“Grandma, read this book to me today!” said the little boy, taking a picture book from the shelf and holding it out to his grandmother Camilla, who sat reclined in her chair with her knitting. The hearth flickered with warm light, casting a soft glow onto the boy’s smiling face.
Camilla put down her knitting and took the book from the boy’s small hands.
“This one again? You really do love this tale, don’t you, Mikhail?”
The book was Mikhail’s favorite, and she had read it to him hundreds of times over—evident in its large patches of wear and tear. The damage to the picture on the cover was particularly severe, and it had long since worn away completely. Despite this, Camilla still remembered it well: a lone figure with an ebony sword planted before them, staring out into the distance from the top of a hill. The book was called The Chronicles of Duvedirica.
“Yeah, it’s the best! ’Cause the main character is the strongest out of all my books!” said Mikhail, huffing as he waved his little hands and feet excitedly about in an imitation of the hero from the book. Camilla couldn’t help but smile at his charming antics. No matter the era, little boys would always love heroes.
“Very well. Come over here, then,” said Camilla, gesturing for him to come and sit on her lap. Mikhail plopped himself down with a grin. She felt the youthful warmth of his body when he leaned back against her.
“Come on, read!” he said, swinging his feet as he looked up at her expectantly. Camilla gently stroked his silvery hair, and opened to the first page.
“Once upon a time, there lived a little girl who was raised by a god of death.”
This is a tale from long, long ago—the tale of the girl they once called the Ebony Hero.