[❚❚] ʜɪꜱ ᴅᴇᴘᴀʀᴛᴇᴅ ᴍᴀᴛᴇ

⚜ Prologue ⚜

It was the year 1936, in a town known as Monville. The town was small, but well-known for its eight beautiful, young maidens. Each sister possessed a radiant, pale complexion that glowed like the moon, and their obsidian hair cascaded like silken waterfalls down their graceful shoulders. Their most captivating feature was their mesmerizing grey eyes, which held a depth and allure that seemed to pierce through the very soul of anyone who met their gaze. 

The sisters ran a successful farm alongside their parents and were known as the Burton Estate. And although their business was a target to steal for riches and stock, the criminals have admitted to being so entranced by their beauty, that they abandoned all their previous cruel ways.

However, one day, the Burton family fell victim to a cold-blooded taker stalking the town. Unbeknownst to them, he appeared as a devilishly handsome man.

"Rochelle!" Her mother hollered, bringing out a large cart with a barrel lying in it. "I need you to fill our water supply down to the well, please."

Her father suddenly stepped into the home after tightening a leak from the rooftop, "Darling, you know it's too dangerous. There's a slaughterer on the loose, have you not heard?"

There was an obvious resemblance all the daughters shared with their parents. While they had the features and shape of their mother, they had the midnight hair and pale skin of their father. For some of Rochelle's sisters, it was swapped to where they had the looks of their father and the colors of their mother. The daughters were all captivating nonetheless.

Rochell's mother scoffed, "There's no such killing! He's just a big hooligan that idiot girls fall all over. And we're in broad daylight, so you've got nothing to fear, Dearie. Besides, I hear he seduces once every few months, and the last girl was barely a week earlier!"

Her father was about to argue before his daughter stopped him, "It will be fine, Papa. I'll be back before you know it."

Rochelle took the cart from her mother into her own delicate hands. She bid her mother and father goodbye and headed down the well that lies in the center of the town. It was a large, functioning well that the entire town depended on. The stone was mossed over, but flowers bloomed around the structure, giving it a pure resemblance.

Fortunately, strange magic supplied it with purifying water for all to use. Magic was evident all around the world, and it came in any shape or form. Magic itself had a certain personality of its own, making it almost impossible to wield. Humans who learned to control it were seen as evil and disruptors of peace. Sorcery like that was an inevitable death sentence.

Magical creatures were rare, but not an illusion. Rochelle has seen and met one herself; their kind were called hybrids. Hybrids were many beings that held magic within them, only they didn't force it or control it like the forbidden. But they were one with the magic, and those creatures came in many forms such as wings, fangs, tails, gills, or even snouts.

Rochelle filled the barrel to the very brim and began to make her way back home. It was difficult, however, as the load became five times its original weight. As she struggled, Rochelle felt eyes watching her and she couldn't help but feel insecure and rather shy. But she did her best to appear less distressed and proceeded to work her way up the hill.

"Hello there, Miss." A velvety voice called out to her. "You seem to have a bit of trouble in your hands. May I help?"

The man appeared slightly older than Rochelle's early twenties, with a light stubble adorning his features. His hair was a dashing resemblance to the moon, glistening with his bronzed skin in the sunlight. Rochelle had never seen such hair before. He had a straight, delicate nose that pulled his face together quite nicely. And his captivating eyes shone a warm hazel. He was definitely larger than the average man, but his voice and mannerisms made him seem less intimidating.