Esfir's POV
"You emerged from the abyss sooner than anticipated." I stood defiantly at the doorway, a towering figure, as my father's attention remained absorbed by documents.
My presence beneath him was inconsequential, an insignificant detail for the monster that disregarded any interest in my existence.
I struggled to stand tall, ankles shredded, the numbness radiating a dull, persistent ache.
Exiting the hole proved less arduous than perceived. Ripping shreds from my underwear, I fashioned makeshift grips. Amid the grueling ascent, exhaustion drifted into a mindless reverie, back to a time when peace wasn't a privilege but a child's birthright.
Walls in Russia, frigid even within opulent mansions, evoked memories of warmth—her warmth, her hair, perhaps a fleeting smile.
Adolphus—a name eternally haunting dreams, yet offering solace to waking memories.
"Thank you for noticing," my lips twitched, a glimmer of pride for completing the test prematurely, and more so for my father acknowledging it. A rarity in a timeline marked by scars.
I stood taller, the skin on my ankles tightening in unbearable agony.
"Dogs are crossing territories, our target: Nicky Proviss. Gear up, leave in three hours at the border," he tossed the file without a glance, and I retrieved it, suppressing the anguish screaming from my ankles.
"Yes, father." Turning to depart for cleansing.
"And Esfir, don't disappoint me again. Be grateful for this assignment after your recent mistake," his voice, cold and stern, hung in the air. I vowed not to disappoint.
"I am grateful, father. Thank you." He dismissed me with a wave, and I strode to my room. The paintings threw disdainful glances; I bypassed her portrait this time, encountering staff and guards who bowed in my presence.
Covered in meager attire, my chest and lower torso lay bare, a deliberate display. Respect, or perhaps fear, guided their lowered gazes.
No one dared to stare, having learned not to gawk at my visage since my first maid wept at my feet.
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"Dear God, Esfir!"
Her scream reached Esfir's ears, but comprehension eluded her fuzzy brain. Warmth enveloped her suddenly, too warm. Esfir's face pressed against warm skin that met her icy cheek.
"Master, she is a child! Your child. How dare you!" The maid cradled Esfir, her warmth a revelation.
Esfir, aged mentally beyond her fourteen years, succumbed to the weight of her father's words and her uncle's experiments, morphing from child to killer.
"Esfir, will you let her disrespect me?" His cold voice resonated, but the warmth of the maid beckoned, a home she longed for...
Yet, no.
Superhuman strength seized her; Esfir's nails dug into the maid's neck, warmth now replaced with a sickening sensation. The maid's neck like butter opened with ease. She collapsed with a thud, blood coating Esfir's fingers and the floor.
The staff observed from shadows, fearing Esfir, a child.
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En route, I perused the file.
Victim: Nicky Proviss
Age: Twenty-nine
Species: Human
YOU ARE READING
Shadows of the Shifter
FantasyEsfir Cyrazine, a seasoned assassin, navigates the unfamiliar realm of emotions ensnared by her abusive father. As she seeks elusive sentiments, she risks her standing in a secretive facility, facing relocation and dehumanizing processing rituals. ...
