It was a Christmas night. Outside, the world sparkled under a blanket of freshly fallen snow. Street lamps glowed softly, and the faint sound of carolers drifted through the cold air. Every home seemed alive with warmth, laughter, and the smell of roasted chestnuts and cinnamon. But for Lance, twelve, and his six-year-old sister Maria, that Christmas night would be remembered for something far darker.
"Lance… what are we going to do?" Maria whispered, her small hand clutching his sleeve tightly. Her eyes, wide and frightened, searched his face for reassurance. Usually, she loved Christmas—the lights, the decorations, the magic in the air. Tonight, the magic had been replaced by fear.
Lance knelt down, brushing the snow from her hair. "We'll be fine, Maria. As long as we have each other, nothing can touch us." He tried to sound brave, but the tight knot in his stomach made it difficult.
From inside the house came the cruel laughter of their father, sharp and mocking, followed by the sneering voice of their stepmother. "Out! Both of you! You're worthless. And don't think about stepping foot in here until you've learned some manners!"
Lance's hands tightened around the small bag of clothes he had packed earlier, the only belongings they were allowed to take. Maria's eyes filled with tears, and for a moment, his chest tightened so much it was hard to breathe.
This isn't fair. Not one bit.
He lifted Maria into his arms. "We're leaving now," he said firmly. "No one can hurt us anymore. I promise."
Maria clung to him, shivering. "But… it's Christmas, Lance. They—"
"They don't care," he interrupted gently, brushing a lock of hair from her face. "But we will. We'll make our own Christmases, our own lives. And one day… we'll make them pay for what they did."
The wind whipped around them as they stepped out into the snowy night. The world was quiet, eerily so, except for the crunch of snow beneath Lance's boots. He glanced back once at the house—warm, bright, and full of laughter that no longer included them. A surge of anger mixed with sorrow filled him. He clenched his fists.
They think they've won. But they haven't seen anything yet.
The streets were dark, almost deserted. Most families were celebrating inside, and the cold city seemed to mock their smallness. Lance tightened his grip on Maria. She shivered violently against him, and he wrapped his coat around her.
"I'm scared, Lance," she admitted softly.
"I know," he whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "I'm scared too. But we have to be strong. We don't have anyone else but us. And I swear… I will never let anyone hurt you again."
As they walked into the night, the snowflakes settled on Lance's hair and shoulders like tiny reminders of the innocence he had lost. That night, he felt the first spark of the fire that would drive him for the rest of his life—a mix of love, protection, and revenge.
They found a small, abandoned shelter near the outskirts of the city, huddled together for warmth, and watched the distant Christmas lights flicker. Maria, exhausted, finally closed her eyes and whispered, "Will things ever be normal again?"
Lance held her tightly, staring at the glowing horizon. "Normal? No. But better… yes. I promise, Maria. Better, and one day… we'll have everything they took from us—and more."
That Christmas night, Lance vowed silently: he would rise. He would become powerful, unstoppable, and no one would ever dare cast them out again.
And with that vow, a twelve-year-old boy and his six-year-old sister began a journey that would change their lives forever.