Arya.
The room felt suffocating as his laughter echoed through the air, mocking and cruel. I stared at him in confusion, a knot tightening in my stomach. Was this some sick joke, or did he really mean what he said?
"What do you mean by that?" I whispered, the words barely escaping my lips. A slight sob trembled in my voice, revealing the vulnerability that I tried so hard to conceal. I needed an explanation, a lifeline to anchor me to the reality I once knew.
He looked at me, his eyes devoid of the familiarity I had always found in them. Did he mean to disown me? Was this some cruel game he played to shatter the last remnants of my trust in him?
"You are not my daughter, Arya," he replied coldly, his voice slicing through the air like a bitter wind. "And I am not your Father. Never have been, never will be. Get that into your thick skull."
His words hung in the air, heavy and cruel. I felt the ground shift beneath my feet, the foundations of my reality crumbling. The man I had called father, the one I thought cared about me. I wasn't his daughter.
A wave of disbelief and heartache washed over me. The tears I had been holding back streamed down my face, each drop a painful reminder of the shattered illusions I had built my life upon. I couldn't comprehend the magnitude of his revelation.
My thoughts raced, desperately searching for an explanation, to make sense of the chaos. Was he lying? The uncertainty gnawed at me, feeding my desperation for answers.
"You're lying," I whispered, my voice barely audible, my hands trembling. But his gaze remained unyielding, amused by my torment. The pain of his revelation cut deep, leaving me feeling adrift, as if the ground beneath me had crumbled away.
If I was not his daughter, then who was I? The questions swirled in my mind, a tempest of confusion and disbelief. I couldn't fathom a reality where he wasn't my father. It explained so much, the indifference, the cruelty, the relentless torment. I pushed aside the searing pain and focused on the one thing that mattered now – finding out who I truly was.
His laughter died down, leaving a chilling silence in its wake. "You were a means to an end, Arya. A tool, nothing more. You barely played your part, and now it's time for you to accept the truth. You were never my daughter."
A lump formed in my throat, choking back the sobs threatening to escape. This couldn't be true. I wasn't his daughter? The pain threatened to consume me.
But I couldn't let this revelation paralyze me. I needed to understand who I was, and what happened to my real parents. The possibility of a different life, one filled with love and laughter, haunted my thoughts. I needed answers.
"Who am I then?" I managed to whisper, my gaze locked onto his, a mix of desperation and disbelief etched on my face. His chuckle echoed in the room, a sound that grated against my already shattered composure.
"Answer me!" I screamed, the desperation and frustration bubbling over. "Who the hell am I?"
"I'm enjoying this though," he chuckled, a sinister delight dancing in his eyes. "Look who's begging for answers now. Little shabby Arya. I thought you were bold."
His taunts fueled the growing anger within me. I could feel the heat rising, but I fought to maintain control. If I allowed him to provoke me further, I would lose the chance to uncover the truth. I needed to play his game strategically.
"I thought you had something important to say," I retorted, my tone dripping with disdain. "If all you have are insults, save them, Robert.
He frowned, taken aback by my lack of interest.
I waited, my facade of disinterest masking the turmoil inside me. Patience was my weapon now. He thrived on the power of withholding information, reveling in the discomfort of others.
As if on cue, he began to speak, his tone colder than before. "I used to work in your parent's house as a servant," he revealed, his words hanging in the air.
"A mere servant!" he spat as if disgusted by the memory. "While I was there, I overheard a rumor that you were chosen as a daughter of the moon goddess."
"You were in my parents' house?" I spat the words out, a mix of disbelief and anger coloring my tone. His eyes, cold and calculating, met mine with a sinister glint.
"Yes," he drawled, relishing in my discomfort. "I served your family faithfully, Arya. Faithful enough to gain their trust and betray them."
My mind raced, trying to reconcile the image of this conniving man with the servant who had once been part of my home. "You were chosen, Arya. Chosen as the daughter of the moon goddess."
How could he know such a thing? The revelation was a whirlwind of confusion, and I struggled to make sense of the pieces falling into place. He had known my destiny before I did and he’d stolen me from my parents.
A bitter laugh escaped his lips, mocking my bewilderment. "Surprised, aren't you? Knowing you were the moon goddess's favored one, I thought that would make you useful to me."
His words hung in the air, heavy with a malevolence that made my skin crawl. The memories of the torment he and his daughter had subjected me to flashed before my eyes. The sleepless nights, the whispered insults, the endless cruelty – it all made sense now. I was nothing more than a pawn in his twisted plan.
"Why? Why put me through all that?" I demanded, my voice trembling with a mixture of rage and hurt.
He leaned back, a sinister smile playing on his lips. "You were supposed to be my ticket to greatness, Arya. I thought your powers, your connection to the moon goddess, would elevate me. But you proved utterly useless. So, I had to endure your presence until I could find a way to be rid of you."
The revelation hit me like a jolt. A daughter of the moon goddess? The pieces of the puzzle started to fall into place, but the picture remained incomplete.
As if sensing my resolve, he continued to mock me, relishing in my desperation. "You were always so confident, Arya. The daughter of the moon goddess, destined for greatness. But look at you now, broken and lost."
I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. The pain was a stark reminder of my reality. He had known about my fate, and yet, he had used me as a pawn in his own ambitions.
I glared at him, the flames of anger now mingling with the ache of betrayal. "You used me," I spat, the words bitter on my tongue. "All this time, you used me for your selfish desires."
He laughed, the sound echoing in the room like a sinister melody. "And what will you do about it, Arya? You're nothing."
His words were a cruel reminder of the illusions I had clung to. I could feel the sting of tears threatening to spill over. What was the point of being the daughter of the moon goddess if I couldn't even transform early?