Prologue

Quinarui frowned at her husband. “But it says ‘evil’. What if…” She trailed off as her daughter skipped into the room, her wavy brown hair bobbing as she went.

She couldn’t help but smile at the little girl standing in front of her. Her big brown eyes stared innocently at up at her mother, her caramel colored skin that mirrored Quinarui’s own shining in the light from the doorway.

“What are you guys talking about?”

Exchanging a swift glance with her husband, Quinarui tried to act nonchalant. “We’re just talking about adult things.”

The young girl pouted and turned to her father. “Daddy, will you tell me?”

He chuckled. “Why don’t you head back to your room now, while Mommy and I talk?”

She eyed her mother’s belly. “Are you giving birth? Is that it?”

A laugh escaped Quinarui’s stone-gray lips. Her due date wasn’t for another month. “Not quite yet. Go ahead back to your room now, dear.”

“You know, Mommy, I’m going to be the best big sister ever. I’ll be so strong and protective! One day, Mommy, I’ll even be strong enough to kill you!” Her face broke into a playful smile, her single missing tooth visible. Despite knowing her daughter’s good intentions, Quinarui couldn’t help but feel uneasy. She didn’t have a problem with her children becoming more powerful than her—they would rule this kingdom eventually, anyway—but the fact that killing her own mother had even crossed her mind was so…

“You need to go back to your room now,” her husband repeated gently. “And close the door on your way out.”

“Okay,” she murmured reluctantly, and skipped off, then slammed the door behind her.

Once the sound of shoes clopping on the floor had faded, Quinarui turned to her husband again. “What if one of them turns out like my grandfather?” She squeezed her eyes shut. He had died more than three hundred years ago, and yet she could still remember him wreaking havoc on the city her grandmother had worked so hard to build. He had set it aflame, killing so many in the process. She was only but a girl at the time, and had lost one of her lives. “He was a pyroct. They are more aggressive…”

Her husband stared into his wife’s green eyes. Her creased face was worn and tired. Her thick, brown hair was in a low bun, clearly hastily tied. Normally, her blue wings were bright and glowing; now, they were drooping and dull. “Pyroct or hydroct, it doesn’t matter. Our kids won’t be affected by some silly power they were assigned to at birth. We just have to raise them right.”

“But pyrocts are even more aggressive than hydrocts, and…” Quinarui eyed the doorway where her daughter had exited. “She’s already having trouble controlling her anger bursts.”

“She’s five, Quinarui! Of course she won’t be able to completely control herself.”

“I was able to comfortably do it when I was two!” she snapped. Feeling tears starting to burn in her eyes, she lowered her voice. “Look, I just want to protect my children from becoming monsters. What if we can’t even raise our own daughter to be moral when she’s a hydroct? I’ll never forgive myself if I end up turning a pyroct into a murderer like my grandfather.”

Her husband’s jaw dropped. “Our daughter will not become a monster! I’m confident she’ll be a nurturing older sister.”

Quinarui stared at her husband, feeling a deep sinking feeling in her stomach. What if she wasn’t able to raise her kids properly? What if she did give birth to a pyroct? What would she do? Her own daughter was already occasionally showing signs of anger and violence. She should have been able to control her feelings by now. If she couldn’t even raise a hydroct correctly, how was she supposed to raise a pyroct? She stiffened, a new thought creeping into her mind—it said to “slay” the evil. She knew that at the time being, she was more powerful than her children. What if she was the one? Would she have to kill her own child?

She straightened. “We will remove all books that mention the life-stealing power or Interficio. No child of mine will ever use those.”

“Quinarui! You really think the best way to raise our children is resorting to secrecy because we’re too weak to be truthful?”

She looked away. “Yes. I do.”

Neither of them noticed the little girl peering through the crack in the door.