Chapter 1
"For no one is cast off by the Lord forever. Though he brings grief, he will show compassion, so great is his unfailing love. For he does not willingly bring affliction or grief to anyone."
Lamentations 3:31-33
A blood-curdling scream echoed through the halls of a two story home just as a clash of lightning whipped through the air. The screams morphed into haunting sobs. Loud footsteps could be heard as a man dashed towards the sound of his wife's screams.
Frederick de Chataupers appeared in the doorway of his daughter's nursery. Wide, brown eyes scanned the room, landing on his wife's slumped form beside the crib. He immediately rushed to her.
"Chandra, what-" He began but the sound of glass crunching underneath his boot brought his gaze downward then frantically around the room once more.
The window was broken from the outside and the crib was empty. His heart plummeted, knocking the wind out of him as if someone had punched him on his chest. He grabbed his wife from the floor, yanking her into his arms rougher than he intended as she continued to wail.
"No... No!" He shouted the final word, his breathing quickening.
"Father...?" A soft voice drew their attention to the doorway.
The five-year-old boy rubbed his eyes tiredly before he took in the scene before him; his father's anguished expression, his mother's tears, his sister's empty crib, the broken window.
"What's wrong with mother?" He questioned with a concerned curiosity.
"Go back to bed, Phoebus," His father ordered as calmly as he could.
"Where's Se-"
"Bed! Now!" Frederick barked, startling Phoebus.
Frederick didn't wait for his son to obey. He released his wife, his long legs only had to make a few angry strides before he reached the door and pushed past Phoebus.
Phoebus watched as his frantic father ran through the halls. Phoebus jumped at the sound of the violent sound of his father leaving their home in search of his daughter. The boy turned his gaze back into the room, his heart racing at the sudden display of emotion from his usually calm and collected father; he had never seen him like that before.
He finally turned his head towards Chandra, his brow furrowing. He quietly walked into the nursery.
"Mother...?" Phoebus spoke quietly.
Chandra's concealed her face with her long, ebony locks though he didn't need to see her face to know she was still crying. She quickly wiped away her tears, sniffling loudly.
"You heard your father, Phoebus," She reminded him, voice trembling, "Off to bed, you."
Phoebus didn't move, his own emotions beginning to take over. He looked towards the crib then back at his mother.
"Where's Selene?"
Chandra finally looked at at Phoebus, fresh tears pouring down her cheeks. She didn't answer. Instead, she ran to him and pulled her son into her arms, burying her face in his golden locks.
Phoebus returned his mother's embrace, his eyes stinging with tears. He closed his eyes as he took in his mother's comforting scent, his tears silently running down his round cheeks.
Selene…
"Rubina, will you hush up that child?!" A Romani man demanded frantically as they ran through the dark city of Paris.
The sound of a lone horse's hooves echoed behind them but the heavy rain and dark skies concealed the kidnappers. Rubina struggled to keep the baby both quiet and dry. The kidnapping would be for naught if they brought back a dead child. Rubina held the infant close to her chest.
"I'm trying, Sacha," His wife countered, on the verge of tears as the bundle in her arms continued to cry.
"We're almost there," He assured her, "This way! He's getting close!"
Adrenaline fueled Rubina's fear. She was half-tempted to deliver the child back and accept their death sentence for kidnapping a soldier's daughter. Instead, she continued to follow her husband.
The sound of hooves slowly faded. All they heard now were their wet footsteps and panicked breathing. Frederick had lost them.
With heavy sighs of relief, the Romani snuck their way through the city to The Court of Miracles. The infant eventually stopped crying, allowing them to walk through the dark catacombs in silence. They followed the light of lit torches until they reached The Court of Miracles. They dashed through the crowd of Romani Parisians, slinking by nonchalantly until they finally made it to their home.
They exhaled shakily in unison as Sacha closed the door behind them. Rubina immediately unwrapped the soaked blanket off of the infant as Sacha rushed to bring her a dry blanket. The sound of gentle voices replacing the violent clashes of rain and lightning had lulled the baby girl to sleep.
Sacha stood behind his wife, looking over her shoulder as she wrapped her in the clean blanket. Sacha stood behind his wife as Rubina ran her hands gently through the few charcoal locks that graced her delicate head. She hadn't even noticed the glimmer of silver that hung around the girl's neck, hidden by the folds of her baby fat.
"What's this?" Sacha brought his hand to the child's neck, gently pulling the silver chain.
They leaned in, examining the necklace closely. A crescent moon pendant hung from the expensive chain. A tense silence followed as Sacha began to gently remove it. The necklace was only a reminder of the social status of the child they had chosen to take.
Sacha put the jewelry in his pocket with a deep sigh. Out of all the children in the world, they had chosen this one. Not for ransom nor extortion. They simply wanted a child. Unable to conceive, they had become desperate. Why they chose to risk their lives by choosing the Captain of the Guard's daughter, even they didn't know. But, it was too late for any regrets. Instead, Sacha broke the uncomfortable silence with a question he knew would bring a smile to Rubina's face.
"What will we name her?"
The child cooed quietly, peering up at them with hypnotizingly oceanic eyes. Rubina's eyes softened as she traced the baby's soft cheek. She couldn't help the smile on her face when the girl grasped her finger tightly. She didn't have to think twice before uttering Selene's new name.
"Safira."
10 Years Later
Safira ran through The Court of Miracles, pushing and dodging people as she eagerly made her way home. Disapproving eyes followed her, heads shaking as the barefooted girl nearly tripped in her eagerness. They couldn't fault her though. After all, she turned ten years old today. Though, they would be lying if they said they didn't derive some satisfaction at seeing her eventually trip over her own feet. That was what she got for running - or at least that's what every child was told.
Safira winced as her knees skidded across the hard ground before landing she plopped on her stomach. With a quiet, irate growl, she began to push herself off the ground. She hadn't noticed the man who towered over her until he offered his hand.
"Thank you-" She began taking his hand, stopping mid-sentence when she looked Clopin Trouillefou's smug face.
He yanked her to her feet, watching with amusement as she pat the dirt off her humble dress.
"Running again, Safira?" He asked, eyes twinkling and arms crossed, "Where are you off to in such a hurry?"
"I wanted to talk to my parents before they left for the festival," She explained, "I'm hoping they will actually let me come this year."
Clopin's back stiffened slightly. Like every other Romani, he knew of Safira's true parentage and the reason why her parents never let her leave the Court of Miracles. Ever. Amongst themselves, they highly and vocally disapproved of Sacha and Rubina's actions, of the danger they had put everyone in by committing the crime they did.
"I have to go before they leave!" She exclaimed, dashing past him as she continued to run home.
Clopin watched her leave, shaking his head with a quiet sigh. He happened to catch the knowing glances of the others who had been within hearing range. It had been an unspoken agreement among them all as a community that Safira would never see the light of day. Rubina and Sacha were fortunate they weren't banished from their hideout themselves after kidnapping a soldier's daughter.
It had been Clopin's father who had taken pity on the couple and managed to convince their community to simply keep all of this a secret. The rest argued that this was a secret too large to keep but as time went on, the gossip and murmurs surrounding Safira dwindled. She became somewhat of an urban legend, a scary story, if you will: a story you don't repeat lest you bring misfortune to yourself and others.
It had worked. For ten years, they had all managed to go about as if nothing was out of the ordinary. Children were taught not to question how Safira had blue eyes and fair skin. Safira herself stopped asking why she looked different and why she wasn't allowed to see the sun like the rest of the children. It was almost terrifying to Clopin how one could be lied to so convincingly by a mass group of people.
He supposed any secret could be kept if it meant death to them all.
Safira entered the tiny hut, greeted by her parent's smiling faces. While her father strung his lyre, her mother was sewing up a tear on the dress she would perform in tonight at the festival. Safira's eyes grazed over the colorful garb, suddenly becoming nervous.
"Why, if it isn't the birthday girl," Her father smiled as he continued to tune his instrument.
"We're just getting ready for the festival," Rubina informed her, "Grab a needle and help me, will you, darling?"
Safira merely gave a quiet nod, grabbing a needle and string. She sat across from her mother, glancing up at her now and then as she silently worked up the courage to bring up the festival.
Sacha and Rubina worked as a street-performing duo. While his gifted fingers strung his lyre, her tambourine sung along as she danced to the melody of their music. They were a popular act among the everyday folk of Paris yet Safira had never seen them formally perform - what better day and time to see them perform than tonight?
"Mother? Father?" She finally spoke up.
"Yes, dear?" They responded in unison, their eyes focused on what they were doing.
"I was wondering... Since it is my birthday-"
"Oh, don't think we've forgotten your birthday present!" Her mother suddenly exclaimed
Rubina dropped what she was doing, rushing off in search of Safira's birthday present they kept hidden from her.
"N-No, it's not that-" She began but her mother continued to shuffle through their items.
"It's in here somewhere... Sacha, where did you put it?"
"You had it last, my dear," He responded without looking up.
"No, mother, father," Safira scoffed frustratingly, "I'm trying to tell you I want to go to the Festival of Fools!"
Silence.
Sacha and Rubina's bodies froze in place as if time had stood still. They finally looked up from their tasks, exchanging knowing looks before turning their attention towards their daughter. Safira could've choked on the tension filling the air. Silent and expressionless, her parents merely stared at her for what felt like minutes. Safira was about to open her mouth again when Rubina gave her a smile that did not meet the sadness in her eyes. For a moment, Safira thought her mother was going to say yes. Instead, her world came crashing down with a single utter:
"No."
They stared at each other, each one trying to figure out what the other was feeling and thinking. Safira's emotions weren't as easily concealed as Rubina's. The child immediately felt a knot in her throat. She held back tears but her voice still managed to tremble.
"W-Why?" Safira asked, glancing at her father who was guiltily avoiding her gaze.
"It's much too dangerous-"
"You're going," Safira interrupted defiantly, "When will I ever be ready for either of you?"
Rubina's face darkened, nearly winding Safira who had never seen that look before. But, she had also never spoken to them like this before.
"Safira, you are not going out there," Rubina's tone turned deadly, "Ever."
The heavy weight in Safira's heart sunk to her belly. It was one thing to be denied every year, it was heart-stopping to know there was no hope. Safira looked at her father expectantly, hoping he would contradict Rubina. Instead, he hesitantly agreed with her mother.
"It's what's best for-"
Safira interrupted him with an involuntary sob, unable to hold it in anymore. She ran for the door despite her parent's protests and left. Running once more through the Court of Miracles, she made her way to her secluded area away from the others. She called it her "little hideout" when it was actually just a very dark hallway no one ever passed through. This was where she came during moments like these; to cry and think.
She pressed her back against the stone wall, allowing her tears to finally spill. She pressed her palms into her eyes, her shoulders shaking as quiet gasps escaped her lips. She did her best to cry quietly but she wasn't quiet enough. She could hear the shuffling of careful footsteps approaching her and the jingling of bells that hung from their costume. She wanted to tell whoever it was to please go away and leave her be but knew if she tried, she would only cry harder.
Safira nearly leapt when she felt a firm hand on her shoulder. She looked up and into Clopin's concerned, brown eyes. He had followed her after seeing her running again except this time, he could clearly see she was upset. As he looked at her now, all he could feel was pity.
"What are you doing here?" She asked through weepy hiccups, "Shouldn't you be getting ready for the festival?"
Clopin hesitated. He wasn't sure what he could say to make her feel better. An uncomfortable silence followed for longer than either of them felt comfortable with. He was about to spew out a cliché but Safira spoke first.
"I always thought my parents were waiting until I was old enough to go to the festival," She vented, "But, I guess I'll never know what it's like to go outside."
His grip on her shoulder tightened slightly. His heart ached for this poor child. She was paying for the selfish sins of her parents and it was too much for Clopin's soft heart to bear. His mind began to race, his conscious arguing with him to stay out of it and go about his business. Instead, his mouth spoke before his thoughts could finish.
"There is a way."
"Are you sure no one will recognize me?" Safira asked worriedly, sitting across from Clopin as he painted her face.
"I'm sure," He smirked, putting down the paint and brush to admire his work, "You'll look like every other fool."
Safira smiled brightly through her painted face. She was dressed in a silly, colorful costume adorned with bells. Her face was unrecognizable, painted to make her look as ridiculous as her costume was.
"Come now, we're going to be late," He hurried her, taking her small hand in his.
Safira looked up at him curiously as he guided her through a different path than everyone else was taking. She said nothing as they made their way through a dark hallway rounding the entrance of the catacombs. The sounds of gypsies preparing for the festival drowned out. All she heard now was the sound of their footsteps, dripping water and squeaking rats.
"Where are we going?" She finally asked.
"We're using my secret passageway," Clopin winked playfully, giving her hand a comforting squeeze.
Safira's eyes sparkled once more with excitement. He quickened his pace, rounding another dark corner before stopping in front of a very rusty, metal ladder. It would have been impossible to see unless you knew what you were looking for.
"This will lead us to the heart of Paris," He said with cryptic joy, "Wait here."
Safira fidgeted anxiously as Clopin began to climb the ladder. The silence that surrounded her only fueled the sudden nervousness she felt. She looked up when she heard the sound of Clopin removing the pothole's lid. With a heavy grunt, he pushed and slid it off.
Unprepared for the sudden burst of light, Safira shut her eyes with a gasp. She brought her arms over her face, slowly blinking until her eyes no longer ached. She forced them open, squinting up at Clopin who was motioning for her to follow.
"Quickly before anyone sees us!"
Safira grabbed the metal bars and began to climb urgently. Her virgin eyes eventually closed, unable to withstand the intensity of the sun. Clopin jumped out of the pothole, kneeling down to grab her small wrist. He clumsily yanked her out, Safira falling on her stomach on the hot ground. Clopin quickly slid the lid back on as quickly as his thin arms would allow.
Safira pushed herself off the ground, freezing in place when she realized where the pothole led.
"I-It's..." She shuddered in disbelief, unable to finish her sentence.
Before them stood Notre Dame cathedral. The pictures in her books didn't do the holy house justice. The flying buttress' across the roof and the rose-colored windows took her breath away. The Festival of Fools was momentarily forgotten as she basked in the beauty of the church.
"This is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," Safira finally spoke.
The Romani man brought a hand to her shoulder, forcing her to look at him.
"You haven't seen anything yet, my dear!" He promised her before whisking her away for a day she would never forget.
Safira was convinced that Paris was the closest place to Heaven. She saw, smelled and heard things she had only ever dreamt about experiencing. It was surreal. She felt as if she were floating in a dream; a dream she never wanted to wake up from. Surrounded by Parisians fools was her new favorite place to be.
But, no sight could have compared to the honor of seeing her parents perform.
Safira caught sight of them and immediately hid behind someone else's large costume. Her heart skipped a beat, eyes wide as she contemplated what she should do. Clopin had disappeared from her side, hosting the performances.
"Ladies and gentleman!" She heard him exclaim from the stage, "Welcome the finest dancer in all of France: The ravishing Rubina!"
Safira's eyes widened at the sound of her mother's name. She found her courage, slinking past the man she hid behind to get a better look at the stage. The sight nearly took her breath away. Rubina was clothed in beautiful garbs of red and yellow. Her onyx-black hair flowed in sinful waves as she twirled, eyes sparkling with a flirtatious mischief that captured the attention of every person present. Safira felt a deep sense of pride as she watched Rubina's body slink like a charmed snake, the crowd cheering and eagerly tossing their gold coins onstage. Safira joined in the applause, clapping harder than anyone else.
Her parents took a bow and left the stage, allowing Clopin to announce the next act. Safira's fear of being seen returned and she promptly dashed through the crowd in the opposite direction. Clopin didn't see any sign of Safira until the sun was setting. The festivities were still in full effect but he knew he needed to get her back to the hideout before her parents did. Free of his hosting duties, he went in search of her. Her ridiculous costume made it easy for her to find.
She was sitting on the floor with several other children listening to a puppeteer's tale. Clopin's eyes softened, pity tugging at his heart seeing how engrossed Safira was in the story. It reminded him that this was the first and probably only time she would ever experience something like today. As saddened as he was to interrupt, he quietly slinked by and touched her shoulder. Their eyes met and she understood immediately. She tried to hide the disappointment on her face but he could see it in her eyes.
"Time to go," He whispered gently.
She nodded, rising to her feet and taking his hand. They walked in silence towards the pothole they snuck out from. Once they were out of earshot, Clopin spoke.
"How was your first festival?" He asked with a smile.
"This was the most wonderful day of my life," She answered quickly, bringing a chuckle out of Clopin.
His smile, however, vanished as they rounded a dark corner of the cathedral. His grip on Safira's hand tightened as he yanked her against him, pressing his back against the church's stone walls. Safira's little heart jumped at the sudden motion, sensing Clopin's sudden dread.
"Wha-" She began but her brought a hand over her mouth, the sound of voices bringing Safira's eyes to what Clopin was staring at.
Soldiers were confronting a pair of gypsies, standing on the pothole. Safira felt a violent chill pass through her body when she realized the two gypsies were her parents. She quickly began to struggle against Clopin, her panicked words muffled by his hand.
"Shh, they're in control," Clopin tried to reassure her but a dark foreboding continued to fill the air.
She stopped struggling, forced to do nothing but watch in silence as the soldiers interrogated Rubina and Sacha. She couldn't hear what they were saying. Her pounding heart skipped another beat when one of the soldiers snatched a heavy pouch of gold coins away from Sacha's grasp. Whatever the soldier said after caused Rubina to raise her voice loud enough for them to hear.
"We earned it," She snapped fiercely, reaching forward in an attempt to take it back.
"Rubina, please," Sacha tried to calm his wife, clearly nervous.
"I'd listen to your husband, gypsy," the second soldier spat, "Until we can prove that these coins were truly earned and not stolen, you're coming with us."
Safira's eyes stung with tears, a small whimper escaping her lips as the soldier grabbed her mother's wrist. Clopin held Safira tighter against him, turning his back to the scene so she wouldn't bear witness but she could still hear everything.
"Why you-" Rubina's voice could be heard, "Unhand me, you brute!"
"Release my wife!" Sacha's shouted.
The sound of a sword unsheathing froze Safira's blood. Clopin's body stiffened. If he ran now, they would be seen and arrested. More so, Safira would be discovered along with the Court of Miracles. He had no choice but to stay put.
"Safira-" He started to speak but was cut off by the most traumatic sound Safira would ever hear.
Clopin flinched at the sound of a sword piercing through a human's body. It was a sound a Romani, sadly, became accustomed to hearing. Rubina released a gurgling gasp as she fell to her knees, the tormented cries of her husband following suit. His anguished screams sent goosebumps down Clopin and Safira's bodies. Safira would hide no more.
She shifted her face against Clopin's grip until her lips were free. She sank her teeth into his hand, biting until he released her with a pained hiss. She pushed against him with the intention of running towards her parents. She now stood in plain sight of the soldiers but her eyes were glued to the two lifeless bodies that lay on the ground. Blood pooled around Rubina and Sacha's lifeless bodies. Their lifeless eyes and shocked expressions nearly made her heave.
"No..." Safira whispered brokenly.
"Get out of here, kid" One of the soldiers shouted at her under the assumption she was a Parisian child, "I'm sure your parents are looking for you."
Her vision became a swirling scarlet sea of fire. A dark energy pulsated through her soul. Sorrow was forgotten and pain fueled a newfound rage. A demon-like snarl escaped her, her body responding before her mind could. She charged at the soldier with a deep thirst for revenge. She threw her entire weight onto him, knocking them both to the ground. Numb from head to toe, she hadn't even felt the pain of tackling the armored man.
Visibly stunned, both soldiers hesitated. The one who had been knocked down felt his helmet being removed. He looked into the dead, azure eyes of the child-demon. His eyes widened just before she began to violently smash the metal helmet on his face.
Once.
Twice.
Thrice.
The soldier groaned lowly, blood trickling down his face. He was conscious but just barely. The second soldier finally sprung into action.
"You little witch!" He shouted, oddly afraid of this bizarre display of violence from what appeared to be a girl, "I'll send you back to Hell!"
Safira looked up just in time as he ran to her and swung his sword with the intention to behead. She quickly ducked, narrowly missing the edge of the blade. The wounded man's sword slay slack in his hand. She quickly grabbed it, shutting her eyes tightly as she blindly thrusting it in the direction of the soldier who stood above her. She flinched at the splatter of blood that shot on her face, forcing her eyes open to see the soldier impaled on her sword.
Their eyes met. Safira was unable to look away as he gasped and gurgled. She let go of the sword, clumsily sliding off of the other soldier. She staggered backwards, watching the soldier she had stabbed slump to the ground, dead. The Heavens began to mourn this terrible event that took place before Notre Dame, heavy rains poured as strikes of lightning howled throughout the city.
Clopin pushed himself away from the cathedral wall, unable to steady his breathing. He could only describe what he had witnessed as... demonic. He took a step in Safira's direction but the soldier she had bashed in the head was suddenly twitching. He froze, his spit too thick to swallow.
Safira approached the soldier with an almost morbid curiosity. He was still alive. Looking up at the form that approached him, he was unable to speak. The flashes of lightning lit up her face briefly. An inexplicable fear entered him as he looked up into the hypnotizing eyes of the demon-child sent by the Grim Reaper himself. She was drenched in water; her face paint and strands of wet hair ran down her face, only adding to his horror. God had sent her as punishment for spilling Romani blood outside of the cathedral. He reached for her thin ankle, silently pleading for his life. Safira said nothing.
Instead, she grabbed the helmet and hit him on the head once more. He was unconscious. Alive? She didn't know nor did she care. The soldiers were forgotten, her attention turned towards the lifeless forms of her parents. Now that her wrath no longer blinded her, she shakily knelt down beside them. Her hand shook as she slowly reached to touch her mother's face. A violent jolt of lightning lit up the sky, bringing Safira's eyes to a silver glimmer that shone from her mother's pockets.
Safira reached in and pulled out a silver moon necklace. She clutched it in her hand, a sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach. Was this necklace meant as Safira's birthday gift? She had no more time to think as Clopin's shadowy figure brought her eyes upward.
Their eyes met and he stood still, staring into the eyes of someone he longer recognized. His body trembled and he didn't know if it was because of the cold rain or because of what he just witnessed. She slowly stood from where she knelt. Her sparkling blue eyes were as soulless as the corpses laid around them. Her unsettling demeanor made her almost inhuman. Silence followed for so long that Clopin jumped when she suddenly knelt back down, picking up a bloody sword. She turned her back to him and began to walk away.
"Safira," He called out shakily, his voice unrecognizable.
He shuddered when she all she did was look over her shoulder. She studied him briefly before continuing on her way. He could hear the clamoring of soldiers approaching and despite his instinct to run after her, cowardice took the best of him.
Clopin returned to the Court of Miracles through the graveyard and never went through the pothole entrance again.
