The night air was cold, but the terror gripping my heart was colder. "Mom no!" I screamed, my voice raw as masked men ripped me from my bed, the rough carpet burning my skin as they dragged me across the floor.

My mother's choked whisper, "Luna... I'm sorry," was the last fragile thread of comfort before a massive hand hauled me into the air, throwing me over a broad shoulder. Green eyes, cold and piercing even in the dim light, bore into me, and a primal fear seized my every cell. What was happening? Why didn't she stop them? My frantic thrashing was useless against the man's unyielding grip. He carried me out of the room, my mother frozen in the corner, blocked by a dark figure in a suit. Her silence was a scream in itself, drowned out by my own petrified cries as I was pulled deeper into the nightmare.