Growing up, my grandmother was the only warmth I ever knew.
She told me my mother died giving birth to me—that her heart gave out the moment mine began to beat. My father, devastated and hollowed by grief, could not bear the sight of me. He left this world when I was barely two, and I've often wondered if he died from sorrow… or from the weight of resenting me.
But my grandmother, she loved me.
She named me Aurora, saying I was as beautiful and radiant as her daughter—my mother. She poured love into every part of me, wrapping my shattered beginnings in her gentle strength. Every morning, I woke to the sight of her kind face, and in her arms, I found peace, joy, and a reason to smile. Life was not perfect, but it was good. It was ours.
Until the day I came home and found her still.
At first, I thought she was just asleep, lying in the same position I left her that morning. But the air was too still, the silence too loud. I touched her hand—it was cold.
My knees buckled.
Tears slipped down my cheeks, and I tried to stifle the sobs building in my chest. I wasn't alone for long.
Quinn's hand reached up to brush the tears from my face. Aurora looked down into Quinn's warm, innocent eyes.
But peace did not last.
Whispers turned to shouts. Accusations flew like daggers. "Witch!" they screamed. "Everyone around her dies!" Stones followed, their sharp edges cutting into my skin and soul. I barely escaped with my life that day.
For a time, I believed them.
Maybe I was cursed. Maybe my existence brought death.
But as years passed, I began to remember the truths my grandmother once told me: I was not ordinary. I was more. And though the world had turned its back on me, I chose to walk forward—alone, unloved, unwanted—until I saw you in the trees.
I didn't understand the feeling at first, but I knew I'd found something I had never known for long.
Love.
"You saved me," Quinn whispered.
"I love you, Mum," Quinn said, his voice soft as he rested his head on Aurora's thigh.
"I love you too, my son," She whispered, running her fingers gently through his hair.
After a long silence, he asked, "Why didn't you use your powers when they stoned you?"
"We don't use our powers against humans."
"Why?" he asked, lifting his head.
"It's hard to tell you this, but… you must know."
"Know what?" Quinn's gaze locked onto Aurora's eyes.
"I am a white witch." she she said softly.
His mouth parted in awe. "A… white witch?"
"Yes," Aurora nodded. "We have rules. We protect, we heal—but never harm."
Quinn looked up at her with unwavering loyalty. "Even if you were, you'd still be my mom."
Tears welled in Aurora's eyes again as she smiled and caressed his face.
"I'm sorry, Mom… for everything you've been through," he said, his voice trembling.
Aurora held him closer. "You don't have to apologize, baby."
"There's something I never told you," he said suddenly.
"What is it?" Aurora asked, her breath catching.
"I… I'm a prince."
Aurora blinked. "Sure you are," She teased softly, brushing back his hair. "A handsome, charming prince."
"No, Mom," he said seriously. "You once told me about a kingdom that was attacked—Aethel. King Eldric and his queen…"
Aurora froze.
"They're my parents."
She stared at him in disbelief. "You mean… you're—"
"Prince of Aethel," Quinn finished.
"Oh my God…" Aurora gasped. "How did you escape?"
"Mother led me through a secret passage in the palace," he said quietly.
Aurora wrapped my arms around him. "My poor boy. I'm so, so sorry…"
"You know what happened there?" Quinn asked.
"Yes," she replied softly, her voice heavy with memories.
"Promise me something," he whispered. "Promise you won't lie."
"Another thing about white witches," she said gently. "We don't lie."
Quinn hesitated. "Are… are my parents alive?"
Aurora looked away, guilt flooding her chest.
"No," Aurora said at last. "They aren't. But I am here for you. You're not alone."
"One more question," Quinn pleaded.
"No more, Quinn," she said quickly. "I can't—"
"Please, Mom," he said, looking into her eyes. "Just one."
Aurora sighed. "Alright… one more."
"Who killed my parents? What's his name?"
Aurora placed her hands on his cheeks. "His name is Torin. King of Vanilor."
Quinn's gaze dropped, his jaw tightening.
Reading the shadows in his mind, Aurora pulled him back to herself. "All I teach you is for protection—not revenge. Not hatred."
"I know," he said quietly.
"Good," she replied, trying to ease the tension. "Now… how about I make your favorite for dinner?"
Quinn's eyes lit up. "Really?"
"You little foodie," Aurora teased, chuckling. "That smile gives you away."
Quinn grinned.
"That's my baby," she said, holding him close, wondering how she had gotten so lucky to find him in the ashes of everything she'd lost.