Isolde returned to the same factory, her heart pounding beneath the heavy cloak she wore to conceal her identity. In one hand, she clutched a worn leather bag, its contents carefully chosen, though they felt feeble for the task ahead. She entered through the factory's back door, greeted by the stale, sickly stench of rot and mildew. The air was thick with a musty odor, and only faint streaks of light seeped through cracks in the walls, casting eerie shadows that stretched as she made her way down the dimly lit corridor.

The path to the basement was long and winding. Each step deeper brought a sharp, worsening smell that clawed at her senses. The floors were coated in grime, and the few flickering lights only accentuated the crumbling, decayed interior of the old factory. Despite the bile rising in her throat, Isolde continued, her resolve firm.

At last, she reached the bottom step, her breath catching as her eyes adjusted to the sparse, dismal light. There, behind rusted iron bars, huddled several children. They were thin, weak, their clothes hanging off them like tattered rags. The dim light revealed faces blank with exhaustion, eyes vacant of any recognition of her presence. The children sat or lay wherever they could, with one girl slumped in a corner, barely moving, her face turned to the wall as if she had given up on reality itself.

"Hello…" Isolde's voice was gentle but cracked with sorrow. "My name is Isolde."

The children barely reacted; their minds, starved and dulled, were slow to process new information. Isolde moved closer, carefully lowering herself to their level, all the while clutching the bag. She opened it, revealing an assortment of treats: cookies, chocolates, small snacks she had gathered in the hopes of bringing them some comfort.

"It's okay," she whispered softly, coaxing them. "I brought you something to eat. Please, don't be afraid."

One girl, trembling and frail, dared to approach. Hunger etched into every movement, she moved with the wary, unsteady gait of someone who hadn't felt kindness in a long time. The child's eyes flicked to the cookie Isolde held out, her small hand reaching cautiously as she took it.

"How is it?" Isolde asked, with a sad smile.

The girl took a slow, hesitant bite, and a single tear slipped down her cheek as she whispered, "I…It's…good…" Her voice was weak, stammering, as if forming words took all the strength she had left. "Can…can I have more?"

Seeing the girl's brokenness struck Isolde like a blow, but she offered more, sharing the treats among the other children who, one by one, crawled forward, each one trapped in a silent world of despair. She continued visiting them over the next few weeks, bringing whatever small comfort she could. But a fateful day was about to shatter the little progress she had made.

[Some time later…]

Isolde returned to the factory, hoping to offer the children a brief reprieve from their misery. But as she entered the basement, her heart froze; only one child was left. He sat alone in the dark corner, the shadows casting his face in a hollow, almost ghostly pallor. The others were nowhere to be seen.

"Where… where are the others?" she stammered, her voice thick with confusion and worry.

The boy's eyes met hers, hollow yet filled with a glint of anger. "Your people took them," he spat, his voice hoarse, heavy with accusation. "They… killed them."

"What? No…" Isolde's voice quivered as she stepped closer. "I don't understand."

The boy's hand clenched around the cold iron bars, and in a sudden surge of fury, he slammed his fist against them, the loud clang reverberating through the empty basement. Isolde shrank back, momentarily taken aback by his rage.

"What is your name?" he demanded, his tone biting and cold.

"I...I am Isolde," she replied, her voice barely a whisper.

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"Lies!" he barked. "You're Isolde Van—part of them. The same name that condemns us to this nightmare!" His voice choked with pain as he continued, "What about me, then? Do you even know my name?"

Isolde's face crumbled as she stuttered, "I… I don't… I don't know."

"That's right," he said bitterly, his expression twisted with despair. "None of you ever cared enough to know. We were never more than experiments to you. Yesterday, they took the others, and… none of them came back. I'm the only one left." His eyes, wet and unseeing, stared at her with a glimmer of hatred. "They trusted you. Even as they suffered, they believed in you… and you did nothing."

Her heart shattered under the weight of his words. She turned away, her vision blurring with tears as she left the factory. That night, Isolde returned home a broken shell of herself, haunted by the realization of her own powerlessness. When her father, Phillip, returned, she sat waiting for him, her face a mask of pain and sorrow.

Phillip entered the room with a warm smile, but it faltered as he noticed her expression. "Isolde, what's wrong?"

"Why are you doing this, Father?" Her voice was strained, a quiet fury seething beneath her calm tone.

Phillip's face stiffened. "What are you talking about, Isolde?"

"Why are you killing them?" She looked directly into his eyes, her gaze steady and unforgiving. Her mother, Millie, overheard and rushed in, trying to calm her daughter.

"Isolde! Show some respect for your father," Millie insisted, reaching out to placate her.

But Isolde stood her ground, her voice rising with each word. "I followed the cart two weeks ago, Father. I saw them—those children, bearing our royal emblem. They are being experimented on, suffering because of us!"

Phillip's face darkened, a silence falling over the room. "So that's what's been haunting you," he murmured. "Very well. Yes, the experiments are my doing, but they are orders from the Leader. I have no choice in the matter."

Isolde clenched her fists, the burning anger only tempered by her despair. "But you're letting it happen! There's one child left… one survivor. I beg you, Father, spare him. Save him."

Phillip sighed, the weight of his role bearing down upon him. "Isolde, you don't understand the powers we are subject to. Our clan is bound to D.A.R.K, and I must follow our Leader's orders. But I won't stop you, if this is truly what you want."

With a steely resolve, Isolde stepped forward and unhooked the ceremonial sword from his waist. "If you won't save him, then I will."

Millie gasped, reaching out to stop her, but Phillip held her back, a strange sadness in his eyes. "This is your final decision then?" he asked softly. "Remember, this act will make you a traitor to our clan. You will be shut out of this house forever."

Without hesitation, Isolde nodded. "Yes, this is my choice. I can't allow cruelty to rule the lives of others. My name is simply Isolde now." She turned, walking away with an unshakable determination.

As she passed through the front door, Phillip watched her with a bittersweet pride. He turned to Millie, whose face was streaked with tears. "Years ago, I too dreamed of a different path, but I didn't have the courage. Now, seeing her… I think she might be able to do what I couldn't."

Phillip dismissed the maids and butler with a wave, his face heavy with the weight of what he was about to reveal. Once they were alone, he looked at Millie, his voice low, almost a whisper.

"Millie, years ago, I too dreamed of breaking free from this dark legacy," he said, his gaze distant. "But I lacked the courage. I couldn't fight my family, so I accepted my place, becoming a mere servant to the Leader's will. But there were two moments that brought me happiness." He looked at her, his eyes softening. "The first was marrying you. And now, seeing our daughter's courage… that's the second."

Millie's face fell, her hands clasped tightly, her voice choked with sadness and fear. "But… she's just a child. How can she carry this burden? I don't want her to face this either, but the Leader—he hides his cruelty behind a mask of goodness, blaming others while our clan pays the price." She trembled, her eyes brimming with tears. "Phillip, please… save our child."

Phillip reached out, gently pulling her into his arms, steadying her as he spoke. "Because she's our child, Millie, I have no fear," he reassured her, his voice carrying a determination she hadn't seen before. "Isolde is not to be taken lightly. She may be young, but she has the strength that I never had. I tested her courage tonight, pretending I would abandon her to her fate." He paused, his voice catching. "But I would never let her face this alone. If it comes to it, I will protect her with my life."

He straightened, his gaze distant but resolute. "And that boy… he has the potential to be her shield if he chooses. He's the first to survive the experiments, which means he may have abilities that even we don't fully understand. Whether he'll use them is up to him, but I believe he can."

Scene shifts to the hidden factory, where Isolde is making her way inside.

Isolde slipped through the factory's back door, moving with cautious but steady steps. The place was silent, its hidden location shrouded in secrecy, isolated enough that even if someone stumbled upon it, no one would believe their account. Inside, security was minimal—a grim testament to the fact that those trapped within these walls rarely survived long enough to be noticed.