The dank smell of Kantle streets was familiar, yet far from welcoming. It had not been easy to get here, but at last she had arrived. Zoran-Thiea still couldn't believe she had come back to this place. Yet, here she was, creeping in the shadows of the streets. She was anxious to arrive at her family's house. That dreadful place she had been raised. It was an odd feeling, to be returning there now, by her own choice. Yet she wondered if any of her family had survived the battles.

It was easy to tell that Kantle had become a place of war, even more than it was before. Dark clad soldiers patrolled the streets commonly, perhaps their presence served little purpose other than a display of power in order to strike fear into the hearts of any who dare forsake the kingdom. Despite being born of this Kingdom, and even bearing her father's name, she worried her appearance alone would get her thrown into a jail cell. So she strode as hastily along as she could without making herself any more conspicuous, until at last she made her way to the large looming door of that house. 

Her heart was pounding in her chest, and nothing about the vibes she was receiving was good. Basically, she had a really bad gut feeling. As she finally worked up a tiny bit of nerve, she let her knuckles fall upon the heavy door three times, and then she waited. Immediately after she knocked upon the door, voices could be heard yelling back and forth awhile, and then abruptly the heavy door was jerked open. It was an unrecognizable woman who stood in the doorway. She had the sort of look that a cheap whore would if given a little more money than to which she was accustomed. The brilliant red lipstick she wore was a bit smudged, which was made more noticeable by the fact that her lips were pursed together. Her eyebrows were arched—one of them in particular—and her eyes were lined with a bit of black makeup. Most noticeably...her breasts hung in such a way that it seemed as though they may burst from her tightly worn corset at any moment. She stared at Zoran-Thiea like this awhile, until she realized she would have to speak the first word. "Yeah, what do you want?" The woman demanded harshly.

Zoran-Thiea cleared her throat and raised an eyebrow to match the bitchy expression of the other woman. "I'm looking for Draken-Lor." She said simply, and even as the words left her mouth the woman at the door huffed. 

"Oh! I bet you are. Are you one of his mistresses then?" She spoke accusingly. "If you think he owes you anything you're wrong you little whore—" 

"I'm his daughter. And you're the whore mistress who should be watching your mouth." Zoran-Thiea interrupt and the woman scoffed. A wild rage filled her eyes and just as she parted those filthy red lips to retort, the large shadow of a man shoved her back from the doorway as he scolded her without restrain upon his tongue. 

"Shut your mouth bitch...now who—" As he turned to see it was his daughter standing on their doorstep his expression was a bit taken aback. "What the hell are you doing here..?!" He swore as his tall stature loomed over her head. Zoran-Thiea was literally cast in his shadow, and it brought back chilling memories of her childhood. 

"I came to see if my family lived." She said harshly, and though she had to bend her neck back to meet his gaze, she kept her chin up and her eyes cold. 

"Hah!" He slapped her back as though she were a son. "You don't hold much faith in me as a protector!" Just at that moment an old woman appeared in the background behind her father, and she pointed to Zoran-Thiea and laughed heartily like a mad-woman.

"The little brat is still alive!!" She said in between bouts of cackling laughter. 

"Ah shut it, you old witch!" Her father cussed and at last stepped aside to let his child in. As she stepped into the house, only very slightly less dark and dank than the streets, she looked around expecting it to somehow feel like home. Instead, it only felt cold and distant. She noticed her father's mistress had already made herself comfortable, in the corner of the room, lounging and smoking a cigarette. The old hag had wandered off and could now be heard rummaging around in the kitchen. So now, it was only she and her father who stood, watching each other. 

"What has become of my mother?" Zoran-Thiea asked hesitantly. Her heart almost begged that the woman had finally passed on. Surely her father would never bring a whore to live in the same house, were she still alive. Yet he looked down and rested a large hand on her shoulder. 

"She's nothing but a hollowed out body. No more than skin an' bones now. But the stubborn old thing won't die yet. I don't know why she lives any more." Zoran-Thiea's eyes widened as he spoke...surely she was not here. "She's in the back bedroom. Go an' see her then you might as well leave. We have no need for you being here." Her chest ached with pain. 

"You're a worthless piece of shit!" She suddenly burst out. "Of all the horrible things you did..." Her mind blurred as she spoke. "How could you speak of her that way? How could you do this to her? How could you bring that WHORE to live under the same roof?!" She screamed uncontrollably at him. It seemed that it had all been coming back. After holding her tongue for all her life. Now she couldn't find enough words. "Damn you to the deepest depths of whatever most miserable horror awaits in the afterlife. Damn you for a thousand eternities!!" She couldn't stop herself now...until she felt the familiar pain of his rough knuckles as he struck the back of his hand across her face, with nearly enough force to throw her to the floor. Then, she looked up at him with cold eyes full of hate, and never spoke another word. 

Her mother lay in the bed, looking far more dead than alive. Her face was withered and hollow and her whole body looked like a skeleton. The only motion she made was a trembling and the only sound was the raspy sound of her breathing. Her eyes were open, though milky and hazed, and they did nothing but stare into empty space. It broke her heart to see her like this. It wasn't to say that her mother was a saint, and yet she had never done such wicked things to deserve such a horrid fate. Zoran-Thiea walked over with tears collected in her eyes. She carefully removed a small glass bottle from her bag, and set it upon her mother's lips. "I'm sorry I've let him do this to you." Slowly she poured the liquid and her mother drank. The woman recognized her daughter no more. She knew nothing. And yet she was forced to live, for what? "Rest now mother." She whispered and placed a kiss upon her forehead. Slowly, the woman closed her eyes, and the raspy noize of her labored breathing ceased and the tremble of her body fell. At last, she looked to be at peace. 

Zoran-Thiea stood in the middle of the cold street, with her feet sunken into the mud and her eyes turned down. It rained cold and sharply upon her. "I will make him pay for what he has done." She whispered softly to the sound of the pitter-patter of rain falling upon mud. [I]"I will damn him myself."[/I]