Chapter 16 Remember Your Vow
FLASHBACK: LYDIA, AGE FIVE
(Remember, Sister Yanni is the one helping her recollect the past)
The rain drummed softly on the old orphanage roof, a steady rhythm that made the building feel smaller, almost tucked into itself. Five-year-old Lydia sat cross-legged on the cold floor, her tiny fingers curled around the worn hem of her dress. She had cried earlier, though she didn’t remember why. She cried often back then, quietly, secretly, because she always felt like something was missing.
Sister Yanni found her like that, sitting alone by the window, her dark hair sticking to her damp cheeks.
“Lydia,” the twenty-one-year-old woman called gently, her voice warm enough to melt a gold bar, “there you are.”
Lydia looked up, her eyes large and soft, the kind of eyes that made adults overprotective without meaning to be. “Sister Yanni…?” she whispered, though she wasn’t sure what she wanted to say.
Sister Yanni knelt beside her. “You’re trembling. Did the other kids upset you again?”
Lydia shook her head. “No. I… I just had a dream.” Her voice shook. “I saw… I saw a woman with my face.”
That made Sister Yanni freeze, not visibly, but internally, flinching as though someone had struck a nerve. She had always known this day would come. Lydia was too smart, too observant, too emotionally intense for her age. She noticed things children weren’t meant to notice. Yanni knew that even if she told Lydia a huge secret, she'd forget it the next day since she was a child.
“Come,” Sister Yanni said softly, holding out her hand. “Let’s go somewhere quieter.”
She led Lydia down the dim hallway, past the dorm rooms, past the old chapel door, to a small office Lydia had never been allowed inside before. The room smelled faintly of old paper and sandalwood. There were dusty books and a large wooden chest in the corner.
Sister Yanni closed the door gently. Lydia felt her stomach twist. Adults only closed doors when things were important. Or bad.
“Lydia,” she said, sitting her down on the small couch, “I think it’s time you knew the truth.”
The truth. Little Lydia had no idea what that meant, but she nodded fearfully.
Sister Yanni took a long breath. “Your parents… weren’t poor. They weren’t abandoned travelers or nameless faces like some of the files say. They were….” her voice softened, “...the owners of this orphanage.”
Lydia blinked. “My… parents?”
Her tiny fingers curled tighter into her dress. “I lived here… with them?”
“Yes, little star,” Sister Yanni whispered. “This place was your home before you could even walk.”
Lydia felt something warm and painful bloom in her chest. “Then… then why am I not with them now? Where… where did they go?” The question had always lived inside her, unspoken, a quiet ache.
Sister Yanni’s eyes glistened. “Lydia… they didn’t leave you. They were taken.”
“T-taken?” Lydia echoed, unable to understand.
Yanni paused, wondering if she should be saying this to a five-year-old. “They were killed.”
The word hung in the room, heavier than stone. Lydia’s breathing stopped. It just stopped.
Her heart beat too fast, too loud, and she felt the world tilt. “No,” she whispered, “no… no…” She shook her head fiercely. “But you said they were nice. They were kind. Everyone likes kind people.”
Sister Yanni placed a shaking hand on her tiny shoulder. “Your parents were good, Lydia. Too good. They gave most of their money to the poor, to the elderly, to the abandoned children. They refused to let the Alpha’s Werewolf Alliance extort them.”
Lydia didn’t fully understand extort at that age. But she understood good. She understood killed.
“Why would the Alphas be angry?” she asked, her voice breaking.
“Because good people threaten greedy ones,” Sister Yanni whispered. “Your parents helped too many people. They refused to bend to the Alliance. They refused to give them control of this place.” She held Lydia’s small hands gently. “So the Alphas got rid of them.”
Tears slid down Lydia’s cheeks silently. She didn’t sob. She just stared.
“My parents died… because they were helping people?” she whispered.
“Yes.”
Lydia shut her eyes tightly, her face scrunching as though her tiny heart was being squeezed. “Then… then they were heroes.”
“Yes,” Sister Yanni breathed in relief. “But the world punished them for it.”
Silence settled, broken only by Lydia’s soft sniffles.
After a long moment, the little girl wiped her face with her palms, shaky but determined. Her voice changed, quiet but fierce. Something ancient and wounded flickered in her small chest.
“I’ll protect the orphanage now,” she said.
Sister Yanni blinked. “Lydia-”
“No.” Lydia stood, shoulders trembling but stubborn, as if she could hold up the world with sheer defiance. “I’ll protect it. I’ll protect the kids. I’ll protect everyone. I will protect you.” Her small hands balled into fists. “I’ll do whatever it takes… whatever I need to do.”
Her voice was shaking, but her eyes were burning, burning like the spark of something unstoppable.
“And I’ll avenge them,” she whispered, almost too softly. “I’ll finish what they started.”
Sister Yanni froze, stunned at how grief had carved something powerful into the little girl.
“Lydia,” she whispered, “you don’t understand the dangers-”
“I don’t care, sister.” Lydia’s voice cracked, but it didn’t break. “If the Alpha’s Alliance killed them… then I won’t stop until I make sure nobody hurts kids or poor people again.”
Her tiny chest rose and fell, fury and sorrow living inside one fragile body. “I promise,” she whispered into the quiet night. “Even if I lose my memory or get reborn, I vow to carry out their revenge.” She promised a vow that would follow her forever.
Sister Yanni pulled her into a tight embrace, her tears falling into the little girl’s hair.
“Oh, Lydia… my brave little star.”
But Lydia didn’t cry anymore. The pain had hardened into something else. Something cold. Something fierce.
At five years old, she made a promise, one that would shape her life, her love, her future. A promise that would one day drag her straight into the war of wolves, Alphas, demons, and alliances she’d never asked for.
—
A WEEK AGO (Hospital Room, about five chapters back)
Right after Lydia wakes up with the dream/flashback of her parents, Yanni's hands are on her head, murmuring; “This is the truth”
The beeping machines faded into the background as Lydia slowly opened her eyes. Her throat felt stiff, her vision foggy, but one thing was crystal clear, she had been crying. The kind of crying that comes from deep inside, from old wounds that never really closed.
Sister Yanni stood beside her bed, wiping Lydia’s cheeks gently with trembling fingers.
“I just transferred part of my memories to you,” she whispered, her voice soft but shaken. “Lydia… you need it more. You need clarity.”
Lydia blinked, confused, overwhelmed, still seeing flashes of the past behind her eyelids, her parents smiling, her mother’s warm hands, her father’s exhausted but kind eyes. The old office. The rain. The vow.
All of it.
“I… I think I saw them,” she whispered, her voice trembling like a fragile note. “I saw Mama… I saw Papa. They were running the orphanage. They were… they were helping people. Sister Yanni… in my past life why did I forget all that? Why did I fail to get revenge in high school?”
Sister Yanni sat on the edge of the bed slowly, like the truth weighed down her bones.
“You didn’t forget,” she murmured. “Your mind buried it. After they died, you were too young, too heartbroken. You cried every night for months, until you fainted from exhaustion.” Yanni swallowed. “I thought losing those memories would help you heal. But I was wrong.”
Lydia felt her throat tighten. “So… everything I saw… it was real?”
“Yes,” Yanni whispered. “Your parents were the owners of the orphanage. They loved you deeply, and they loved those children. They gave everything they had.” Her voice wavered, her eyes teary. “That kindness… made them enemies of the Werewolf and Alpha's Alliance.”
Lydia gripped the blanket, her knuckles going white. The anger she felt as a five-year-old flickered again, older now, sharper, more dangerous.
“They killed them,” Lydia said, her voice breaking. “The Alliance… killed them because they helped people.”
Yanni nodded painfully. “Their generosity cut into the Alliance’s extortion money. So the Alpha retaliated.” Her hands trembled. “He wanted obedience. Your parents refused. And you… You were supposed to die with them, Lydia.”
Lydia’s breath froze.
She had always wondered why she was found alone that night, why she survived when nobody else did… and why Yanni always looked at her with this constant fear.
Yanni continued, voice cracking:
“I hid you in the storage room for years. That was your mother's last wish. They accepted their faith, but refused you go down with them. I lied and told the officers I had already transported you to a safe house. Lydia… you only survived because of that lie.”
A tear slipped down Lydia’s cheek.
“But why didn’t I remember this before? Why?” she whispered with an anguished spirit, blaming herself for everything.
Yanni stared at her with a mix of guilt and sorrow. “Because you were a child.”
Lydia pressed her hand against her chest as if trying to stop it from breaking apart again.
“And now… after the accident,” Yanni whispered, “your mind unlocked everything again. The trauma came back with it.”
Lydia exhaled shakily. “So… the dream wasn’t a dream.”
“No,” Yanni said softly. “It was your past vow returning. Your mother was a half-wolf and your father was human, before they died, they blessed you. Begging the moon goddess to watch over you and send helpers.”
Lydia chuckled bitterly. “You must have been my mother's best friend.”
Yanni giggled and moved around the room. “I wouldn't say best friend, but your mother did raise me after our parents’ death. I'm a full blooded wolf, and your mom is my elder sister.”