(1826, Virginia)
Cracked earth, withered crops, and swirling dust storms had emptied the small town in Virginia that Lucian once called home. In his family's farmhouse, he had boarded up his parents' old room; he couldn't bear to keep staring at it anymore.
For the first time, Lucian desperately wanted to go into town to seek help. But since the drought three years ago, all their animals had perished. Lilian was the center of his world; wherever he went, she followed. They were the only family left. Yet their life had become unsustainable. Water was scarce, food even scarcer. Lucian had spent the past five years since his parents' deaths rebuilding and maintaining the farm with his bare hands. He would bring vegetables and handmade tools into town to trade for supplies. Slowly, he had grown into adulthood.
Lilian sat on the front porch, her feet dangling over the edge.
"Lucian?" she asked, tilting her head toward him as he returned from the well, carrying the last of their water.
He set the buckets down on either side of him, sleeves rolled to his elbows, and wiped the sweat from his brow.
"Yes?" he replied.
"Why aren't you married?" she asked, twirling a strand of her hair between her fingers.
Lucian blinked, surprised.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean," she said, "you're twenty-three. Why aren't you married yet?"
Marriage had never crossed his mind. He hadn't had much experience with women. Lucian sat beside his sister, leaning back on his hands.
"I suppose I've never thought about it," he admitted. "But… who would take care of you?"
Lilian smiled and rested her head on his shoulder.
"You worry too much, Lucian," she said with a laugh.
She wasn't wrong. Without Lilian, he had no one. No one could understand what he'd been through the way she could. He had spent every morning pacing by his parents' graves, praying one day he would wake to find it all a dream. And yet, here she was, concerned about marriage. His duty was to raise his sister—no exceptions.
Lilian yawned and rubbed her eyes, pulling her nightgown sleeves over her wrists as she rested her chin on her knees.
Above them, a lightning strike tore through the sky, startling Lilian closer to her brother. Lucian looked down at her and offered a gentle smile.
"It's just a storm," he said, his voice calm and patient.
Thunder boomed in the distance, and Lucian rose from the steps, preparing to head inside. Lilian stood, grasping his arm with her small hands.
"You deserve to be happy, too," she whispered, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.
The screen door slammed shut before he could reply. Lucian sighed and followed her inside. He sat at the kitchen table, fidgeting with his father's old locked drawer—a keepsake he had inherited. His hands traced the silver chain, and he clicked open the locket inside. A folded photo of their family, all smiling outside their home, rested within. He held it to his chest, a small, fleeting smile crossing his face.
Thunder cracked louder, rattling the house. Lucian stood, trying to calm his nerves as he headed to bed. Then he froze.
A scent—acrid, burning, unmistakable—hit him. Smoke curled through the hallway. Squinting against the darkness, he raced up the stairs, his heart hammering. Flames licked the walls and ceiling, blocking his path to his sister's room.
"Lilian!" he shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth.
Her yelp came from behind the door. Lucian's stomach churned. Without thinking, he leapt across the unstable floorboards, searching for solid ground. The fire swallowed the house; smoke burned his throat and made his eyes water.
He slammed his feet against the door, hearing it splinter. Coughing, he crawled forward, scanning the room. There she was—curled in the corner, tear-streaked eyes wide with terror.
"Lilian!" he cried, reaching for her.
She rose shakily, stepping toward him. Her small, burned hands found his, and he pulled her into his lap in the hallway. She coughed, staring down at her tattered nightgown.
"We need to get out of here," he ordered, gripping her hand. He set her in front of a hole burned into the floor. Jagged shards of wood littered the ground. They could jump it—but it was risky.
Before he could decide, a beam fell across her legs. Flames separated them. Lilian cried out, eyes pleading. Blood stained the floor beneath her, soaking the lace of her nightgown.
Lucian's vision blurred. Her screams pierced the air, ears ringing, smoke choking him. For the first time, despair clawed at him. Giving up seemed the only option.
But Lucian was never one to surrender.