From that night onward, Oberon became the family I never had, the only one I could truly rely on. I was grateful for him, more than I could express. He didn’t just teach me how to fight; he showed me how to survive—how to adapt to my circumstances and navigate the world in a way that would keep me alive. I learned how to feign interest in the lessons the nuns gave to the children at St. Augustine's, and I began to use that to my advantage. They offered me more freedom, less labor. In return, I accepted the label they gave me: the "demon's child healed by God's grace." My clothes remained tattered, and the food still disgusted me, but the eyes that once watched me so closely began to avert their gaze. That little bit of space allowed me to practice with Oberon, and for the first time, I fel
