Legacy's Wake

Months passed since that cold, lonely night when Stitch had first crossed paths with Hollow. In those months, the warmth of his presence became a steady anchor in her life, something she had never known before. Slowly, Stitch grew stronger, physically and emotionally. She learned to trust Hollow, and in doing so, she began to heal. He never once showed her any cruelty, never pushed her when she was afraid, and never made her feel like she was a burden. Instead, he treated her with a care she hadn't thought possible from anyone. Over time, she began to think of him not just as someone who had saved her but as a brother—a protector, a guide, and someone who cared for her well-being.

They lived in a grand house—no, a palace, nestled in the heart of a bustling city. The royal household was vast and ornate, with marble floors and tall, towering windows that let in the sunlight in brilliant streams. The scent of fresh flowers and the hum of servants carrying out their duties filled the air, but there was something that made it all feel like home. Perhaps it was the warm hearth in the corner, where she often found Hollow reading or writing. Or maybe it was the fact that she was no longer alone in the world, left to fend for herself like she had been before.

The staff here were kind to her, too, treating her with respect and care, even though they didn't fully understand her presence. But Hollow made sure she was always safe, always protected, and always comfortable. She didn't have to worry about food anymore. She didn't have to worry about where she would sleep or whether she would be hurt. She had a bed, soft blankets, and clothes that fit her properly. Most importantly, she had Hollow.

Stitch spent her days helping out around the house. Though she was still young, she took pride in contributing to the household, feeling like she had a purpose for the first time in what felt like forever. She had learned to sew more than just simple clothes; Hollow had taught her how to make beautiful tapestries, intricate designs for the palace walls, and even had her create the most elaborate pieces to hang in his study. It was fulfilling to see her hard work displayed in such an important place. It made her feel needed and, for once, valuable.

As time passed, she began to see Hollow in a different light. He wasn't just the person who had saved her from the streets—he had become a constant in her life, someone she could depend on, a brother she could trust. She no longer feared him, no longer questioned his intentions. He had earned her trust, not by words alone, but by actions. He helped her grow, both in skill and in confidence. Every day, she became more and more convinced that she could be safe here, that she could make something of herself. He had given her the chance to find purpose again, to feel alive and whole.

"Hollow!" Stitch called one afternoon, running down the grand hallway. "I finished the new tapestry for your study!"

Hollow was standing by the window, looking out at the bustling street below. He turned when he heard her voice, a small smile forming on his lips as she bounded toward him, holding up the tapestry she had carefully stitched over the past few weeks.

"Did you now?" he asked, his voice warm with approval. "Let's see it then."

Stitch handed it over to him, her heart swelling with pride. The tapestry was vibrant, the threads catching the light and casting a soft glow. It depicted a scene of swirling stars and a moonlit sky, with intricate patterns surrounding the stars. It was unlike anything she had made before, and she couldn't wait to hear Hollow's thoughts.

He studied it for a moment, turning it over in his hands, before giving her a satisfied nod. "It's beautiful, Stitch. You've improved so much. You really are talented."

Her face flushed with pride, and she beamed at him. "Thank you, Hollow! I'm glad you like it."

He stepped closer, placing a hand gently on her shoulder. "You've done well. And I'm proud of you. You're growing into someone strong. You know that, right?"

Stitch's eyes softened. She had grown so much since that night, and so much of it had to do with Hollow. His encouragement, his guidance, had given her the confidence she now carried with her every day. She was learning, not just how to sew or take care of the household, but how to live without fear, without the constant feeling of being unwanted.

"I know, Hollow," she replied, her voice quieter now, filled with an emotion she had never really let herself feel before. "I'm so glad you're here."

Hollow's smile deepened, but there was something else in his gaze now, something more affectionate than before. "I'm glad you're here, too, Stitch. You've become so much more than just the girl I found that night. You've become someone strong—someone I'm proud to call family."

Stitch's chest tightened at the words. Family. She hadn't known what that word meant for so long, but now, with Hollow, she understood. She understood what it was like to have someone by your side who cared, who supported you, and who would never leave you behind.

Hollow's gaze softened as he placed a hand on her head, ruffling her hair. "You're not just a guest here anymore, Stitch. This is your home. You belong here, with me."

And for the first time in so long, Stitch felt like she truly did belong.

"Hollow... I made something special for you," Stitch said, her voice bubbling with pride and excitement. Hollow glanced at her, raising an eyebrow with a playful smirk. "Oh? Now you've got me intrigued. What's this surprise, Stitch?" he asked, his tone light with curiosity.

With a gleam in her eyes, Stitch reached into her bag and pulled out a small, carefully folded flag. She held it out to him, her hands trembling slightly with anticipation. "I sewed it just for you," she said, her voice filled with quiet confidence.

Hollow took the flag, inspecting the intricate stitching. When he unfurled it, he was met with a design that took him by surprise. It was a flag bearing the face of Mendy, the very doll that had been a constant companion to Stitch through all her hardships. The face was detailed, stitched with care, and somehow, despite its simplicity, it had an unmistakable life to it, almost as if Mendy herself had come to life in this form.

"I thought it would remind you of... well, everything you've done for me," Stitch explained, her voice softening as she gazed up at him. "Mendy's always been there for me, just like you. So I made this, to show you how much I appreciate everything."

Hollow's expression softened as he took in the flag, running his fingers over the carefully sewn details. For a moment, he didn't speak, lost in thought. Finally, he looked up at her, his smile genuine and warm. "You've done something beautiful here, Stitch," he said quietly. "It's more than just a flag. It's a reminder of the bond we share. I'll keep it with me always."

Stitch beamed at the praise, her heart swelling with happiness. She had created something meaningful, something that represented more than just a piece of fabric—it symbolized the love, the care, and the growth she had found in Hollow's presence.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice full of emotion.

Hollow placed the flag down on a nearby table, and then turned to her, his expression gentle but filled with sincerity. "No, Stitch. Thank you. You've come so far. I'm proud of you."

The warmth in his words filled her with a sense of belonging, and for the first time in her life, Stitch truly felt like she had found a place where she could always be herself—loved, cherished, and safe.

"Let's hang it up in the study," Hollow suggested. "It'll remind me every day of how much you've grown—and how lucky I am to have you in my life."

Stitch's eyes lit up, and she nodded enthusiastically. "Yes! That's perfect! Mendy will always be with us."

As they moved to hang the flag in the study, Stitch couldn't help but feel a deep sense of fulfillment. The small act of sewing a flag had turned into something much more—a symbol of her new life, a life full of promise and love. And as she hung it with Hollow's help, she knew that, no matter what came next, she would never again feel alone.

The wind had begun to pick up over the Cascade Cradle, carrying with it a subtle but dangerous tension. Stitch, once again, found herself sitting by a table in the study, stitching the flag she had so lovingly made for Hollow. Her fingers danced with the needle as the steady rhythm of her work calmed her thoughts. Hollow was out attending to some business—he often took care of matters around the estate, and Stitch had grown used to the peaceful solitude of the large home. She loved the feeling of safety that came with the royal household, but today, there was a sense of foreboding that made her heart race uneasily.

The sky above began to darken, the wind howling with increasing intensity as storm clouds gathered quickly. The distant sound of crashing waves carried on the wind, but it wasn't the sound of the storm that had made Stitch's skin prickle. There was something else. Something closer. The air felt charged, as if something dangerous was approaching—something she couldn't see, but she could feel in the pit of her stomach. She tried to shake the uneasy feeling, but it clung to her as she stitched, her hands trembling slightly.

It didn't take long before the first distant echo of chaos reached her ears. A loud crash of wood splintering and the unmistakable sound of voices—rough, angry, and unfamiliar. Her heart skipped a beat. She paused her stitching, her fingers hovering over the cloth, unsure if she had truly heard it or if her mind was playing tricks. But then, it came again: a series of sharp shouts, a thud, and the unmistakable crash of something being broken.

Her breath caught in her throat. Pirates. She knew that sound all too well.

Her mind raced as the realization set in. The pirates had come to Cascade Cradle. They were here to plunder, to take what they wanted, and that meant trouble for anyone unfortunate enough to be in their way. Stitch knew she had to act fast—Hollow wouldn't be home to protect her, and the pirates wouldn't care for her youth or innocence. She quickly stood up, her body tense, and made her way toward the door.

The house was eerily quiet, the atmosphere thick with the weight of impending danger. She had to hide. She couldn't let them find her. Her hands moved swiftly, searching for a place to tuck herself away. There was a small closet at the far end of the hall—a tight, dark space that she could crawl into. She didn't want to hide, but she knew she had no choice. She had to be smart, she had to survive.

Just as she was about to step into the closet, the front door burst open with a violent force. The hinges screamed in protest as several pirates stormed in, their boots pounding the wooden floors, their voices loud and filled with dark excitement. Stitch froze. Her breath caught in her throat. Her body went rigid, the air feeling thick and suffocating. She could hear their gruff voices as they spoke to one another, searching the house.

One of them, a tall man with a scar running down his cheek, stepped into the hallway. His eyes scanned the surroundings, landing on Stitch standing frozen in the middle of the room. His gaze hardened as he noticed her.

"Well, what do we have here?" he sneered. "A little girl. All alone."

Stitch didn't move. She couldn't. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and fear gripped her like an iron vice. She wanted to scream, to run, but she knew that would only make it worse.

The pirate with the scar gave a cold chuckle as he drew closer. His large, calloused hands reached out, grabbing her by the arm roughly. "You're coming with us, girl. I think we can make use of you."

Stitch struggled against his grip, but his hold was like iron, unyielding. "Let go of me!" she cried, her voice shaky but defiant. "I haven't done anything to you!"

The pirate only laughed in response, the sound cold and mocking. "You don't need to do anything to us, little girl. You've got something we need. And we're taking it."

He dragged her down the hall, and Stitch stumbled in his wake, trying to resist, but her strength was no match for his. The other pirates followed, some laughing, some muttering about what they would do with her. It didn't take long for them to reach the main room, where they gathered around her like vultures eyeing their prey.

The man with the scar held her still, his grip tight on her arm as another pirate, a lanky woman with short, messy hair, pulled something out from under her coat—a wicked-looking knife, its blade gleaming ominously in the dim light. Stitch's stomach twisted in fear as she instinctively took a step back.

"No… please…" she whispered, her voice shaking as she looked up at them. She didn't understand what they wanted, but her fear was growing with every second.

"You have talent, girl," the scarred man said, his voice low and dangerous. "You're a seamstress, right? You sew. We could use someone like you."

Stitch's eyes widened in confusion, her mind trying to process the words. "S-seamstress? I-I don't—"

Before she could finish her sentence, the pirate woman cut her off with a wicked smile, stepping forward. "You don't need to understand, little girl," she spat. "Just know that your talent will make us rich."

The woman raised the knife, and Stitch's breath hitched in her chest. The fear was overwhelming, but as the pirate swung the blade down, Stitch's instincts kicked in. She twisted and tried to break free, but the blade found its mark, slicing across her left eye with a sickening, painful sound.

A sharp, searing pain exploded in her face as blood poured from the wound, and Stitch screamed in agony. Her vision blurred, the world around her spinning as she fought to stay conscious.

She felt the cold metal of the blade against her skin, the wetness of her blood trickling down her face. The pain was unbearable, but it was the fear that consumed her—the fear of not knowing what would come next. The pirates didn't seem to care about her screams.

"You're ours now," the scarred man said, his voice cold and triumphant. "You'll sew for us. No one will ever find you again. Not after we're done with you."

Stitch's hands reached up to her eye, trembling as she tried to stop the blood, but it was futile. Her vision in that eye was gone, and all she could do was hold on to the painful reality of the moment. She was alone. And the world, once full of hope and safety, was now a place of overwhelming darkness.

The pirates laughed as they dragged her away, leaving her with nothing but the painful memory of the searing pain and the blood that marked the end of her innocence.

To be continued...