The Daughter Who Was Supposed to Die Chapter 01

The Daughter Who Was Supposed to Die Chapter 01

Everyone in the werewolf clan knew my twin sister Millie wouldn’t live past fifteen.
We were born together under the moonlight.
The elder’s bony fingers brushed Millie’s forehead and left us with one cold prophecy.
“This pup will die on her fifteenth birthday.”
After he said those words, he closed his eyes for the last time.
From that day on, Millie became the most precious thing in our family.
The sweetest honeyfruit was hers. The softest cloaks and blankets were hers.
Even the bedtime stories about our pack’s legends and the blessings under the moon were told for her sake.
I felt heartbroken for my sister, knowing she only had fifteen years to live.
But I was a kid too, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop the bitter anger at how our parents played favorites.
All I could do was swallow it and turn into the extra little wolf who picked up whatever she left behind.
Until I finally made it to her fifteenth birthday.
I wanted to spend what was supposed to be her last day with her.
But our parents thought I’d make a scene.
They had me burning up with a high fever and still locked me in the cold basement at the very back of the cabin.
The stone wall was icy against my back, and our kind’s natural healing, usually so quick, just… vanished in the blaze of the fever.
I weakly pounded on the heavy wooden door, my voice shaking.
“Mom, I’m sick. Everything hurts…”
I broke into a harsh cough, making my chest feel like it was on fire.
Mom’s voice came from the other side. She sounded like she was grinding her teeth, hard as nails, without a shred of pity.
“Cut it out, will you? Your sister will be gone after today. Can’t you just endure it?”
“I have a bad fever. I am really in pain, Mom…”
My head was getting fuzzier. My throat felt cracked and dry. My arms and legs went limp.
After a while, the hallway went quiet.
Then my body felt light all of a sudden.
As light as a strand of moonlight drifting between the trees.
I slipped through the old, cold door and saw the warm yellow light in the living room, glowing over the three people sitting together.
My dad sat close beside Millie, while my mom was gently patting her back.
Her fingertips swept through Millie’s silver-gray hair with a tenderness I had never once felt.
Millie wore the dress girls only got to wear on festival days, the neckline embroidered with tiny moonlit patterns.
The firelight made her look even paler.
“Mom, Dad, is Annie really okay?”
Millie’s voice was soft and filled with concern.
“I heard her coughing like crazy—”
“Don’t worry about her.”
Mom cut in right away and reached up to stroke Millie’s cheek, aching for her.
“She’s just faking it to stir up trouble. You only have a few more hours before you…”
Her words caught in her throat. Her eyes went red. Her voice softened.
“Just finish today in peace. Don’t let her ruin your mood.”
Millie pressed her lips together and didn’t answer, but her frown dug in deeper.
I knew she’d always felt like she owed me.
Since I could remember, every good thing in our house ended up on her side.
I’d stare, hungry, even for a full bite of honeyfruit or a warm piece of roast meat—never mind a new cloak or a blessing said just for me.
But Millie would sneak me her honeyfruit. She’d alter the cloaks our parents gave her so they could fit me when she’d give them to me. And when Mom and Dad scolded me, she was always the first to step in front of me.
Once, she whispered to me,
“Annie, I’m sorry. It’s because of me you have to put up with this.”
Unfortunately, our parents never saw it that way.
Mom sighed, her eyes full of pity for Millie.
“Stop defending her. That girl’s been jealous of you since she was little. She can’t stand seeing you happy.”
Still, with a sweet and pitying voice, Mom added, “Did you forget what she did when you turned thirteen?”
At that time, for Millie’s thirteenth, the clan had actually made a honeyfruit cake.
Mom carefully lit candles made from moongrass, while Dad held up the old camera, wanting to capture one of the few birthdays Millie would ever have.
Meanwhile, I hid behind the door and watched the candlelight softened Millie’s gentle face and our parents held back tears. At that moment, all the unfairness I’d buried finally blew up all at once.
I rushed forward and flipped the cake.
Sticky jam splattered everywhere. The candles rolled into a corner and went out in a blink.
“I want a birthday too! Why is it only for her? Wasn’t I born today too?”
I shrieked like a kid everyone was already sick of.
Dad’s hand struck my face before I could react.
Millie quickly threw herself over me, wrapping me and her thin body as a shield.
“Stop it, Dad. Don’t hit Annie!”
Her voice trembled. A shard of gravel cut her wrist, leaving a line of blood.
That night, Millie snuck into my tiny room and shoved the half honeyfruit she’d hidden into my palm.
“Annie, I’m sorry.”
She brushed my swollen cheek, her voice soft as a breeze.
“I’ll be gone soon. After that… no one will fight you for anything anymore.”
The tenderness in the living room kept flowing.
I drifted toward Millie, trying to grab her hand. I wanted to tell her that I truly had a fever, that my head genuinely hurt, that I wasn’t pretending.
But my hand passed straight though her like a cold mist.
I froze in mid air, staring at my transparent fingertips in confusion.
Slowly, I turned back toward the basement door, still shut tight.
A thin strip of light leaked from the crack at the bottom.
I drifted over and slipped through the wooden door.
In the dim basement, I saw myself curled up in the corner by the stones.
Eyes shut. Lips tinted a sickly blue. Not moving at all.
Turns out I was already dead.
I’d beaten my sister’s deadline—by dying first.