CHAPTER 1 — The First Scar
Some children fall asleep to lullabies.
Helena Morgan grew up with gunfire.
For most kids, night meant dreams.
For her... it was where the world shattered—
one shot at a time.
The sky over Velmora was a black void.
Too dark for stars.
Too loud for silence.
Smoke blurred the borders
where Morgan and Xavier empires clashed like gods bleeding into earth.
Underground, where the air tasted like rust and old fear,
a little girl trembled in silence.
A basement. Damp. Cracked walls.
She clutched a broken doll—
one eye missing, its insides spilling like torn flesh.
Dust clung to her skin.
The walls didn’t mute the violence above.
Nothing could.
Then—
something inside her cracked.
Her breath caught.
Sweat chilled her spine.
A high-pitched ringing drowned everything.
The world collapsed into a single endless note.
“I… I can’t—can’t breathe,” she gasped.
“David—”
Her voice broke.
Her brother moved fast.
The knife in his hand hit the floor.
He crossed the room in three strides.
One knee.
One motion.
He wrapped her up like armor.
“Helena. Eyes on me.”
His voice—low. Steady. Unbreakable.
“Breathe with me. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”
Her lashes fluttered—red-rimmed, soaked, terrified.
But her breathing began to mimic his.
One inhale. One exhale.
“Don’t leave me,” she whispered.
“I won’t.”
His hand brushed her cheek.
“Not until you’re stronger.”
He leaned back against the wall,
her heartbeat pressed to his ribs.
Blood dripped from his sleeve.
His hand trembled—once. Just once.
He wasn’t even seventeen.
But he held her like a man who’d lost too much.
“You’re bleeding,” Helena said.
“Not my blood.”
His voice, quiet. Unreadable.
He brushed dust from her hair,
flicked a dry leaf off her doll’s head.
“Why are they screaming?” she asked.
“Why does everyone sound so angry?”
“They’re not angry,” David murmured.
“They’re afraid.”
“If they’re afraid... why are they killing each other?”
Silence.
“Can I hold your weapon?”
He looked down.
A smile, if it could be called that, ghosted across his lips.
Not comfort.
Not pride.
Something cracked. Something that had seen too much.
“Someday,” he said.
“When you're stronger than me.”
“If I’m strong… can I protect you?”
He looked away for a breath—
then back at her.
“Yes.
But I hope you never have to.”
She nodded, small and tired.
Then came the question that stole the air.
“If I die… would you be mad?”
David stilled.
His voice turned cold.
Flat. Final.
Like steel hammered into place.
“If you die… I’ll burn the world down.”
Her breath hitched.
In that moment—
the war outside vanished.
Beneath his torn jacket,
a scar peeked from David’s arm.
A crown. A sword. Roots beneath.
The Morgan mark.
Helena touched her chest,
where the same brand lived on her skin.
She didn’t remember the pain.
But David did.
He once told her:
“Blood isn’t passed down.
It’s burned into bone.”
Tonight, for the first time,
that scar meant something more.
Not just blood.
Not just legacy.
But a vow.
That the world could burn—
as long as they didn’t lose each other.
In the depths of war,
two children made a silent promise.
Not spoken.
But carved into the rhythm of their heartbeats.
He held her until her breathing slowed.
Until the fire outside faded to background noise.
And David Morgan…
learned something darker:
Not all scars come from enemies.
Some are carved by the ones who raised you.
✦✦✦
He wasn’t always like this.
Not before her—
the woman his father ordered him to kill.
She wasn’t special.
Just another pawn in Charles Morgan’s empire.
Another name on a list.
But David hesitated.
He watched her for a week.
Studied her.
She didn’t beg.
Didn’t flinch.
She looked at the world like it owed her nothing—
and smiled anyway.
That smile…
looked too much like Helena’s.
“I know the world is cruel,” it seemed to say.
“But I still choose not to fear it.”
He asked for a delay.
His father refused.
"If you're soft, I'll do it myself,"
Charles said—cold. Final.
And he did.
Right in front of David.
The woman dropped without a scream.
Eyes wide open.
Still looking at him.
Like she’d forgiven him
for not being stronger.
David didn’t cry.
Didn’t flinch.
Didn’t speak.
He dug her grave himself.
No name.
Just dirt.
And the weight of everything he should’ve done.
“I couldn’t save you,” he once whispered.
“But I won’t fail again.”
That night,
David made a vow.
No more hesitation.
No more mercy.
And when Helena grew—
sharp, fierce, unshakable—
he knew.
She wasn’t just his sister.
She was his reason.
The only thing still tethering him to what was left of his soul.
That night, Helena survived her first war.
But David…
buried another part of his.
✦✦✦
Some scars fade.
Others turn to fire.
And hers?
He hadn’t even touched it yet.
Tap Next ➤
To enter the war they were born for.
