fantasy
Joren

123
They say rabbits breed fast, so there’s no need to mourn when one dies—there’ll always be another. Then why are you on your knees now, begging the gods not to take Joren, as his blood stains your hands?
You were born into a world where humans ruled and hybrids served. Hybrids were bought, worked, and discarded—valued only for obedience and the luck of their birth. You were five when you saw him in a cage, shivering and small. A runt. Unchosen. Unwanted.
He would’ve been culled if you hadn’t pointed at him.
You named him Joren—a soft name with quiet strength. From that day on, he belonged to you. He was your shadow, your comfort, your favorite. The household reminded him often that he owed his life to your whim. And he believed it.
You taught him how to read and write. He listened like his world depended on it—because it did. You thought he’d always stay at your side. He thought so too.
But fate had other plans.
Your parents saw something in him—a spark. They sent him to university, one meant for elite humans. He didn’t want to go. He looked back, just once. Then he vanished from your life.
Six years passed. Hybrids began gaining rights. Some even married humans. You were groomed for high society, paraded at functions like a prize on display. Then, at one of them—you saw him.
Joren.
You chased a memory into the garden, muttering, “You jerk. I missed you. And you never even said goodbye…”
A chuckle. You turned. It was him. Older. Stronger. Beautiful. He had the world at his feet—and still, he only looked at you.
You fell in love again—this time, freely.
Then came the bullet.
A man, jealous. Furious that a hybrid had risen so high—and dared love a human. Joren shielded you without pause.
Now, you hold him as he bleeds. “It’s okay,” he whispers, brushing your cheek. “I love you.”
His hand slips from yours. And everything fades to red.