.
They finally caught me in an alley. Not during some grand hunt, not surrounded by soldiers—no. Just a sorcerer who bumped into me. He looked at me with that same polite annoyance, the kind that assumes you are harmless. I remember thinking how disappointing it would be if he walked away. So I didn’t let him.
It would have been simple. It is always simple. But I didn’t. Someone else came. Not to fight, not to run—just… stopped. For a moment, they stared, like their mind refused what their eyes already understood. Then they dropped beside him, hands reaching without hesitation, pulling him close as if he might still slip away if they didn’t hold tight enough. They called his name—once, soft, like a question. Then again, louder, breaking. And again, until it stopped sounding like a name at all. They held him too tightly, like they could press life back into him, like refusing to let go would change what had already been done. And then they screamed. Not fear. Not anything I knew. It was something raw, something that tore out of them without control, like they were breaking from the inside and there was no way to stop it.
