Valeria

Forty-five years ago, in the darkest alleys of the city, a scream pierced through a rainy night. Kauane Due Stephany looked down at the tiny infant in her arms, despite all the bitterness life had forced upon her. To be born as the daughter of a woman labeled a "prostitute" by society meant that Emily was starting her life already defeated.

Emily’s father was a ghost—a shadow whose existence was ignored and whose name was never spoken. The townspeople would change their paths when they saw Emily and her mother, cursing them in hushed whispers. Although Emily was crushed under the weight of her mother's profession and identity, she carried a power within her that no one knew of: Valeria. She was a miracle born despite every rejection of fate. Her mother may not have wanted her, and the world may not have accepted her, but she was determined to create her own light.As years passed, Kauane’s life became even harder. To escape the shadows of her past and provide "clean" bread for her daughter, she started working as a cleaner in the city’s most luxurious mansions. However, the pittance she earned was enough neither to repair the damp walls of their home nor to cover Emily’s school expenses. While Kauane wiped away the filth of others every day, Emily met the cold face of poverty.

Emily longed to study; the worlds within books were the only harbor she could seek refuge in. But life’s injustice tore her away from the school desks. Seeing her mother’s hands trembling from exhaustion, Emily locked her own dreams in a chest. At the age of sixteen, she became an apprentice to the town’s old, grumpy but honest tailor.

The tailor shop smelled of fabric scraps and stale tea. Emily grew to love sewing. Each stitch was as if she were mending the torn parts of her own life. Although her master scolded her every day, he had noticed the elegance in Emily’s fingers. Emily was no longer just the "prostitute’s daughter"; she was a craftswoman giving life to fabrics. Yet, in the dim light of that shop, with every snip of the scissors, one name echoed in her mind: Valeria. This name was the key to that noble and dark past she knew nothing of, but carried in her blood.As the sun dipped below the horizon and the city streets fell into an eerie silence, Emily finished her shift at the tailor shop. With tired steps, she walked toward the dilapidated house where her mother awaited her. In her pocket were a few coins her master had given her; in her mind were the dreams of the dresses she had sewn. But as she entered a narrow alleyway, she faltered at the sight of two shadows blocking her path.

These were two youths who preyed on the city’s abandoned streets, with no trace of mercy in their eyes. They saw Emily’s poverty and isolation as a weakness. "Look who we have here," one of them said with a mocking sneer. "The famous woman's daughter... Surely she has something of value on her."

Emily tried to retreat, but her back hit the cold brick wall. Fear began to circulate through her veins like venom. As the youths lunged at her, Emily desperately raised her hand. Just as a cry for help was about to rise from her throat, the world suddenly went silent. The wind died down, the birds ceased their chirping, and a pure, pitch-black energy seeping from Emily’s fingertips engulfed the alley.

Within seconds, a pitch-black storm erupted around Emily. This wasn't wind; it was as if the shadows themselves had come alive. The terrified screams of the two attackers were lost within the roar of the storm. The abyssal darkness swirled around them, lifted them into the air, and erased them into the void as if they had never existed. When the storm subsided, only silence and a few specks of dust remained in the street.

Emily leaned against the wall, breathless. The terror she had felt moments ago was replaced by a strange, chilling sense of satisfaction. She looked at her hands; those hands were no longer meant only for sewing. She had found her ticket out of the pit society had pushed her into. In the darkness, a bone-chilling smile slowly appeared on Emily’s lips. Valeria was no longer just a name; it was her new reality.When Emily arrived home, she was out of breath. She locked the door behind her and waited in the dark hallway for a while. Her mother, Kauane, had not yet returned; she was likely busy polishing the floors of some mansion. Emily moved under the flickering candlelight in the kitchen. Was what happened in the street a hallucination or reality?

She placed her hands on the table. She wanted to feel that pitch-black storm, that destructive power again. She closed her eyes and focused on that strange, cold current flowing through her veins. "Valeria..." she whispered to herself. As the name echoed in her mind, purplish-black smoke began to rise from her fingertips. It was like a small spark at first, but then the energy turned into an uncontrollable vortex spinning inside the room.

Emily raised her hand toward the cracks in the ceiling. She focused all her anger, her poverty, and her exclusion onto that single point. Suddenly, a beam of pitch-black lightning erupting from her palm filled the room with a blinding darkness. The house shook with a massive roar, and dust and plaster fragments flew through the air. When Emily opened her eyes, she was met with a sight of mixed terror and pride: the old, wooden roof had been pierced right through the center. She could now see the stars in the night sky through the gap in the ceiling.

Instead of being afraid, Emily smiled. That roof was not a shelter protecting her; it was a cage imprisoning her. And she had just shattered that cage with her own hands.As Emily gazed at the night sky through the massive hole in the ceiling, she heard the creak of the door. Kauane walked in. Her shoulders were slumped from exhaustion, and her eyes had lost their spark. When she looked up and saw the state of the roof, she neither screamed nor asked a question. The house was already falling apart; their lives were already shattered. She simply heaved a deep sigh and, without saying a word, lay down on her old bed, turning her back to her daughter.

From her mother's indifference, Emily drew a bitter truth: her mother had returned to that old profession she hated, just to survive. At that moment, Emily’s heart turned to ice. She made a vow to herself; clenching her fists, she silently screamed under that broken roof: "I will not die without becoming the greatest power in the world. No one will ever crush us again."

From the following days, a new routine began for Emily. Instead of going home after leaving the tailor shop, she started scavenging through the trash of the city’s wealthy neighborhoods. She wasn't ashamed; the hunger in her stomach was stronger than her pride. Now, she filled her belly with food scraps and spent the few cents she earned not on food, but on old comic books she collected from the corners of second-hand bookstores.

At night, after her mother fell asleep, she would lie under that hole in the roof and read the adventures of cloaked heroes, world-destroying villains, and impossible spells by the moonlight. As Emily read, she dreamed; as she dreamed, her mind expanded. She felt the power of the characters on the paper within her own veins. Every dream she had nourished the Valeria energy inside her, and with every page she turned, the black smoke seeping from her fingertips grew denser. She wasn't just reading; she was sealing every bit of might she read into her own soul.