Chapter 1: Blamed by Blood

SERENA

I wiped the sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand and kept scrubbing the stone floor. My knees hurt from kneeling so long, but I did not stop. If I did, Mother would find something else to scream about. The bucket of dirty water sat beside me, cold and gray. Same as every morning.

"Serena! Are you still on that floor? Lazy girl!" Mother's voice cut through the kitchen like a knife. She stood in the doorway, arms crossed, staring down at me like I was something stuck to her shoe. "Your father wants his breakfast and you are wasting time. Move faster."

"Yes, Mother," I said quietly. I did not look up. Looking up only made things worse.

She was not my real mother. Not by blood. My real parents died in the fire when I was little. The fire everyone said I started. I was only six. I do not even remember it right, but they told me I did it. That my cursed blood brought bad luck to the family. So they took me in, my aunt and uncle, and made sure I never forgot what I cost them.

I carried the heavy tray to the dining room. My cousin Lila sat at the table already, scrolling on her phone and laughing at something. She did not even glance at me when I set her plate down. "More coffee, Serena. And do not burn the toast this time."

My hands shook a little as I poured. The scar on my arm from last week's "lesson" pulled tight under my sleeve. Father had thrown a hot pan at me when I spilled soup. He said it was an accident. Nobody believed me when I cried.

I went back to the kitchen and started washing dishes. My stomach growled. I had not eaten since yesterday afternoon. They said I did not deserve full meals until I proved I was not worthless. So I stole pieces of bread when no one was looking and hid them in my room like a rat.

The worst part was not the work. It was the way they looked at me. Like I was nothing. Like the air I breathed stole from them. At night I lay on my thin mattress in the attic and dreamed about leaving. Just walking out the door and never coming back. But where would I go? A girl with no money, no friends, and a family name that made people cross the street.

I felt it again then. That strange warmth in my chest. It happened more lately. Like something inside me wanted to wake up. I pressed my hand there and closed my eyes. Purple sparks danced behind my eyelids for a second. I shook my head hard. No. Not here. If they saw, they would call me a monster and lock me away for good.

"Serena!" Uncle's voice boomed from the hallway.

"Get in here now!"

I dried my hands fast on my apron and hurried over. He stood by the front table with a thick envelope in his hand. His face looked strange. Not angry exactly. More like he smelled something bad.

"This came for you," he said. He tossed the envelope at my feet. "Some academy. They say you have been accepted."

I stared at it. My name was written in gold letters on the front.

SERENA BLACKTHORN

Mother came up behind him. "What nonsense is this? Who would accept her?"

Uncle shrugged. "Does not matter. She is going. They are sending a car tomorrow morning. Says it is a special placement. Maybe they will knock some sense into her there."

Lila laughed from the other room. "Finally. Maybe she will get eaten by wolves or something."

I picked up the envelope with shaking fingers. Inside was a letter and a ticket. They wanted me. Me. The girl everyone hated.

For a second, hope flickered in my chest. Maybe this was my chance. Maybe I could finally breathe.

Then Uncle stepped closer. His breath smelled like whiskey. "Do not think this changes anything, girl. You are still the reason why your parents are dead. You carry that curse. If you embarrass this family at that school, I will drag you back myself and make sure you never forget your place."

Tears burned my eyes but I blinked them back. I would not cry in front of them. Not anymore.

"Yes, Uncle," I whispered.

He walked away. Mother followed, muttering about wasted money and cursed blood. I stood there holding the letter like it was made of glass.

Night fell so quickly that I soon began hearing whispering voices. I tiptoed toward my uncle’s room and pressed my ear against the door, eavesdropping.

“Why would you let her go just like that?” my aunt’s voice hissed. “Who will clean up the mess in this house? She’s useless, I know, but she doesn’t deserve to go to that Academy. We’ve done her more good by feeding her lazy self every day.”

“She is going,” my uncle commanded, his tone cold and final. “She is cursed. Bad luck runs through her veins. I won’t stand a chance of letting cursed blood contaminate my family.”

“I don’t want her in that Academy!” my aunt protested.

“Woman, cease to speak!” my uncle screamed.

The sound of footsteps approaching the door made my heart leap. I turned and ran as quietly and quickly as I could.

‎My door slammed open without a single knock. I jumped, heart hammering against my ribs.

‎

‎Uncle stood there, eyes blazing with disgust. He flung something hard at my face. The sharp edge of a necklace caught my cheek before it fell into my lap.

‎

‎"This is the only thing I saved from the night you decided to kill your parents," he spat. "Take it. Keep it as a reminder of your murder."

‎

‎The words landed like stones in my chest. Tears burned hot down my cheeks. I could not hold it in anymore. Everything I had swallowed for years came rushing out in a broken sob.

‎

‎"I did not kill them!" I cried, my voice cracking. "How can you say that to me? I was just a child! I loved them more than anything. I still hear their voices in my dreams, begging me to be okay. And you, you blame me for something I could never control? I have done everything to prove I am not what you say. I have cleaned, I have stayed quiet, I have tried to be invisible just so you would not hate me more. But I am not cursed. I am not a monster. I am just me. And I am tired of carrying your hatred on top of my pain."

‎

‎He stared at me coldly, unmoved. "You're already growing wings, cursed blood. Listen carefully. You're leaving. And the day I ever see you in this house again will be the day of your death."

‎

I wanted to cry but never again. Crying was for the weak. I swallowed the sob rising in my throat, forcing it down until it felt like a rock lodged in my chest. My hands trembled as I clutched the necklace, its chain digging into my palm. This was the last piece of my parents I had left, and even that came wrapped in his poison. I would not let him see me break.

That night I packed my one small bag. Two shirts, one pair of jeans, the old coat with holes in it. I hid a piece of bread and an apple I stole from the kitchen. My hands still smelled like soap from scrubbing floors.

I sat on the edge of my mattress and looked out the tiny attic window. The moon was full and bright. For a moment I thought I saw purple light dance across the glass. My chest felt warm again. Stronger this time.

"What are you?" I whispered to myself.