Outcast of the factions

I was reading when a voice reaches me. “Minal.” It comes from outside my door. It was firm and controlled, the voice of a guard who has delivered messages like this his entire life. “The Archmatron has summoned you.” He said I close the book on my lap and place it on the table beside the bed. “I’m coming,” I say. There is a pause, then I hear his footsteps moving away down the corridor. I stand and smooth my black dress. I have worn no other color since my father died. The fabric feels heavy, I would have loved it if it was silk but unfortunately, royal mourning is never allowed to be simple. Even sorrow is dressed to impress. I leave my room and walk through the halls toward my grandmother’s chambers. Blue witchfire burns steadily along the walls, lighting the passage the way it always does. They are guards that line the corridor, watching me as I pass. They do not bow or speak to me, just as they never do. I stop at the doors to her chamber and knock once “Enter,” her voice says from inside. I push the door open and step into her chambers. She is standing by the tall arched window, her back to me. Her silver hair is braided tightly down her spine, not a strand out of place. The room feels dense with power, the kind that presses against the skin and reminds you who rules here. “You look weak,” she says without turning. “Have you been crying again?” “No,” I answer. “I was reading.” She turns to face me slowly, her pale eyes sharp and unreadable. “Books will not help you survive,” she says. I lower my gaze. “You sent for me.” “Yes.” She walks toward the center of the room. “You are still dressed for mourning.” “My father died,” I say. “And tears will not undo that,” she replies. “Clean your face.” I lift my hand and wipe my cheeks. She watches closely, as if waiting for disobedience. She nods once. “Good child, now listen carefully.” She walks to a stone table carved with old symbols and picks up a thick leather bound book. She tosses it toward me and I catch it against my chest. “Do you know what that is?” she asks. “No,” I say. “That book has the reason you are still breathing.” I tighten my grip on it. “Grandmother…” I gasp “A hundred years ago,” she cuts in, “a witch and a vampire broke the laws of this world.” I remain silent and let her finish “They chose love over order,” she continues. “And they produced a son.” “That shouldn’t be possible,” I say. “It wasn’t meant to be,” she replies. “Before that union, witches and vampires lived on opposite sides of the world and humans existed between us” she arched her brows at me “ you've learned this in your classes right?” “ Yes Grandma…and the child broke the law…” I say. “Yes.” Her voice hardens. “Both sides hunted him. Vampires feared what he could become and witches wanted to control him” “What happened to him?” I asked hoping I didn't sound stupid. “He vanished,” she says sighing in anger. My stomach tightens. “Why are you telling me this now?” “Because the abomination still lives.” I look at her sharply. “You are certain?” “I do not speculate Minal” She gestures toward the book in my hands. “That child is the reason the world remains divided according to the legend if he is killed, the world would go back to how it was” “What does this have to do with me?” I ask “You will find him,” she says. “You will confirm his identity.” “And then?” i swallowed hard. Her eyes lock onto mine. “You will kill him.” My breath catches. “Why me?” “Because you are nothing,” she replies calmly. “You have no fangs or vampire qualities. You look so human except your extreme pale skin but it would go unnoticed” “That does not make me a weapon,” my voiced cracked as I tried to challenge her “It makes you useful to me” “If I refuse?” I ask. “You won’t.” she smirked Silence stretches between us as she goes to sit in her lounge chair. “Where do I begin?” I finally say. “There was a last sighting,” she answers. “Among the half-witches and some records the guards will give you” “That territory is dangerous,” I was close to tears “So is returning empty-handed.” She turns away from me, dismissing me without another word. “If I find him,” I say, “and he is not what you believe?” She does not turn back. “ Then you did not find the right one… that child is an abomination and it's finally time someone hunts him down for good” I finally understand why my grandmother has allowed me to live. The Archmatron is not merciful nor is she patient. She does not tolerate weakness, hesitation, or sentiment. I have watched her erase entire bloodlines for less than defiance. Yet I have remained alive under her roof all these years, protected from too many questions and spared from exile. It was indeed not because she cared, she had been waiting. My mother was human so she died immediately after giving birth to me. A human body is not strong enough to carry vampire blood. That truth has been accepted for centuries. Human women do not survive such pregnancies because their organs fail them and their hearts give out. Their bodies tear themselves apart trying to contain something never meant to grow inside them. And yet I was born, till now, one can explain how. Human men were not strong enough to impregnate vampire women either.. They call it a miracle when they speak politely and a mistake when they think no one is listening. My mother paid the price for that mistake, she died before she could hold me. My father is gone now as well. Although his death was suspicious, I was not given any answers, only instructions to grieve and remain silent. That leaves only my grandmother I live at her mercy now and mercy is not something she offers freely. I am not a granddaughter to her. She has tolerated my existence because I am useful, if I fail her, that tolerance will end. I leave her chambers with the book held tightly in my arms. The guards are still there when I step into the corridor. They watch me and say nothing. In their eyes, I am no different from the creature I have been ordered to hunt.