Igor's POV
I stepped out of my car and stared at the little white house standing quietly before me. For several seconds, I did nothing but stare.
Ten years. Ten years had passed since I had last stood in front of this house, yet time seemed to have treated it with an almost cruel kindness. The white walls were still there, slightly faded but standing. The small windows remained untouched, and the old wooden door looked exactly as I remembered it.
Nothing had changed. Or perhaps everything had changed, and I was simply the only one who had noticed.
This was where my mother and I had lived after escaping from the man she had once been married to. It was the first place I could remember feeling safe without having to look over my shoulder, the first place where I had been allowed to be a child without the constant reminder that the world was a dangerous place. It was also where I had spent the happiest two months of my childhood.
Two months. That was all I had been given. Funny, isn't it? How the shortest moments of happiness sometimes leave the longest shadow.
I swallowed the lump forming in my throat and pushed open the front door. The hinges creaked, and a familiar scent drifted toward me, tightening something inside my chest. The old furniture, the faded carpet, and the little marks on the walls that I remembered making when I was younger were all still there.
For a moment, I stood in the doorway, unable to convince myself that I was really back. Then, without warning, the memories came rushing in, and suddenly, I wasn't eighteen anymore. I was ten.
"Armor, what should we have for dinner tonight?"
My mother stood in the kitchen with her hair tied loosely behind her head, watching me with an amused smile.
"Burger and yogurt!" I answered without hesitation.
She placed a hand against her chest as though I had personally offended her. "Burger again? Or are you trying to turn us into cupcakes?"
I burst out laughing. "You're already a cupcake, Mom."
She raised an eyebrow. "A cupcake?"
I knew immediately that I had made a terrible mistake. Before I could escape, she caught me around the waist and began tickling me.
"You little sour mouth! Is that a compliment, or are you making fun of me?"
"Mummy!" I squealed, twisting in her arms. "That tickles!"
"Mummy loves you." She showered my face with playful kisses until I could barely stop laughing. "My little Armor."
I loved that name. I loved the way she said it, as though I were something precious she had been trusted to protect. Whenever she called me that, I felt invincible, as if nothing in the world could ever hurt me while she was around.
Eventually, I surrendered. "Okay, okay! I give up. Let's have spaghetti, burger, and chicken."
My mother immediately released me and stood upright, giving me an exaggerated salute. "Spaghetti, burger, and chicken coming right up, sir!"
I laughed so hard that my stomach hurt.
It was such a simple memory. Nothing extraordinary had happened that evening. There had been no grand celebration, no expensive gifts, and no promises about the future. Just my mother, a ridiculous argument about dinner, and laughter filling a little house. Back then, I hadn't understood how precious ordinary happiness could be. I hadn't known that one day I would be willing to trade almost anything just to experience another evening like that.
The memory shifted. I watched the younger version of myself sitting at the dining table with my mother. We were laughing, feeding each other, and arguing over who had more food on their plate. She even stole a piece of chicken from mine. I protested, and she laughed.
For one impossible moment, I was there with her again.
I closed my eyes, desperately trying to hold on to the warmth of it. Just a little longer. Please!.
When I opened them, the table was empty. The laughter had vanished. The little boy was gone, and my mother was gone. Only the silent dining room remained. I stared at the empty chairs, my hands hanging uselessly at my sides. For one foolish second, I almost convinced myself that I had merely watched a movie trailer playing inside my head. But the ache in my chest was real, and so was the silence.
I had returned to this house hoping to find something I had lost, although I couldn't have explained what that something was. Perhaps I had expected the walls to remember her. Perhaps some childish part of me still believed that if I returned to the right place, I might find the right moment waiting for me.
I drew a slow breath. "Pathetic," I muttered to myself.
Then my phone vibrated and I pulled it from my pocket. Twink. A single notification glowed on the screen.
'Come inside the sitting room.'
My brows drew together as I glanced toward the hallway. Whoever had sent the message was obviously taking things too far. I had no patience for games, especially not today. I slipped the phone back into my pocket and walked toward the sitting room.
The moment I entered, another wave of familiarity washed over me. The same cushions rested on the sofa, the same faded carpet covered the floor, and the same television stood against the wall, its dark screen reflecting the room around it. It was as though time had stopped inside this house.
Then I saw her. My mother.
She stumbled through the doorway, one hand pressed against her abdomen.
"Mom!"
I rushed toward her. She looked pale and exhausted, and something about the way she held herself made my stomach twist. Yet, even then, she managed to smile at me.
"Shhh, sweetheart. Mum is sorry for waking you."
I stared at her, unable to understand why she looked as though she had been through a terrible struggle.
"You're hurt."
My voice trembled.
She shook her head quickly. "It's nothing. Just a small cut."
A lie. Even at ten, I had known when my mother was lying to me. She had always been terrible at pretending that everything was fine when it wasn't. Her smile could fool strangers, but it had never fooled me.
She caught my hand and pulled me toward her bedroom.
"Listen to me, sweetheart. I need you to hide inside the closet."
"The closet?"
"Yes." She glanced toward the bedroom door before looking back at me. "There's a passage behind it. It will lead you underground and eventually to the forest."
I stared at her. A passage? Underground? Why was she telling me this?
"I had a light installed inside," she continued, her breathing becoming increasingly strained. "But if you can't find the switch, don't stop. Keep moving until you find your way out."
I searched her face for an explanation. "Then what?"
"When you reach the forest, wait for me."
Her eyes met mine. "And if it takes me too long to come for you..."
She paused. For the first time, I noticed the fear behind her smile.
"Don't look for me."
I shook my head immediately. "No."
"Listen to me, Armor."
"Mom, stop talking like that."
"Sweetheart—"
"No!" I tightened my grip on her hand. "Why are you saying all these things? Why aren't you hiding with me? Are you trying to abandon me?"
The moment the words left my mouth, I wished I could take them back. My mother's expression crumpled, and she pulled me into her arms, holding me against her chest.
"No, sweetheart. Never."
Her voice broke on the last word. She cupped my face, brushing away the tears gathering beneath my eyes.
"Mummy loves you. Things are just complicated right now."
I wanted to believe her. I wanted to believe that whatever was happening could be explained, that she would soon laugh at my fears and tell me I had nothing to worry about.
That was what mothers did, wasn't it? They made frightening things seem smaller. They made the world feel safe again.
My mother pressed her forehead against mine. "Mummy loves you so much that she can't bear the thought of losing you. That's why I'm doing this."
Footsteps sounded somewhere beyond the bedroom. Heavy ones. My mother stiffened, then squeezed my hands.
"Even if I'm not always with you, I'll always watch over you. Always."
She drew a shaky breath. "And whatever happens on your journey, don't trust everyone. Trust only your inner self."
Tears burned my eyes. "Then promise me you'll be okay."
For a moment, she said nothing. She simply looked at me, her eyes moving over my face as though she were trying to memorize every little detail. Then she smiled.
"I promise."
I wanted to ask her to promise again. I wanted to make her say it until I could no longer hear the fear in her voice. But another sound came from the front of the house. A loud crash, someone had forced the entrance door open.
My mother's expression changed instantly. "Go."
She pushed me toward the closet.
I stumbled backward, shaking my head. "Mummy—"
"Now, Armor!"
I had never heard her speak to me like that before. The urgency in her voice frightened me more than the crash had. I turned toward the closet, my eyes filling with fresh tears. My legs felt strangely heavy, as though my body understood something my mind refused to accept.
I didn't want to go. I wanted to stay beside her. I wanted to be brave enough to protect her the way she had always protected me, but I was ten years old, and I was terrified.
I stepped inside the closet. My mother moved toward the hidden mechanism behind it and began entering a sequence of codes. One. Two. Three. Her fingers trembled as she reached for the final number.
Then—
Click.
The bedroom door swung open.
A man wearing a mask stood in the doorway.
"Liv."
His voice was cold, almost conversational.
"Long time no see."
My mother's body stiffened. Even from inside the closet, I could see the way her shoulders tensed.
The stranger tilted his head. "I hope those silver bullets are still doing their work."
My stomach twisted. Silver bullets? What was he talking about?
My mother slowly turned toward him. "Seems you didn't do your research well."
Despite her injuries, she straightened her back. "I'm Liv. I don't give up easily."
The stranger gave a quiet laugh. "Then I suppose this will be your first time losing."
He lunged.
My mother barely had time to react before he attacked her again.
"Mom!"
The cry nearly escaped me. I clapped both hands over my mouth, forcing the sound back down my throat. I wanted to run to her. I wanted to throw myself between them, even though I had no idea what I could possibly do.
But my feet refused to move.
I stood frozen in the darkness, watching the person I loved most struggle to stay standing.
"Give me the child," the man ordered.
My mother looked toward the closet. For a moment, our eyes met. Then she smiled.
"In your dreams, moron."
Something changed. The air seemed to tighten around her, and a strange sound filled the room. Her body shifted, her form expanding as fur spread across her skin. I stared in disbelief.
Within seconds, a massive brown wolf stood where my mother had been. I couldn't breathe.
My mother was a wolf.
The realization should have frightened me, but I was too shocked to understand what I was seeing.
The masked man stepped back. Then his body began to change too. A huge black wolf emerged, its dark eyes fixed on my mother.
As it moved, something caught my attention. A strange mark was etched across its limbs.
An anchor.
I stared at it, my heart pounding. I didn't know what the symbol meant. I only knew that there was something deeply wrong about it.
The two wolves clashed. The sound of their struggle filled the bedroom, and I pressed myself farther into the closet, trembling so badly that my teeth began to chatter. My mother fought with everything she had left. She lunged at the black wolf, forcing it backward. For a moment, I thought she might win.
Then she stumbled and the black wolf advanced.
She got back up yet it attacked again.
She fell.
And still, she refused to surrender.
"Give up," the black wolf growled.
My mother didn't answer. She rose once more.
That was my mother. Stubborn. Fearless. Unwilling to surrender, even when the world gave her every reason to.
I had always believed she could overcome anything. Watching her struggle, I realized how little I had understood about courage. Perhaps courage wasn't the absence of fear. Perhaps it was choosing to keep standing when fear was all you had left. I squeezed my eyes shut. I wanted to scream. I wanted to help her. But I was only a child, hidden in a closet, with nothing but my fear and a promise I didn't know how to keep.
All I could do was cry silently while the woman who had called me her Armor fought to give me a chance to live.
Then I heard something strange.
A faint mechanical click.
I opened my eyes. Through the narrow gap in the closet door, I saw my mother move toward the drawer beside the bed. She was barely standing, yet she reached for it with the last of her strength and entered another code.
The black wolf turned toward her in confusion.
A moment later, the hidden passage opened.
My mother's gaze shifted toward the closet. Toward me.
And then she smiled.
It wasn't the smile she gave me when we joked about dinner. It wasn't the smile she wore when she wanted me to believe that everything was fine. This smile was different. It was gentle and unbearably sad.
The smile of a mother saying goodbye.
My vision blurred. I shook my head, unable to accept what I was seeing.
No.
She had promised.
She had promised she would come for me.
My mother held my gaze for one final moment. Then she turned back toward the black wolf.
I stepped into the passage.
"Mom..."
She didn't answer.
I took another step, desperately searching her face for some sign that she would follow me. She was still looking at me, and I wanted to run back to her. I wanted to beg her to come with me.
But the words caught in my throat, and my legs carried me farther into the passage.
The darkness swallowed the room behind me.
"Mom?"
My voice echoed through the narrow tunnel.
There was no answer.
I kept moving. I had no idea how long the passage was or where it would lead. I only knew that my mother had told me to keep going, and I had promised myself I would listen.
So I held on to her words.
Don't look for me.
I didn't understand why she had said them. I didn't understand why she had sent me away. I didn't understand why she had to stay behind. But I understood one thing, she had promised to come back and I believed her.
I would wait in the forest for as long as it took. A day. A week. A month. However long she needed.
Because my mother was Liv. My mother was strong. My mother never gave up and mothers didn't break promises to their children.
At least, that was what I believed as the passage carried me farther away from the only home where I had ever felt safe. I held on to that belief long after the darkness swallowed the last trace of light.
I would wait for her, no matter how long it took. I would wait because my mother had promised she was coming back.
And I believed her.