"Dad, I can't get it off, right?" I asked, staring down at the brand etched into my arm while sipping from a glass of blood that tasted more bitter than usual.
My father didn't answer immediately. He sat across from me, staring into the swirling crimson in his own glass like it held the answers he couldn't give me.
"You and Mom… you never found a way?" I pressed.
He sighed deeply, the sound echoing off the cold marble walls. "No. We were going to see one of the most powerful witches alive back then. She had a reputation for undoing what others couldn't even comprehend. But before we could reach her…" His eyes darkened. "She disappeared."
A strange stillness settled over the room. Like even the shadows were holding their breath.
"So… there's still a chance?" I asked, hope flickering like a tiny match in a pitch-black tunnel. My heart beat a little faster. Maybe I wasn't doomed to carry this brand forever. Maybe, just maybe, there was a way out.
