"He's alive.." He said. "Marco, he's-" As he pulled away, mom had already made her way and was tucking on his sleeve. "He's alive, they're bringing him in." "Thank you God," My mother pleaded through her yelps and cries, and pulled him in her arms the same way she did when we were just little kids.. My heart fell to the pit of my stomach.. It was relief I felt.. It was- some kind of joy that at least some of us made it alive.. And my blurry vision moved as I searched for that familiar face, for Marco to make his way in.. Perhaps father with him as well. And he did. Marco was carried inside, with ripped clothes and bloody wounds, unlike Jack that was untouched somehow.. He unconscious and the men that carried him in were just as weak, just as bloody.. My mother yelped and released yet another cry, rushing towards Marco this time as Jack stood frozen beside me. And I.. I hated myself in that moment. I hated myself because my eyes searched the man that carried Marco.. My gaze focusing around him, behind him.. I hated myself for almost feeling disappointment.. Disappointment for not seeing my father rush through that door in that moment. Tall like a mountain and just as strong as one. The man that everyone feared and adored was supposed to run through those doors unharmed. Angry from what they tried doing to us. He was supposed to rush in there and hug me. Give commands and make me angry for not listening to my suggestions, but he was supposed to be there. With us. Yet such thing didn't happen. And my chest fell from that heavy exhale. My eyes burned with sudden tears of relief and realization that.. That the one man I loved and trusted the most throughout my entire life was gone.. Death within minutes.. Seconds. My father. Dead, because of me. My lips parted for more air.. I had let tears escape and I wasn't even aware of it. I was glued to my spot, not even realizing that Jack had rushed to help the others.. To help Marco. My hand moved on its own, searching for something.. For someone. For some kind of support.. Not an emotional support because I believe there was no such thing at that point.. Bur for some physical support as my knees gave out on me.. And I had forgotten I had Christian beside me.. I still could not believe he was there, in my family house, when all of it happened.. How he got there, I had no clue and my mind was too lost to even think about it in that moment.. But what I did know was that his arms held me the very second I turned to him.. The very second be saw my weakness.. I felt his lips against my neck.. I didn't even realize that I had wrapped my arms around his neck, that I was crying on his shoulder.. His arms were tight around my waist, over my back.. I knew he was not letting go. I felt his heart almost beat against mine.. Almost match mine.. I felt him kiss my shoulder, my neck, my hair, and I knew.. I knew he was not ever letting go of me. And it gave me the kind of relief that almost had me trembling.. Relief and support that tamed the grief that burned as strongly as those flames that took my father's life did.. The brokenness that was daggering my chest.. He seemed to understand it. My mind was already at war.. I felt shattered. I felt like my heart had been ripped from my chest. And I cried for my father.. I cried from grief and brokenness. I cried from that loss of senses and disbelief that he was gone. And at the same time, those tears fell as relief that my brothers were alive.. They fell because I was thankful I was in the arms of the man I loved, and that he loved me as much as to not let go in such moment of disaster.. In such moment of chaos and demolishing. Oh those tears were filled with grief and pain, with consolation and comfort.. With rage and fury.. Thriving inside me, burning and growing inside me withe each second that passed after the simple sight of those flames.. For the blood of my own, spilled and used, lost and gone, I felt fury growing inside me like never before. The kind that could not be tamed nor stopped. The kind that promised me, assured me of that picture of redness spreading on the floors of that old house.. The blood of those that threatened my own, harmed my own, took my own, on my hands. And so even in that moment of restless mind and screaming thoughts, I vowed. I vowed I would not rest until my father was revenged. Until my people were safe. Until those monsters were all dead before my own feet. ~ Amelia's POV Silence.. Silence filled the walls. It echoed through them almost.. Yet how could it be.. How could it be that those screams still echoed in my head? Each and every one of their voices was carved in my head.. And I remember them until my last breath. The screams of many, men and women, boys and girls, screaming and pleading for their own.. For their own fathers, brothers and sons.. As they watched them being set on fire.. Burning alive before their eyes. The lives of innocents taken, wasted and lost within seconds.. For those merciless monsters to succeed a threat. To show their strengths and capabilities. To show their power. And it was her voice that repeated in my head.. Lana's helpless screams that carved deeply in my memory. So much that I heard them repeatedly.. And with each blink saw those flames flash before me. The man that lead those wolves was not just a leader, but a king as well.. He was adored and admired by many.. Supported and respected by thousands.. Men from legends and songs that described his strength and honor. The moon hero, some called him. And most importantly, he was Lana's father.. Mine as well. I gulped down my burning throat. It was almost as if it was I that screamed. I closed my eyes and the picture flashed before me.. The picture of that night when I first saw him.. As Lana swung from Christian's eyes, I saw a concerned father threatening to his enemy to let his daughter go. Threatening with the simple look behind his eyes. And those were no empty threats, but the kind that everyone near knew would be provided.. And the next time I saw that man, he was running towards his own doom.. His daughter that he loved so dearly was screaming for him to stop.. And I.. Being his daughter as well witnessed his death that night too.. I watched them all burn, and heard them all scream. It seemed like it broke a part of me.. It tore my heart in pieces.. No matter the fact that he was the father I never met, the kind I never really had, he was still the man my mother once loved.. He was Lana's father as well and she was a girl I grew to care for dearly. A restless, wild young woman that showed her braveness with each step she took, the one I admired and was proud to accept as my sister.. Yet at the same time, the one that fell to her knees in front of many as she witnessed her father's life being taken in seconds from those flames. I should had accepted it sooner.. That she was my sister and Khan Morpher was my father. I should've accepted it because that way, I would've at least spoken to the man that was the very root to my family and ancestry.. I would had at least know what kind of a person my father was.. Not from up far.. No, I should've allowed myself to see his braveness and hear his story.. To see if what I heard about his honor was true.. To see if he was really my father like everyone claimed he was.