It had been two days since Alonso left, and Maria had been spending every morning at the town hall, waiting for her turn to collect the reparations promised to her and others like her. After the abolition of slavery, the king decreed that every former slave would be granted citizenship in the Vita Kingdom and a sum of 100 gold coins. It was a significant amount, enough to ensure a modest but comfortable life for several years if handled wisely.

Standing in line with her documents in hand, Maria couldn't help but smile, excitement bubbling inside her. She had never been in control of such wealth before, and she already had plans for it. Her dream was to return to an elvan settlement and raise her children, Tom and Jack, in a peaceful and safe environment far removed from the cruelty they had endured in their early years.

As Maria moved closer to the front of the queue, her thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the sound of heavy footsteps approaching. Her heart stopped when she saw him—Michael. Her ex-husband, the man who had brutalized her and her children, and the same man she had encountered with Alonso days earlier. Michael had been drunk then, but now, sober and filled with malice, he appeared even more dangerous.

Michael's clothes were filthy, his skin dry and flaking, as though he had long stopped caring about himself. His eyes, once filled with anger, were now dull and lifeless—reflecting a man who had given up on life. Yet, behind that lifeless gaze, there was still a glimmer of something twisted and dangerous. His cruel smile stretched across his face as he spotted Maria.

Michael had been Maria's slave master, purchasing her when she was only fifteen. A common barber with no real prospects in life, he had spent his meager savings on her, not out of any noble intent, but out of infatuation and a desire for ownership. To him, Maria was never a person—just an investment, a piece of property. He made her bear two children, Tom and Jack, but because they were half-elves, Michael never acknowledged them as his own. They were nothing more than slaves to him, just as Maria had been.

For years, Maria had been dependent on him, a victim of Stockholm syndrome, doing whatever he asked without question. The abuse, the violence, the constant degradation—it all stripped her of her will. But when her children were born and Michael began to beat them, something inside Maria changed. She could endure her own suffering, but the sight of her sons being brutalized shattered her dependence on him. All that was left in her heart was a fierce, protective love for Tom and Jack and a desperate need to get them away from Michael.

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When the king's decree came, abolishing slavery, it felt like divine intervention. Maria wasted no time. She packed her belongings, took her children, and left Michael without a word, abandoning the nightmare of her past. But she knew, deep down, that Michael would never let go. He was deluded—he believed that Maria, and by extension her children, belonged to him.

As Michael approached, that same delusion was written all over his face. His lips twisted into a cruel smile, and Maria's heart began to race. She had always been a strong, boisterous woman, but the sight of Michael turned her into that frightened, submissive girl she once was. Her body trembled, and she instinctively took a step back.

"You ungrateful bitch," Michael spat as he got closer. His voice dripped with venom. "How dare you take what's mine. Do you know how much I paid for you? After everything I did for you—feeding you, clothing you—and this is how you repay me? Where would you be without me?"

People in the queue began to stir, some casting wary glances, others pretending not to notice. Even the human guards in the hall looked over, clearly amused by the unfolding scene.

Maria's throat tightened, her courage dissolving in Michael's presence. She took another step back, her voice barely above a whisper. "Please, Michael… not here. You're causing a scene."

Michael's expression twisted into something uglier. Without warning, his hand shot out, striking her across the face with a loud crack. "Shut up!" he bellowed. "You don't get to talk back to me! Don't think for a second that we are equals, you forget your place just because you're free now huh?"

Maria crumpled to the floor, her cheek stinging from the slap, but the real pain was the familiar fear that gripped her. She curled up as Michael loomed over her, his foot coming down to stomp on her.

"You think you're free, but you'll never be free of me," Michael hissed, his voice full of venom. "That money is mine! You hear me? And those kids—my kids—they're coming back with me. They're mine too. You don't get to walk away from this. You don't get to walk away from me!"

His boot connected with her side, and Maria winced in pain. The people around watched in silence, either too afraid to intervene or simply indifferent. The guards exchanged lazy glances, uninterested in coming to Maria's aid.

But before Michael could land another kick, something changed. His body stiffened suddenly, and he let out a strangled gasp. His face twisted in shock as his feet left the ground, his body lifted by an unseen force.

Maria blinked through her tears, confused by the sudden silence. Michael flailed helplessly, his hands clutching at his throat as if trying to pry away invisible fingers that held him aloft. The crowd began to murmur, unsure of what was happening, but Maria, too dazed and battered, barely registered the shift in atmosphere.

Something—or someone—had intervened. But it wasn't visible yet.