Rocco
The first thing I remembered
was laughter.
Bright and easy, carried by
the wind like it belonged to the morning itself.
For one blissful second, I
didn't know anything was wrong.
I was ten.
Barefoot in the grass behind
our estate, sunlight warming my skin and the earth beneath my feet. The
training field stretched wide behind the house- a broad patch of open land
bordered by olive trees and low stone walls, worn smooth with age.
I gripped my wooden practice
sword tighter, chest rising and falling hard.
Across from me, father lowered
his blade and gave me the unimpressed look he always wore during training.
"No," he said. "Again."
I groaned.
"Father, I've done this twelve
times."
"Thirteen," he corrected.
"That's worse."
His mouth twitched, almost a
smile.
"You lose count too easily."
"That's because I'm tired."
A laugh burst from somewhere
to my left.
I turned.
Callie was perched on the low
stone wall near the edge of the field, golden curls tumbling over her shoulder
as she swung her legs.
She was eight and already
convinced she ran the world.
She grinned at me, entirely
too pleased.
"You're just bad."
I pointed my sword at her.
"You're supposed to be on my
side."
"I am on my side."
Father sighed.
"You inherited your mother's
dramatics."
Callie gasped.
"Papa, I heard that."
Before I could answer, another
voice drifted toward us.
Warm. Soft. Familiar.
"And yet somehow, she's still
the least dramatic person here."
We all turned.
Mother stood at the top of the
terrace steps, sunlight catching in her golden hair until it looked almost lit
from within.
She wore a pale blue dress
that moved gently in the breeze, elegant without even trying. Her green eyes-
the same shade as mine- softened the moment they landed on us.
For a second, everything felt
just right.
"Dinner," she said, smiling.
Callie jumped off the wall
instantly.
"Finally."
"You did no work," I said.
She shrugged. "I encouraged
you."
"You insulted me for an hour."
"That counts."
Mother laughed softly.
Even father's expression
eased.
And suddenly, we were moving
toward the house together.
Like we had all the time in
the world.
Dinner was loud as usual.
Callie kept talking over
everyone, stealing food off my plate whenever she thought I wasn't looking.
Mother scolded her half
heartedly while father pretended not to notice, though I caught him hiding a
smile behind his glass.
I watched them all from across
the table and felt something warm settle in my chest.
This was everything.
Not the estate or training,
but this.
My family.
Callie nudged my leg under the
table.
"You're staring."
"I'm observing."
"That's creepier."
Mother smiled.
"Callista, leave your brother
alone."
"He's weird."
Father raised an eyebrow.
"You're one to talk."
Callie looked scandalized.
"I'm delightful, papa."
I snorted.
She kicked me under the table.
Hard.
"Hey!"
Mother laughed properly this
time, bright and effortless.
After dinner, Callie was sent
off to spend the night was Aunt Sofia down the road.
She stood in the doorway
dramatically clutching her shawl like she was leaving for war.
"You'll miss me terribly."
"I'll survive."
She narrowed her eyes. "You're
rude.'
"You love me."
She stuck her tongue out. Then
just before leaving, she threw her arms around me.
It caught me off guard enough
that I almost stumbled.
"You smell like dirt," I said.
"You smell like arrogance."
I laughed.
"Go away, Callie."
She pulled back and grinned.
"Only you get to call me that."
"I know."
Her smile softened.
"Goodnight, Rocco."
"Night, Callie."
Later that night, I was in my
room.
Rain tapped softly against the
windows.
The estate had gone quiet
hours ago.
Everyone asleep.
I sat cross- legged on my bed,
the heavy old book balanced in my lap.
A leather- bound history of
the Azzurro family.
The exact book father had told
me not to touch.
Which naturally, made me want
to read it more.
My fingers brushed over the
worn crest on the cover.
A chain woven around a blue
flame.
The symbol had always
fascinated me.
The same one engraved into the
silver bracelet father always wore.
I opened the book carefully.
The first page cracked softly.
To protect the worlds is
to carry the burden of both-
My eyes were already drooping.
The words blurred. I blinked
hard, trying to focus and lost.
The book slipped against my
chest as sleep dragged me under.
Smoke woke me.
At first, I thought I was
still dreaming.
My room was dark except for
the orange glow creeping beneath the door.
My heart lurched.
No.
No no-
I shot upright.
The smell hit harder now.
My chest tightened with fear
so sudden and deep it stole my breath.
Something was wrong.
"Mother?"
No answer.
I stumbled out of bed and
yanked the door open.
The hallway beyond was thick
with smoke.
The walls flickered with
firelight.
My pulse exploded.
"Father?"
Still nothing.
The silence was worse than
screaming.
I covered my mouth and started
down the stairs, panic clawed up my throat.
The house, my home, was
breaking apart around me.
Beams groaned overhead.
Glass shattered somewhere in
the distance.
Paintings were falling. Flames
crawled hungrily up curtains and walls.
And beneath it all-
A sound.
Faint.
It sounded like rattling
chains coming from below.
The basement.
I froze then ran.
My feet barely touched the
steps.
I was moving too fast, lungs
burning from the smoke and panic, one hand gripping the railing while the other
covered my mouth.
The deeper I went, the hotter
the air became.
The stone stairwell to the
basement was dim, lit only by the firelight spilling down from the above and
something else-
A strange blue glow flickered
somewhere below.
My pulse thundered in my ears.
"Father!" I shouted, my voice
cracking.
No answer.
Only the groan of the house
straining against itself.
Then-
A soft sound.
A choked breath.
My heart lurched.
I stumbled into the basement-
And stopped.
For a second, my mind refused
to understand what I was seeing.
The room was chaos.
Shelves had been thrown aside,
old books scattered across the floor, glass shattered everywhere. Flames licked
at the edge of the curtains near the narrow windows, throwing wild shadows
across the walls.
And in the middle of it-
My mother.
She was suspended against one
of the iron support beams, her pale dress stained with soot, her golden hair
hanging loose around her face.
Still. Too still.
My breath caught so sharply it
hurt.
Everything in me wanted to run
to her.
To fix it. To wake her up.
But even at ten, some part of
me knew.
She was gone.
A broken sound escaped me
before I could stop it.
"Mama…"
The word barely made it out.
Across the room, my father
turned.
He was on one knee, breathing
hard, one hand braced against the floor.
And standing over him-
Someone I had never seen
before.
At first glance, he looked
like any man.
Tall. Broad shouldered. Dark
coat untouched by ash.
But there was something deeply
wrong about the way he stood.
Too still.
And when he turned towards me-
His eyes glowed red.
Not bright but enough to make
my blood turn cold.
Like embers burning at the bottom of a fire.
For the first time in my life-
I understood what terror
really was.
The man smiled.
It was almost gentle.
"well," he said softly, his
voice calm despite the destruction around us. "There you are."
I couldn't move. My legs
locked beneath me.
My father's face changed
instantly.
Not fear for himself, but for
me.
"Rocco," he said sharply.
That broke the spell.
I took a stumbling step back.
My father pushed himself up
with a grunt, putting himself between us.
"Don't," he said, his voice
rough. "Don't come any closer."
The man tilted his head.
"You've lost, Matteo."
Father straightened despite the blood on his
sleeve and the exhaustion in his face.
"No," he said.
His eyes met mine.
And suddenly everything in his
expression changed.
The sternness, the
frustration, even the distance he always carried.
Gone.
All I saw now was love and
grief.
And something that looked
almost like and apology.
"Listen to me," he said.
My vision blurred.
I was crying now. I hadn't
even realized.
"Papa-"
"Rocco." His voice was
stronger this time. Firm and certain. The way it always was when he needed me
to pay attention.
I froze.
He reached for his wrist. The
silver bracelet I had seen all my life but never questioned. It glowed beneath
his fingers.
Blue light pulses through the
chain like it was alive.
"The world is crueler than you
know," he said, voice shaking now despite how hard he fought it.
"And there are things coming
for you that you do not understand yet."
My chest hurt so badly I
thought I might break.
"I don't –"
"You don't have to understand
tonight."
His voice softened.
"You only have to survive."
The red eyed man took a step
forward.
Impatient now.
Father moved quickly.
He ripped the bracelet from
his wrist.
The second it left his skin,
the room seemed to tremble.
The blue light surged so
bright I had to shield my eyes.
Then he threw it at me.
Instinct took over.
I caught it.
The second my fingers closed
around the chain-
Something exploded inside my
head.
Pain, light, voices.
A thousand memories that
weren't mine but somehow were.
My mother's voice cut through
the storm.
Not from the room. From inside
me.
A memory. A warning.
Run, Rocco. Run!
I looked up.
The red eyed man had gone
still.
For the first time, something
flickered across his face.
Frustration mixed with
interest.
"Well," he murmured. "That's
inconvenient."
My father lunged.
Not to win but to buy me
seconds.
He slammed into the man with a
roar, driving him back into the far wall hard enough to crack stone.
"GO!" he shouted.
The force of it snapped me out
of my shock.
I ran.
I ran because my mother's
voice was screaming in my head.
Because my father was still
fighting.
Because if I stayed.. I would
die too.
The basement stairs blurred
beneath me.
The house groaned around me
like it was alive and dying at once.
Heat clawed at my skin, smoke
burned my lungs.
I burst through the front
doors barefoot and sobbing into the freezing night.
I didn't stop.
I couldn't.
I ran down the gravel path,
through the gates, into the dark road beyond the estate.
Branches tore at my arms.
My breath came in ragged
gasps.
Behind me-
I could hear them.
Not footsteps but low growls.
Shapes with glowing eyes
slipping between shadows.
The lesser demons.
They were hunting me.
My heart pounded so hard I
thought it might give out.
I kept running.
Faster and faster till-
Headlights
I turned-
A horn blared then impact.
Pain burst through me.
The sky, road, cold and then-
Darkness.
When Marcus opened his eyes,
he was back in the smoke filled ruins of the present.
On his knees, shaking.
His parents' bodies still lay
there.
But now…
He remembered.
Not everything but enough.
Enough to know that the
monster from his dreams had a name.
Enough to know that this
wasn't fate.
It was unfinished war.
And somewhere in the silence
of the burning house-
His bracelet pulsed once.
Like it was waking up with
him.
And for the first time in
seven years-
Rocco Azzurro was no longer
sleeping.