Legacy's Wake

The marine pulled out a thick stack of papers, flipping through them with casual interest, as if he were reading something as mundane as a grocery list. "You see, Miss Sendal, we've been rather patient with you." He lifted a page and read aloud. "Unpaid rent. Unpaid taxes. Unpaid merchant fees. A rather nasty little collection, wouldn't you say?"

A cold pit formed in her stomach, but she refused to let it show. "I told the collectors we just needed more time."

The Marine let out a sigh of exaggerated sympathy, shaking his head. "Oh, I'm sure you did. And I'm sure you've been trying. But trying doesn't pay off debts, now, does it?"

"I can give you half of what we owe by next week," she said quickly, desperation creeping into her voice despite herself. "Just give me a little longer."

The Marine clicked his tongue. "You misunderstand, dear. This isn't a negotiation. The World Government has been very generous in allowing you to stay in this little home of yours, but generosity doesn't last forever." His smirk widened, but his eyes remained as lifeless as ever. "And neither does patience."

One of the other Marines, a younger man with a square jaw, shifted beside him. "Captain, she's got nothing left to give. We should just—"

The mustached Marine raised a hand, silencing him without looking away from Sendal. Then he turned back to her, his voice dipping into something almost sweet. "Service, Miss Sendal. A few years of work under the right hands. In return, we forget about your debt. Your little sister keeps her home. No more collectors, no more late fees. Just good, honest labor."

Sendal's hands clenched into fists. "You mean slavery."

The Marine chuckled. "Such an ugly word. Service is a much better one, don't you think? And really, you should be grateful. Many don't get a second chance. You work under our command, and in return, your dear little sister stays out of harm's way."

Her blood ran cold.

Stitch.

She knew where this was going. Knew that if she said no, Stitch wouldn't be safe.

She forced herself to breathe, to keep her expression calm. "And if I refuse?"

The Marine's smirk faded. "Then we take both of you."

Under the bed, Stitch's fingers tightened around Mendy. Her breath hitched, but she bit her lip, forcing herself not to make a sound.

Sendal's breath came shallow. They weren't bluffing. The Marines never bluffed when it came to debts.

Her mind raced. If they took both of them, Stitch would be separated from her. Stitch—who had never lived without her, never known anything but the small home they had scraped by in. Stitch—who was still just a child, far too young to survive in the hands of slavers.

She had no choice.

Slowly, she exhaled. "If I agree… you leave my sister alone?"

The Marine's smirk returned. "That's the deal."

Sendal's hands trembled, but she nodded. "Fine. I'll go with you."

"Smart girl." The Marine gestured, and one of his men stepped forward, pulling out a set of iron cuffs. "You won't regret this. Well…" He chuckled. "Maybe you will. But at least you'll regret it alone."

The cuffs snapped around her wrists, cold and heavy.

As they pulled her forward, she stole one last glance toward the bedroom door.

Stay hidden, Stitch. Please, stay hidden.

Under the bed, Stitch squeezed Mendy so tightly her fingers ached. Her tiny body shook, silent tears sliding down her cheeks. She wanted to run out, to stop them, to grab her sister and never let go.

But she didn't move.

She didn't make a sound.

And then, with nothing but the fading echoes of boots against stone, Sendal was gone.

The door slammed shut with a hollow finality, and for a long, breathless moment, there was only silence. The air in the tiny home felt thick, suffocating, as if it had been drained of all warmth, all comfort. Stitch remained frozen under the bed, Mendy clutched against her chest, her tiny fingers digging into the soft fabric so tightly it nearly tore.

She wanted to believe this was a nightmare. That any second now, she would wake up to the sound of Sendal's gentle humming, to the scent of warm bread baking in the pan. But the distant echo of heavy boots on wet cobblestone told her otherwise.

She couldn't stay hidden any longer.

With trembling limbs, Stitch crawled out from under the bed, her vision blurry with tears she hadn't realized were falling. Her small feet carried her to the doorway, her breath hitching as she peered outside, her body shaking.

And there she was.

Sendal was already several steps away, her hands bound in thick iron cuffs, her head low. The rain had begun to fall harder, the cold droplets clinging to her hair, mixing with the silent tears running down her cheeks.

For a second, Stitch's voice caught in her throat. Her lips parted, but no sound came. The world was tilting, slipping from beneath her feet.

Then, finally, it came—shaky, quiet at first, but growing louder, more desperate.

"S-Sendal…?"

Her sister's shoulders stiffened.

Stitch's tears blurred her vision, but she didn't blink them away. She took a shaky step forward, her small fingers grasping the doorway for support.

"Sendal—! Where are they taking you? Why are you going with them?!"

At the sound of her name, Sendal's head snapped up, her eyes wide, heartbroken.

"No…" she whispered, shaking her head violently. "Stitch, go back inside!"

The Marines stopped, glancing between the two sisters with mild amusement.

Stitch didn't listen. She stepped further into the rain, her tiny frame trembling, her chest rising and falling in uneven gasps. "You promised! You said we'd wake up to a beautiful sunny day! You said we'd be together!"

Tears spilled freely down Sendal's face now. She tried to move, to reach out, but the cuffs held her back, the Marines keeping a firm grip on her arms.

"Stitch…" her voice cracked, breaking under the weight of helplessness. "I—I'm so sorry."

Stitch shook her head violently. "Don't go! Please! I don't want to be alone!"

Sendal let out a choked sob, struggling against the Marines for just a moment, trying desperately to get even a little closer. But the grip on her tightened, yanking her back.

"STITCH!" she screamed, her voice raw with agony. "I LOVE YOU! REMEMBER THAT! I LOVE YOU!"

Stitch's knees buckled beneath her, her body trembling. She watched as her sister was dragged further away, her cries swallowed by the pouring rain.

Sendal looked back one last time, her expression desperate, filled with sorrow—but also something else.

Love.

And then—

She was gone.

"You promised… Sendal… that we'd wake up together… to a sunny day…" Stitch's voice trembled, barely more than a whisper as the words fell from her lips. The rain poured relentlessly, soaking her small frame, but she hardly felt it. She stood frozen in place, her body heavy with shock, her heart pounding with fear.

Her sister was gone. Taken.

She was alone.

She didn't know how to fend for herself—not properly. She could barely cook, barely manage the simplest of tasks without Sendal's guiding hand. The weight of that realization pressed down on her chest like a boulder.

All she had now was her doll, Mendy, and the quiet rhythm of her needlework. But neither could bring back the warmth that had just been ripped away from her.

To be continued...