What does the major want?

Lara Karber — Early Life and Upbringing (17th Century)Lara Karber was born in the winter of 1652, in a rural settlement on the edge of a forested region, far removed from major cities and centers of learning,She was the third child and the second daughter in a household that valued endurance over affection...From early childhood, Lara was remarkably beautiful. Her beauty was quiet rather than striking—balanced features, pale skin, clear eyes that observed more than they revealed. It was not a beauty shaped by adornment or effort; it existed naturally, and for that reason, it was treated with caution rather than pride. In her world, beauty in a girl was not considered a blessing, but a liability...Her father was a skilled craftsman, respected within his limited community, but emotionally distant. He believed discipline to be the highest form of care. Praise was rare; approval was shown through silence. He viewed Lara’s beauty with concern, fearing it might invite unwanted attention

Because of Suzy’s scream, Lara felt a sense of safety mixed with fear—afraid that the sound might have reached Robert, yet reassured because she had managed, if only for a moment, to return calm to her daughter. That small pocket of safety was something her own mother had once failed to give her.For the first time, Lara felt that a buried wish had come true: to be the shield, not the cracked wall—to be the arms that did not tremble.That realization softened something sharp inside her, dulling her resentment toward her mother. She no longer saw her only as an absent parent, but as a woman who had never been allowed to be more than a mother in the biological sense; a woman denied safety herself, and therefore unable to offer it. Lara understood this with painful clarity. Yet understanding did not erase wounds—it merely taught them how to bleed in silence.Suzy, her breathing finally steady, clutched at the small woolen fabric of her mother’s dress, as if afraid that the safety would v

The air no longer had room for Lara’s breath; her lungs were suffocated by the thick, metallic scent of her daughter’s lifeblood. She looked at Robert with a gaze paralyzed by a dual horror: a terror of what he had just done, and an instinctive, primal fear of the monster he had become. Her mouth hung open, a silent void of disbelief.She began to crawl toward Suzanne. As she dragged herself across the floor, the shards of glass bit into her palms, but she felt nothing. The physical pain was a mere whisper against the screaming silence of her soul.“My love,” she whispered, her voice cracking like dry parchment. “Did you mean that your father was that witch? My darling… didn’t I tell you not to fear? Didn’t I say I was right here, and no one would hurt you?”She reached the small, limp body. With hysterical, trembling hands, she began to wipe the blood from Suzanne’s severed throat, smearing it onto her own cheeks and forehead in a grisly ritual.“Suzanne, wake up, my child. Your moth

Rough hands grabbed the back of Lara’s collar, their fingers twisting violently into her tangled hair. She was dragged across the threshold of her own home, the rough wood scraping against her knees, but she felt no physical pain."No... no!" she screamed, her voice a shredded, inhuman sound that echoed through the night. "Umm... Ahhh... I want Suzy! Let me go! Suzyyyy!"Robert stood in the doorway, his face a mask of calculated fury. "You will never see her again, you filthy whore!" he bellowed for the gathered crowd to hear. "Rot in the deepest dungeons! I pray to God they execute you!" Yet, in the dim light of the torches, a single, glistening tear escaped his eye. It didn't matter; to the world, he was the heartbroken, grieving father.They hauled her toward a waiting horse-drawn carriage. Heavy, rusted iron chains were clamped around her delicate wrists, biting into her skin. The villagers watched in disgust as the woman, still drenched from head to toe in the crimson blood of he

While Lara remained collapsed on the cold, unforgiving floor of the courtroom, her tears continued to wash the very patch of earth beneath her. Her sobs were not mere cries; they were hollow, gut-wrenching wails of a soul being torn apart, filling every corner of the court with a haunting resonance. The guards, devoid of any shred of pity, stepped forward and seized her with brutal force. They yanked her upward, dragging her toward the heavy doors where the black carriage reserved for the condemned awaited."Bury me with my daughter!" Lara shrieked, her voice cracking as she fought against their iron grip. She clawed at the air, her feet dragging uselessly across the floor. "Bury me with her! Please, just bury meeeee!"As they dragged her further down the long, shadowed corridor, the volume of her screams began to fade. With every inch of distance put between her and the world of the living, her voice grew thinner and more desperate, until it became a ghost of a sound—a faint, dying e