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This hideout had been built many years ago, a shelter their mother had prepared, anticipating the inevitable.

The two were huddled together, their backs pressed against the worn and cold wood, trying to control their ragged breathing.

The air inside the small compartment was thick, heavy with fear and sweat.

They tried to keep their panic under control, but both their hearts were beating so fast and so loud that they feared even the crows on the branches outside could hear them.

Both were sixteen years old, their minds struggling to process what was about to happen, but a part of them already knew there was no turning back.

"Stay hidden, no matter what happens," their mother whispered... minutes before locking them in the secret panel.

The words echoed in the mind of the older sister, well... they had been born together, just a few minutes apart, it seemed as if their mother had bewitched them not to move, even when their instincts screamed to run, scream, do anything to change this situation.

Outside the hideout, the silence of the cabin was broken by heavy, abrupt footsteps.

Someone was approaching.

The wood of the floor creaked under the dirty, worn boots, the sound sinister and full of dark intent.

With each creak, the older sister's stomach turned, a mix of fear and despair. She held her sister's hand tightly, trying to convey the security she herself didn't feel. Her sister's skin was cold and clammy, as if the fear was draining the warmth from her body.

The sound of footsteps abruptly stopped outside the cabin. She held her breath. She knew the men were there.

Despite being against it... They knew what their mother did... Yes, their mother, she killed people to be able to feed them. Supporting two daughters alone in such a world... It was kill or be killed.

There was something monstrous about the calm before the chaos; the tension in the air was so thick it could almost be cut with a knife.

Then, the sound she feared most: the door was smashed open with a crash that made both of them jump, hitting their heads against the wood that hid them. She bit her lips to keep from screaming, tasting the metallic tang of blood. Through the small crack in the wood, the older sister peeked at what was happening in the room.

Their mother, a tall and strong woman, her face marked by the scars of life and battles, stood in the middle of the room. She showed no fear, though the situation was desperate. She stood firm, chin raised, eyes fixed on the men invading her sanctuary.

They were men from her own guild, assassins her mother had worked with for so many years, even... friends of the trade, if you could call them that. Their faces were shadowed, but she recognized them. There was a time when those same men would come to the cabin in times of peace, as friends, as comrades. Now, betrayal showed in their harsh, relentless expressions.

One of them, the leader, a man with a stern, scarred face, stepped forward.

The two recognized that empty, cold look; it was the look of someone who had taken many lives and felt nothing while doing it. In his hand, a blade gleamed in the faint torchlight, a promise of imminent death.

"Do you really think you can betray us and get away with it, Novah?" His voice was cold, icy like the blade he wielded, like the death he brought.

Their mother didn't back down. Her voice, when she spoke, was firm, without a trace of fear, only a bitter acceptance of the fate that awaited her. "I didn't betray anyone. I just asked to leave. I can't keep living like this."

The leader didn't respond immediately. He watched the woman before him with a look that mixed disdain and a kind of perverse admiration. There was a silence, a moment when the world seemed to stop, frozen in time. Then, like lightning ripping through the sky before a storm, he lunged forward.

The sound of the blade piercing flesh was muffled by their mother's body, but still mortally clear to the sisters. Cristine felt as if the blow had pierced her own chest, the pain of loss and terror mingling in a way that left her breathless.

"Ahh..." A cry of pain escaped their mother's lips, echoing through the small cabin, but it was abruptly cut off when the blade struck her heart.

The older sister felt her sister tremble beside her, knowing she was struggling against the same desperate impulse to run to their mother. Hot tears streamed down both their faces, wetting the hand the older sister used to cover her mouth. The younger sister's body shook, her panic mingling with the understanding of a tragedy she wasn't mature enough to fully process.

The older sister wanted to scream, wanted to run to their mother, but her mother's words echoed in her mind, keeping her still. They couldn't be discovered, they couldn't die too. She knew that. She knew that the only thing they could do was survive, even at a terrible cost.

The guild men watched as their mother fell slowly to the ground, blood gushing from the wound, staining the wooden floor.

"She must have hidden the children; she was already expecting us. Ignore it." The leader wiped the blade on his dirty cloak before sheathing it with a calmness that chilled the girls' hearts. To them, it was nothing more than another day's work, another death to add to the count.

But for the two of them, it was the end of the world.

The leader turned to his men, and the older sister held her breath again, silently praying that they would leave, that they wouldn't find the hideout. But even after being warned that they might be hidden... the assassins were meticulous. They began to search the cabin for loot, overturning furniture, breaking ceramics, looking for something, perhaps riches.

The older sister felt a cold sweat trickle down her neck, anxiety growing with every sound of breaking wood or dragged furniture. The small cabin, once a home, was being destroyed in search of the "riches" of the woman they had just murdered.

With every harsh movement, every sound echoing through the small cabin, their hearts beat harder. She knew that if the assassins found the hideout, they would be lost. The thin wood of the panel separating them from the outside world seemed increasingly fragile, as if it could give way at any moment and expose them.

The sound of the men approaching made the older sister bite her lips again, so hard she almost split them. The physical pain was the only thing keeping her anchored to reality, preventing her from being consumed by the abyss of terror that threatened to engulf her.

Then, one of the men came dangerously close to the panel. He stopped, staring at the wall for a moment. They could barely breathe. She was about to close her eyes, bracing for the worst, when a voice from outside broke the deadly silence.

"Come on, we're done here. There's nothing more, Novah was too poor, what a disappointment." It was the leader, impatient, already tired of the task. The other men hesitated, but eventually, they backed away.

The men left the cabin, and she heard their footsteps fading into the night.

Only when she was sure they had truly gone did they allow themselves to release the breath they had been holding.

And what remained of that day? Only one feeling...

Revenge... a primal feeling that has always followed beings.

Revenge leads to ruin, and that was certain. How many times has a story of Revenge ended in dissatisfaction?

But for Cristine? Revenge was just the path she chose to end her life, either by defeating her enemy or dying.

She had prepared for years and years, living with the enemy, living as the enemy, walking with the enemy, becoming one with her enemy.

Every failure, every small probability she had already calculated, every minor obstacle had been removed, and now, only a red carpet had been laid for the direction of the end.

She was a cruel and disgusting woman in the eyes of ordinary humans, even to cultivators, she was brutally filthy. And it didn't matter to her or her beliefs...

"I have come again, my lord." Her angelic voice rang out within the cathedral; she was a woman of faith who followed only one God...

"Lord Thanatos, God of the Dead... I come to seek your blessing for one more hunt." She requested, like a prayer, her hands together, fingers intertwined, everything just necessary to conclude.

"I regret to say that this will be the last time I speak to Your Excellency, My Lord," she said, her hand trembling with rage, her bloodlust bathed in resentment, her fury, her existence was solely to end this incident... She was solely driven by her anger, and now, more than ever, she was letting herself go...

As she prayed, footsteps began to echo from behind her... The woman, identical to her, looked into her eyes.

Yes, twin sisters... a sight frowned upon by the world, identical twins were a bad omen in many cultures of the Empire.

"Sister... are you sure about this?" Yennifer asked Cristine, who remained kneeling before the statue. "Mother will rest in peace when this is over. And you will be free." Cristine said, adding a phrase.

"After the Extermination, I will rest alongside her."