Forbidden Pawn

Prolog

June

How will I ever get over this? I will never talk to you again, will never hear your comforting words again. I will never see that lasting pain in your eyes again, that has been cloaking your life for years.

I can no longer rely on your strength, your wisdom, and your guidance — for the rest of my life.

Everything is different now. I’m an orphan, forced to navigate through life on my own, at the young age of 21.

At least I know where to start.

Because I will never forget.

I’m standing at your grave, dressed in black and my head low, as if something was pulling me down into the Earth with you. And a part of me is receptive to this call of the void. A part of me wishes to be laid to rest, next to you, the only person who was always there for me, who took care of me, when no one else could.

Now you’re gone. And I’m the only person who knows what happened to you.

I’m the only one who can find the man who is responsible for this, and make him pay for what he’s done.

I can’t give up. I have to avenge your death, so there will be no others.

It’s what you would have wanted. Right?

My hand flies up to cover my mouth, as a new swell of tears kills my composure. I’ve cried every single day for weeks now. You’d think there were no more tears left, but they still keep coming.

I’m sick of it. I’m so sick of feeling weak and sad.

But I’m not just that. I’m angry, too. I’m furious and feral with rage.

Good. I will need the power of this fury.

My grief is slowly turning from crushing sorrow to fiery wrath. I let it wash all over me, as I burrow my face in my hands and lose myself in a harrowing wail.

Nothing will ever erase this pain. But I know that time will be on my side—and I know I will find solace in my revenge. I will never be happy again, but I might find myself content once it’s done.

Once I destroy the man who did this to you. He is all I care about now.

I take a deep breath and wipe away the remaining tears, straightening my back as my eyes fixate on the tombstone before me.

“I will make this right,” I whisper into the night. “I won’t let him get away with this.”

There is no response. No voice speaking to me, imagined or real. It’s just me and my pain, standing in the same cemetery I’ve been visiting every single day for months. I know it’s time. I’ve been wallowing in my grief for long enough.

My right hand closes around my left wrist and finds the tiny charm locket attached to a delicate silver bracelet. I pinch it between my fingers and close my eyes.

“I will make this right,” I whisper again, before I turn around and walk away.

It’s time to get started.