1. Prologue: Mother's Gifts

The earliest memory I had was my first birthday.

I could still remember the face of my mother, as if it was just yesterday. Every distinct feature of her.

Black as the night was her hair and her dark green eyes that seemed to glow when it reflected light. No matter how much she always smiled, her eyes spoke differently which I didn't understand why.

"Happy birthday, Lucian!" She said, as she uttered something in a language that I didn't understand.

The next thing I remembered was my body, flailing in an excruciating pain. If my wails of agony disturbed our neighbors, I wasn't sure. But no one came to help even if my screams could tear the heavens.

"Happy birthday, Lucian!" My mother once again greeted me on my second birthday.

By that time, I had already forgotten the events that happened last year. Until it curtained over me, as soon as she spoke the language I failed to understand, but I recognized. It was its terror that I recognized. Then the insufferable pain.

"Happy birthday, Lucian!" She said on my third. All throughout the day over the years, my mother was always perfect, kind, and loving.

"Happy birthday, Lucian!" Except on my birthday. While every other child was excited for their special day to come, it became the day I most feared.

"Happy birthday, Lucian!" She never changed in the slightest, but whatever the hell was happening to me, it made me dread my own birthday. Almost made me wish not having many years to come to my life.

I would rather die at a young age. The rest of the years that mother had been kind to me could not compare and compensate to the unbearable pain that she gave me once a year.

Until it stopped one day.

"Happy birthday, Lucian!" One would think that I had grown used to the unknown yet torturing pain. God-knows-what she gifted me, I never wanted any part of it.

But it was done. My mother's dead.

On the day after my sixth birthday, when she had given me all the gifts that I never asked for, my mother Liya slit her throat.

The yearly affliction had stopped, but so did the everyday kindness. For the hand she used to deliver the curse, was the same hand that sincerely loved and caressed.