The forest did not raise weak children.
And Seraphina… was anything but weak.
Morning light spilled gently through the tall trees, painting the small wooden cottage in gold. Birds chirped loudly, as if arguing over who owned the sky, and somewhere nearby, something crashed loudly.
"SERAPHINA!"
A loud thud followed.
"I DIDN'T DO IT!"
Another crash.
"…Okay, I did it."
Inside the cottage, chaos reigned.
A now ten-year-old Seraphina stood in the middle of the room, holding a wooden spoon like it was a weapon. Her dark hair was wild, untamed, and tied in a loose knot that had already given up halfway through the morning.
Her face—marked by the same jagged scar she was born with—did nothing to hide the mischief dancing in her glowing eyes.
At her feet…
A broken clay pot.
And a very guilty-looking goat chewing something it absolutely should not be chewing.
"That," Seraphina pointed at it dramatically, "was my breakfast."
The goat blinked.
Chewed slower.
Then louder.
Seraphina gasped. "You're mocking me."
From behind her, Maelis leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching the scene unfold with quiet amusement.
"You're arguing with a goat again."
"He started it."
"He's eating," Maelis replied calmly.
"He's eating my life," Seraphina snapped.
The goat bleated.
Seraphina narrowed her eyes. "Say that again."
A Different Kind of Childhood
Life in the forest was not easy.
But it was free.
Seraphina didn't grow up in silk dresses or golden halls. She grew up climbing trees, chasing animals twice her size, and learning how to survive in a world that did not care if she lived or died.
And she loved it.
Mostly.
"Why do I have to learn this?" she groaned one afternoon, holding a wooden staff awkwardly.
Maelis stood across from her, perfectly balanced, completely unbothered.
"Because one day," Maelis said, "something stronger than you will try to break you."
Seraphina smirked. "Then I'll just break it first."
Maelis raised an eyebrow. "With what? That stance?"
Seraphina looked down.
Her stance was… questionable.
"Okay," she muttered. "Don't look at it too hard."
Within seconds—
WHACK.
Seraphina hit the ground flat on her back.
She groaned loudly. "I think the ground is trying to kill me again."
Maelis didn't even blink. "Get up."
"I'm dying."
"You're dramatic."
"I'm injured."
"You tripped over your own foot."
"…That foot betrayed me."
The Mark That Could Not Be Forgotten
As Seraphina grew, so did the whispers.
Even in the forest.
Travelers sometimes passed through, thinking it was a shortcut.
They were always wrong.
But occasionally, Seraphina would watch them from the trees.
Hidden.
Silent.
Curious.
One day, she saw her reflection in a stream.
She stared at it longer than usual.
Her fingers traced the scar on her face.
"Do you think I'm ugly?" she asked quietly.
Maelis, who stood behind her, didn't answer immediately.
Instead, she stepped closer.
"People fear what they don't understand," she said. "And sometimes… they call it ugly to make themselves feel safe."
Seraphina frowned. "That sounds like a 'yes' but with extra words."
Maelis almost smiled.
"You are not ordinary," she said instead.
Seraphina sighed. "That doesn't help when goats respect me more than people do."
"I don't think the goat respects you."
"He fears me."
"The goat ate your breakfast."
Seraphina paused.
"…We're still building that fear."
Strength Forged in Silence
Years passed.
And the girl the king abandoned became something no one expected.
Strong.
Fast.
Unbreakable.
By sixteen, Seraphina could:
Climb cliffs without slipping
Hunt without sound
Fight with precision and instinct
And most importantly… survive anything
But she was more than strength.
She was laughter in the middle of hardship.
She was stubborn hope wrapped in sarcasm.
She was fire.
And fire…
does not ask for permission to burn.
The First Sign of Trouble
It started with smoke.
Not the comforting kind.
Not the kind that meant food or warmth.
This smoke was thick.
Dark.
Wrong.
Seraphina stood at the edge of a high ridge, staring into the distance.
Beyond the forest…
A village burned.
Her expression changed.
Gone was the playful girl who argued with goats.
In her place stood something sharper.
Colder.
Focused.
"Maelis," she called quietly.
"I see it," Maelis replied, already beside her.
"They'll die."
"Yes."
Seraphina clenched her fists.
"We can't just stand here."
Maelis studied her carefully.
"This is not your fight."
Seraphina turned to her, eyes blazing.
"Then whose is it?"
Silence stretched between them.
Then—
Maelis sighed.
"You've been waiting for something like this."
Seraphina didn't deny it.
A slow, dangerous smile spread across her face.
"Finally," she said.
The Girl Who Ran Toward Fire
While others ran away from danger…
Seraphina ran toward it.
The wind rushed past her as she moved swiftly through the forest, her feet barely making a sound.
Her heart pounded—not with fear.
But excitement.
Purpose.
"This is probably a terrible idea," she muttered.
Then grinned.
"Good thing I love terrible ideas."
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