A House in Mourning // Chapter One

'✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

The brittle October air hung heavy with the scent of petrichor and fading leaves, carrying a chill that whispered of winter's impending grasp. Sable Hawke stood at the threshold of her home, her heart a stone lodged deep in her chest. The house, once full of life, now felt hollow. Her eyes lingered on the pencil markings on the doorway, each line a faded memory of her siblings growing years. The air lay cloaked in silence, shadows pooling in the corners like grim memories refusing to fade.

Sable's gaze drifted upward, and her breath caught in her throat. The Dark Mark, sprawled across the sky above her home, loomed like a twisted sigil of death. Its sickly green glow bled into the night, a stark warning of the violence that had come before her. She knew, in her bones, what she was about to walk into.

Sable pushed the door open, its high-pitched creak echoing through the house like a silent warning. The familiar scent of lemon and aging wood intruded her senses, but it felt foreign now—tainted. She breathed in deeply, searching for the comfort of home, but instead, it was as if the walls themselves were holding their breath, waiting for something she couldn't name. Something terrible.

The floorboards squeaked beneath her weight as she stepped further into the house, each movement increasing the rhythm of her heartbeat. Sable paused at the door to the living room, her hand trembling as she reached for the handle of the door. The cool metal burned her skin mercilessly. Sable exhaled, bracing herself.

With an uneasy push, the door screeched open, unveiling the dimly lit room. The once cozy space was now a shattered version of itself. Sable glanced down to the broken glass from one of her mothers antique vases surrounding her feet. Her father's favorite armchair sat on its side, the fabric torn and stained crimson red.

And there, in the center of the room, two figures stood.

The first man, cloaked in black, was tall and imposing. A chill crept up her back at the sight of him. His face was hidden beneath the deep shadow of his hood, but the faintest gleam of pale skin caught the edge of the candlelight. There was something about him that felt too still, too cold—an air of authority that held the room in suffocating silence. His presence filled the space like an approaching storm, threatening to consume everything in its path. His hand, covered in dark robes, rested casually at his side, but a glint of something darker—something unmistakably marked—betrayed his allegiance.

The second figure, just barely visible, stood to the side, his posture rigid, as though caught between two worlds. The flickering light revealed just enough for her to catch the faint outline of his features—the sharp jaw, the gray, unreadable eyes. He didn't face her, but the air was thick with his presence, thick with a tension she knew all too well. He was there, but he didn't belong, not really. His gaze was distant, his fingers twitching as if fighting against some unseen force. He wasn't supposed to be here. But he was.

Sable's pulse quickened as the realization washed over her.

     This can't be true.

The first man, still silent, finally spoke, his voice like gravel scraping against her soul. "It's over," he said, the words carrying weight she couldn't escape. "Your family was in the way."

Her heart twisted in her chest. No! She refused to believe it. Not this.

The second figure's voice came in a murmur, quiet but insistent. "You need to leave. Now." His tone wasn't as cold as the other man's, but the urgency was unmistakable. It was almost like a plea, though his words carried no gentleness. "Before it's too late."

Sable swallowed hard, her throat tight. "You—killed them?" she whispered, the absolute ruin bubbling up in her chest, threatening to drown her.

Sable could scarcely grasp the reality that just a few steps ahead of her, her family lay cold and lifeless. The home that had once been filled with warmth had been torn apart by the very hands of the two cloaked figures in front of her. Those two cloaked figures had entered a sanctuary, and in their wake, they left only devastation. Her mother and father, gone—taken from her forever. And her baby sister—her sweet, innocent sister, whose soul had been ripped from her tiny body with a cruelty so cold, so merciless, that it left Sable reeling. The child she had once held in her arms was lost to a place beyond her reach.

She took a shaky breath, the air trembling in her lungs, as if trying to steady her very soul before she finally lifted her gaze to the two men before her. The look she gave them was raw, a reflection of pure heartbreak—a silent plea that hung heavy in the air, as if her shattered heart bled into the space between them.

At that moment, Sable silently pleaded with death, a
desperate whisper to the void. She clung to a fragile thread of hope, praying to any force that might be listening, begging for a miracle—to undo the unspeakable tragedy that had shattered these four walls. She knew, with a cold certainty, that death could not be cheated, that no amount of pleading could summon the departed from their eternal rest. Yet, a small, stubborn part of her refused to believe it. If she could just cry loud enough, wish hard enough, could the universe somehow bend, just for her? Could they be the exception to the inescapable law?

One of the figures shifting in front of her, brought Sable back to cruel reality. Her eyes roamed his body, waiting for a response. He didn't answer immediately. She saw him shift slightly, and when he spoke again, it was with a quiet desperation that sent a chill through her. "I don't have a choice."

The room felt like it was closing in on her, suffocating her with its darkness. Her heart shattered at the finality of his words. She wanted to scream, to fight, to run, but the words caught in her throat. He had chosen this. He had chosen them.

The first man stepped forward, the very air thickening with his presence. "Leave now. Or you'll regret it."

The weight of the sentence was heavier than anything Sable had ever felt. She turned toward the door, her body trembling. She couldn't look at him again, couldn't bear to.

With a final glance at the remnants of her life—at her family's memories scattered in the ashes of her home—Sable stepped into the night, the door slamming shut behind her with an echo that felt like the end of everything.