Cato turned from the window, his moment of respite over. His little sister, Lydia, lay sleeping on his bed, her small form curled up in exhaustion. She had been helping their mother all day, her youthful energy finally giving way to fatigue. She had tried to talk to him but had fallen asleep mid-sentence, her words trailing off into the realm of dreams. As a good big brother, Cato had gently carried her to his bed, tucking her in with a care that belied his usually stern demeanor.
Despite their relentless efforts, it seemed that the family could never make real progress. Demons were universally scorned, their inherent goodness ignored in favor of old prejudices. Lydia had been bullied at school just a few days ago, an event that had ignited a fierce protective instinct in Cato. He had vowed to make the culprit pay for their cruelty, but that mission would have to wait.
He moved swiftly through the house, gathering what he needed. His grimoire, a vital tool that could summon his sword and amplify his magical abilities, was the first thing he grabbed. He also took a few shards of broken mirror, each one a potential weapon in his hands, and a ham and cheese sandwich for sustenance.
Unbeknownst to him, Lydia had woken up and silently followed him out. The door, unable to be locked due to their meager circumstances, had allowed her to slip out unnoticed, her curiosity and concern leading her to trail behind her brother.
Cato found himself at a large crescent moon-shaped table, a man cloaked in shadows sitting across from him. Three other opponents flanked them, the air thick with tension and unspoken challenges. This was a gambling game, a risky venture Cato had joined in hopes of doubling his modest earnings.
Meanwhile, Lydia, growing bored of waiting, wandered around the bustling area. She marveled at the trinkets and magic on display, her eyes wide with wonder. Lacking any magic herself, she approached a burly man and spoke softly, "Hey there..." When he didn't respond, she tried again, louder this time, "Hi there, mister!"
"Hm?" The man finally acknowledged her, his attention reluctantly drawn.
"Wanna be friends?" Lydia asked, her smile wide and innocent, her hand outstretched.
...
A loud bang echoed from a nearby alleyway, interrupting Cato's thoughts. The game had ended, and he had won enough to support his family for a while. But the sound piqued his curiosity, and he decided to investigate.
As he turned the corner, his blood ran cold. Lydia was being hurled against a wall by Ayaz Andri, a noble known for his cruelty. Her small body hit the wall with a sickening thud, the impact knocking the wind out of her. Bruises and cuts marred her delicate skin, evidence of the violence she had endured.
"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?" Cato roared, his grimoire appearing at his side in a flash of pink and black. The book's pale pink pages and black inscriptions glowed with a menacing light. His outward calm belied the storm brewing within.
Cato positioned himself protectively in front of Lydia, his gaze flicking back to her briefly. She was groaning in pain, trying valiantly not to cry, but it was clear her resolve was breaking.
“You think you can harm my sister and walk away?” Cato’s voice was low and deadly, each word dripping with menace.
Ayaz smirked, though his confidence faltered under Cato's intense glare. “She was in my way. A demon girl with no magic, hardly worth—”
“Say another word, and it’ll be your last,” Cato interrupted, his voice icy.
Cato's hand tightened around the hilt of his broadsword, the blade gleaming ominously in the dim light. He moved with calculated precision, a predator stalking his prey. Ayaz raised his weapon, but it was a futile gesture against Cato's wrath. With a swift, decisive strike, Cato disarmed him, the sword clattering uselessly to the ground.
Ayaz's eyes widened in fear. “You won’t kill me. You’re just a—”
“Just a demon?” Cato finished for him, his voice a cold whisper. “I am so much more.”
With one final, brutal blow, Cato left Ayaz crumpled and defeated on the ground. He didn't kill him, but the message was unmistakable. He turned, scooping Lydia into his arms, cradling her gently.
“Let’s go home,” he murmured, his voice softening as he looked at her. “You’re safe now.”
As they walked away, Cato’s thoughts were filled with the image of Lydia’s bruised face. He would do whatever it took to protect her, to ensure no one ever hurt her again. The hierarchy be damned—his family came first.
Winter 
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