Aeron stood alone in his study, the dim light casting long shadows across the room. He stared at the photograph of his mother—the flawless, beautiful woman who had destroyed his family with her lies and betrayal. His heart still ached from the memory, but now something new stirred inside him: confusion.
For years, he had lived by one simple truth: beautiful women were dangerous, untrustworthy, and deserved punishment. They betrayed their husbands and destroyed lives, just like his mother had done to his father.
But Liora?
She wasn't like the others.
She had cared for the broken bird despite her own pain. She never screamed or begged. Instead, she showed kindness — a fragile strength he couldn't understand.
Aeron clenched his fists, struggling against a feeling he hated. He wanted to hate her. He needed to hate her. But every time he looked at her, every time he watched her quiet bravery, something inside him cracked.
That morning, he returned to her cell.
Liora looked up, her eyes steady but soft.
"I want to ask you something," she said quietly.
He folded his arms.
"I don't answer questions."
She smiled faintly.
"Not a question. A request."
Aeron raised an eyebrow.
"What?"
"When you decide I'm not your target anymore… let me live."
Her voice was calm, hopeful — not desperate.
He felt a twist in his chest, sharp and unexpected.
"Why?" he asked.
"Because even broken things deserve a chance," she whispered.
Aeron looked away, the walls he'd built around his heart beginning to crumble.
For the first time, he wondered if maybe kindness wasn't weakness.
Maybe it was the only thing strong enough to save them both.
Aeron's eyes didn't leave Liora's face as she spoke. Her calm, quiet request hung in the air between them like a fragile thread—thin, yet impossible to ignore.
"Why should I?" Aeron finally said, his voice low and rough. "You're just like the others. Broken, weak, waiting to be crushed."
Liora met his gaze without flinching. "Maybe," she said softly. "But I'm still here. And I'm still trying."
Her words struck him harder than any fight or scream. For years, Aeron had defined people by their flaws, their betrayals. But this girl, battered and bruised, was holding onto something even he struggled to understand: hope.
He looked away, pacing the room as the weight of his own past settled heavy in his chest.
His mother's betrayal had broken his family—and almost broken him.
His father had died, alone and betrayed.
And from that pain, Aeron had built his mission: to punish the beautiful women who hid lies behind their smiles.
But Liora's quiet strength challenged everything.
Why did she survive when others had fallen?
Why did she care for a broken bird when she herself was hurting?
Aeron stopped pacing and stared out the small window, the cold light of dawn filtering in.
Could kindness really exist in a world so cruel?
Days passed, and Aeron found himself watching Liora more closely.
She never begged or pleaded. Instead, she sat quietly, cared for the small injuries he allowed her to tend, and spoke softly to the broken things around her—the bird, a wilted flower, even the cracked walls.
One evening, Aeron caught her humming a soft tune, the melody gentle and haunting.
It was the first time he'd heard her voice without pain or fear.
Curiosity gnawed at him.
"Why do you sing?" he asked, stepping into the cell without warning.
Liora looked up, startled but not afraid.
"Because it reminds me there's still beauty in the world," she said simply.
Aeron's chest tightened.
She was searching for light in darkness—the very thing he had sworn to destroy.
That night, Aeron sat alone in his study, memories swirling.
His father's voice, weak and full of pain.
His mother's cold smile.
The blood on the floor.
He realized that his hatred had become a prison.
Liora's quiet courage was a key—unlocking parts of himself he had locked away.
The next morning, Aeron returned to the cell with something unexpected: a small book of poems.
He placed it gently on the floor.
Liora's eyes widened.
"You brought this for me?" she asked softly.
Aeron nodded.
"Read it," he said gruffly. "Maybe you'll find something worth fighting for."
For the first time, a flicker of gratitude crossed her face.
And Aeron felt something unfamiliar: the stirring of hope.