Conversation

Changra stood in the swirling void of Berethia's mind, the faint glow of green light casting long, ethereal shadows across the ever-shifting landscape. The chaos around him mirrored the storm inside her, a place where time and space seemed to fold in on themselves. And there she stood—Berethia, her eyes blazing with envy, her posture proud yet fragile, as if she were both holding herself together and ready to fall apart at any moment.

"You've seen it, haven't you?" Berethia's voice was softer now, less manic than before. There was a tremble beneath her words, a vulnerability that barely peeked through the cracks of her madness. "You saw how it all started."

Changra nodded slowly, his expression unreadable. "Yeah… I saw it."

Berethia's lips curled into a bitter smile, her fingers tightening around the staff in her hands. "And now you think I'm a monster."

Changra didn't respond immediately. His gaze wandered, taking in the fractured, chaotic expanse of her mind. Finally, he sighed, his voice quieter than usual. "I think you're… complicated."

Her laughter was sharp, cutting through the void like a blade. "Complicated? That's the polite way of saying you think I'm insane."

"Maybe," Changra admitted, his honesty disarming in its simplicity. "But I get it. At least, I think I do. Being ignored, being forgotten—it messes with you. Makes you do things you wouldn't normally do."

Berethia's grip on her staff loosened slightly, her glowing eyes softening as she studied him. "And what would you know about it, boy of prophecy? Everyone looks at you like you're special, like you're some savior."

Changra's jaw tightened, his gaze snapping back to her. "You think that's easy? Having everyone expect something from you? To be something you're not? You think I wanted this?"

Berethia opened her mouth to retort but stopped herself. For a moment, the storm of envy in her eyes flickered, replaced by something else—understanding. She closed her eyes, letting out a shaky breath.

"I didn't want this either," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I just wanted them to see me. To hear me."

Changra took a cautious step closer, his voice softening. "I did. I heard you. That's why I'm here."

Berethia's eyes snapped open, her expression unreadable as she stared at him. The void around them shifted, the green glow dimming as if reflecting the crack in her defenses. "And what now, Changra?" she asked, her tone heavy with bitterness. "What do you plan to do with what you've seen?"

The question hung between them, unanswered, as the chaos of her mind churned in restless silence.

Changra's eyes locked onto Berethia's, his voice low but steady as he took another step forward. "I hate you," he said, the words cutting through the silence like a blade.

Berethia's bitter smile faltered, her glowing eyes narrowing as her grip on the staff tightened. "Hate me all you want," she spat, though her voice wavered. "It won't change anything."

Changra's fists clenched at his sides, his emotions roiling like a storm threatening to break free. "No, it won't. It won't bring them back. Callen, Tessa, Liora—what you did to them, what you took from me—it's unforgivable. Bren and Meryn, too. All those people, all those lives you destroyed. And for what?"

Her eyes flickered, the storm of green light around her dimming slightly. "You think I don't know that?" she hissed. "You think I don't carry them with me every second of every day? Their screams, their faces—it's all in here." She tapped her temple with a trembling finger, her voice breaking. "I can't forget them, no matter how much I want to."

"And neither can I," Changra shot back, his voice rising. "But the difference is, I didn't cause it. You did. You chose this."

Berethia's bitterness surged again, her expression twisting into a sneer. "You don't understand anything. You think you're better than me? You think you wouldn't have done the same if you were in my place?"

Changra's eyes blazed, his voice cold as steel. "Maybe I would've. Maybe I wouldn't. But that doesn't change what you've done. You've destroyed everything I cared about, and for that, I want you dead."

The words hung in the air, heavy with finality. Berethia stared at him, her breath hitching as the storm around her flared for a moment, then dimmed again. "Then why are you here?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "Why not finish it?"

Changra's jaw tightened, his hands shaking as he took another step closer. "Because even after all of it, I'd still want to save you. Even if that means killing you. If it sets you free from this—this madness, this curse—you deserve that much."

Berethia's expression twisted, a mix of anger, confusion, and something deeper—pain. "You'd kill me… to save me?"

Changra nodded, his voice quieter now, but no less firm. "If it's the only way, yes. I can't forgive you, Berethia. I won't forgive you. But I can't just let you keep doing this, either. Not to me, not to anyone else."

Berethia's staff trembled in her hands, the green glow pulsating unevenly as her emotions churned. For a moment, the chaos in her eyes softened, replaced by something almost human.

"You think you can save me?" she asked, her voice barely audible.

Changra exhaled shakily, his gaze unwavering. "I don't know. But I have to try."

Berethia's grip on her staff loosened, her eyes flickering with a mix of emotions. The green glow dimmed slightly as her voice softened, tinged with a vulnerability that Changra hadn't seen before.

"The first time we talked," she began, her words slow and deliberate, "I thought… I thought maybe I could change. That maybe I wasn't completely lost."

Changra frowned, his anger still simmering beneath the surface, but he remained silent, letting her speak.

"You stared at me," she continued, her lips curving into a faint, bitter smile. "The way you looked at me—it was weird, almost creepy. But… it was the first time I'd felt seen in years. Not as a tool, not as someone to be discarded, but as… as me."

She paused, her fingers trembling as she gripped the staff again. "For a moment, I felt something I hadn't felt in so long. Something that could've saved me."

Changra's gaze softened despite himself. His jaw tightened as he struggled to reconcile the woman in front of him with the monster he had fought before.

"But then," Berethia continued, her voice hardening, "as time went on, I realized who you were. What you were. The boy of prophecy." She spat the words, the green glow of her staff flaring again.

Changra's heart sank as her eyes blazed with renewed intensity, the storm of her emotions swirling around them once more.

"You," she whispered, her tone dripping with bitterness. "The one destined to bring the Crimson King back. The one they all looked to, while I was cast aside. I should've known. The moment I felt that spark of hope, I should've known it would only lead to this."

Berethia's gaze pierced through Changra, the storm of her emotions reflected in the flickering green light of her staff. Her voice was strained, each word dripping with venom and sorrow.

"Even if I wanted to change," she began, her grip tightening around the staff, "even if I wanted to be something more than this… curse, I couldn't. Do you know why?"

Changra didn't answer, his fists clenched at his sides as he waited for her to continue.

"Because my entire purpose," she said bitterly, her tone trembling, "was to nurture you. To guide you. To make sure you became exactly what you're supposed to be. The boy of prophecy. The one who would revive the Crimson King."

Her words struck him like a blow, the weight of her confession settling heavily in the space between them.

"You," she hissed, her eyes blazing with raw envy, "you were meant for so much more. You were destined to change the world, while I was nothing more than a stepping stone. A means to an end."

Changra's jaw tightened, his voice low and steady. "I didn't ask for any of this."

Berethia laughed sharply, the sound brittle and hollow. "Of course you didn't. That's the cruelest part of all, isn't it? You don't even want it. And yet… everything. Everything is handed to you. The power, the attention, the purpose. While I—"

She broke off, her voice faltering as her envy flared visibly, swirling around her like a storm.

"While I was left with nothing," she continued, her voice quieter now, but no less filled with bitterness. "Even that spark of hope I felt when we first met—when you noticed me, looked at me like I mattered—it was crushed the moment I realized what you were."

Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, her tone trembling as her emotions threatened to overwhelm her. "You, destined for greatness, while I… I'm destined to be your shadow. To watch as the world revolves around you, while I'm consumed by the very thing that keeps me alive."

Berethia's grip on her staff faltered for a moment, her voice breaking. "Do you have any idea what that feels like, Changra? To want to change, to want to be better, but to know—deep down—that you're nothing compared to someone like you?"

Berethia's breath hitched as she continued, her voice raw, unguarded. "I envied you from the moment I realized who you were. I envied the way the world seemed to bend around you, the way people looked at you. Even when you didn't understand it, even when you didn't want it—you had it all."

Changra's fists unclenched slightly, his arms hanging at his sides as he listened. He didn't know if it was the storm of emotions in her voice or the strange weight of her words, but something about the way she spoke silenced the raging thoughts in his own mind.

"You could've saved me," Berethia whispered, her voice barely audible. "If I'd met you before all of this—before I became this—I might've been different. I might've been… someone worth saving."

Her shoulders sagged, the green glow of her staff flickering erratically. "But it doesn't matter, does it? Even if I wanted to change, the envy would never let me. I'd always look at you and see everything I'll never be. Everything I could've been if the world had been just a little kinder."

Changra's jaw tightened as her words hung in the air. He felt a pang of something he couldn't quite name—sympathy? Pity? No, it was deeper than that. It was the faint, bitter taste of understanding.

"Do you know what hurts the most?" Berethia asked, her voice trembling. "It's that even now, even with all this power, I still wish you'd look at me the way you look at her."

Changra blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift in her tone. Her voice had softened, the venom momentarily replaced by something far more human—vulnerability.

"I wish," she continued, her gaze dropping to the ground, "that I could be someone worth envying. Someone you'd… care about. Instead of just… hating me."

The storm around her quieted, the green glow dimming as her words trailed off. For a moment, the chaotic void of her mind seemed to still, leaving only the two of them standing in the eerie silence.

Changra exhaled slowly, his voice breaking the quiet. "You're just a sad girl, huh?"

Berethia's head snapped up, her glowing eyes wide with shock as his words echoed in the stillness. For a moment, she looked less like the Sin of Envy and more like the girl she once was—confused, hurt, and utterly lost.

Berethia's eyes narrowed, the flicker of confusion in her expression quickly giving way to defensiveness. She tightened her grip on her staff, her voice sharp and laced with uncertainty.

"What do you mean by that?" she demanded, her tone wavering despite the edge she tried to maintain. "Sad? You think I'm sad?"

Changra's gaze didn't waver, his expression steady as he answered. "Yeah. Sad. All of this—everything you've done, everything you've become—it's because you're sad, Berethia. You're broken, and instead of trying to fix yourself, you let it consume you."

Her jaw clenched, the green glow of her staff flaring as if reacting to her emotions. "You don't know anything about me," she spat, though her voice trembled slightly. "You think you can just stand there and judge me? After everything I've been through?"

"I'm not judging you," Changra replied, his tone calm but firm. "I'm just saying what I see. You're not some unstoppable force, Berethia. You're not even Envy. You're just a girl who's been hurt so many times that she stopped trying to heal."

Berethia's eyes widened, her lips parting as if to respond, but no words came out. The storm around them seemed to still for a moment, the chaotic energy of her mind faltering as his words sank in.

"That's what I mean," Changra continued, his voice quieter now. "You're sad. And that sadness? It's what's killing you, Berethia. Not me. Not anyone else. Just you."

She took a step back, her grip on her staff loosening as the glow dimmed. Her expression flickered between anger, confusion, and something far more fragile—something almost like regret.

Changra sighed, shaking his head as a faint, sarcastic smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "You know, Berethia," he started, his tone lighter, almost teasing, "for someone who's supposed to be this big, bad, world-destroying Sin of Envy, you sure do talk a lot about feelings. Are you sure you're not the Sin of Overthinking?"

Berethia blinked, her confusion deepening as his sudden shift in tone caught her off guard. "What are you—"

"I mean, seriously," Changra interrupted, raising his hands in mock surrender. "You're here, all doom and gloom, going on about how sad and envious you are. Meanwhile, I'm just trying to figure out how I ended up in a magical therapy session."

Berethia's grip on her staff tightened again, the green glow sparking as her irritation flared. "Are you mocking me?" she snapped, her voice rising.

"Mocking you? Me?" Changra gasped, his expression exaggeratedly innocent. "Never. I'd never mock the mighty Sin of Envy. I mean, what kind of guy do you think I am?"

Her jaw clenched, her frustration evident, but there was a flicker of something else in her expression—confusion, maybe even amusement, though she would never admit it. "You think this is funny?" she hissed.

"Not funny, exactly," Changra replied, his smirk widening. "More like… ironic. You've got all this power, Berethia. Enough to destroy entire villages, summon monsters, drag people into your mind, and yet here we are, having a heart-to-heart like we're old friends."

Berethia's eyes narrowed, the storm around her crackling faintly. "You're impossible."

"And you're predictable," Changra shot back, his tone still playful but with a hint of seriousness. "Every time someone gets close to seeing the real you, you lash out. It's almost like you're afraid of what might happen if someone actually cared."

Her expression faltered, the green glow dimming once more. For a moment, she looked at him not with anger or envy, but with something closer to confusion—and maybe even fear.

"You're trying to distract me," she said, her voice quieter now, though her tone lacked its usual venom.

"Maybe," Changra admitted, shrugging. "Or maybe I'm just trying to remind you that you're still human under all that envy. Either way, it's working."

Changra ran a hand through his hair, his smirk softening into something more relaxed. "You know, Berethia," he started, his tone lighter but still teasing, "when we first met, I thought you were the most beautiful person I'd ever seen."

Berethia blinked, the green glow around her flickering as her eyebrows rose in surprise. "What?"

"Oh, yeah," he continued, nodding solemnly as if he were delivering the most important speech of his life. "I mean, you had this whole mysterious, 'don't mess with me' vibe going on. And let's not forget the way you looked at me like I was some lost puppy. Very charming."

Berethia stared at him, her lips parting slightly as if to respond, but he didn't give her the chance.

"And then," he added, holding up a finger, "you went and saved my sorry butt. Sure, you were probably just 'nurturing' me or whatever, but it still felt like you cared. Even if it was just a little."

The corners of her lips twitched, almost imperceptibly, but Changra caught it. He grinned, taking it as a small victory.

"Of course," he went on, crossing his arms with a mock-serious expression, "you kind of ruined the whole 'mysterious beauty' thing when you started calling me names and throwing magic at my face. But hey, nobody's perfect."

Berethia's grip on her staff loosened further, the storm around her growing quieter. Her lips pressed together, but he could see the faintest hint of amusement in her glowing eyes.

"You're insufferable," she muttered, though her tone lacked the usual venom.

"Yeah, I get that a lot," Changra replied, shrugging. "But admit it, I'm growing on you. Like a really annoying fungus."

Berethia let out a short, sharp laugh, as if the sound had escaped her before she could stop it. She quickly pressed a hand to her mouth, but it was too late.

"There it is," Changra said, pointing at her with a triumphant grin. "The legendary Berethia laughed. Mark the date and time, folks—this is history in the making."

Berethia shook her head, a small, incredulous smile tugging at her lips despite herself. "You're ridiculous."

"And you're smiling," he shot back, his tone playful. "Which means I win."

In his head, though, the playful facade wavered.

She's smiling now, but I still have to kill her. I don't have a choice. After everything she's done… I can't let her keep going. I can't let her hurt anyone else.

Berethia shook her head, laughter still bubbling up from her lips even as her words came out uncertain. "You're insane, Changra. Or Kael. Or whatever you're calling yourself these days."

"I like to think of it as charmingly unpredictable," Changra replied, flashing her a grin. "Keeps people on their toes. Keeps you on your toes, apparently."

Berethia snorted, her laughter fading slightly, though her smile lingered. But then, her expression shifted, a flicker of confusion crossing her face. "I'm… Envy, you know," she said, almost as if she were trying to convince herself. "That's what I am. Envy. Not Berethia."

Changra tilted his head, his smile softening but not disappearing. "Is that so? Because it sure sounds like Berethia's still in there, laughing at my terrible jokes."

She hesitated, her eyes narrowing as if she were trying to see through his words. "No… no, I'm Envy," she muttered, gripping her staff tighter. But then, almost in the same breath, she added, "Or am I still Berethia? I don't—"

Her voice cracked, and she laughed again, a strange, hollow sound. "See? You've got me questioning myself. And you're the one calling me crazy?"

Changra forced a chuckle, but inside, his thoughts churned with grim clarity.

She's slipping. She's trying to hold onto something, but it's not her anymore. It's Envy. That part of her—the Sin—it's not going anywhere. I can try to bring her back all I want, but… it's no use.

Berethia laughed again, though her voice trembled. "What am I even doing? Talking to you, joking with you like any of this matters. You're just like the rest of them. Aren't you? You see me, but you don't see me."

Changra's grin faltered slightly, though he kept his tone light. "I think I'm seeing a lot more than you're giving me credit for, Berethia. Or Envy. Or whatever combination of the two you're going with."

Her eyes flickered, the storm of green energy around her staff dimming for a moment before flaring up again. "It doesn't matter," she said, her words sharp but lacking conviction. "Berethia or Envy, it's all the same. I'll never be free of this. It's who I am."

Changra exhaled slowly, his gaze steady as he watched her struggle with herself.

She's right. Envy isn't just a part of her—it's her core now. I thought maybe I could talk to her, reach the girl she used to be, but it's no use. She's too far gone. The only way to save her is to end this. To end her.

He clenched his fists at his sides, forcing himself to keep up the facade of calm. "Maybe it's not about being one or the other," he said, his tone carefully neutral. "Maybe it's just about deciding who you want to be in this moment."

Berethia laughed again, though it sounded more like a sob. "That's easy for you to say, isn't it? You, who doesn't even know who you are. Changra, Kael, boy of prophecy—what does any of it even mean?"

Changra's grin returned, though it didn't reach his eyes. "It means I'm the guy who's here right now, making terrible jokes at your expense."

Her smile wavered, her grip on her staff loosening slightly. But the flicker of humanity in her eyes was brief, quickly replaced by the storm of Envy once more.

She's gone. Berethia's in there somewhere, but Envy will never let her go. This… this is the only way it ends.

Berethia's laughter faded into a strained silence, her hands trembling as they clutched her staff. The storm around her crackled faintly, the green glow pulsing unevenly, mirroring her fractured state.

"I'm Envy," she muttered, her voice hollow. Then, almost immediately, she contradicted herself, "No… I'm Berethia. I am—was—Berethia."

Changra stayed quiet, watching her carefully as she spiraled deeper into the chaos of her own mind.

"I don't know who I am," she said, her tone sharp and bitter. "I'm the girl who wanted to be noticed. I'm the monster who burned it all down. I'm the Sin who will never be anything more."

Her words hung in the air, heavy with despair, as she turned her gaze back to Changra. "Do you understand, Changra? Do you see it now? There's no saving me. There's no redemption. There's just this."

Changra opened his mouth to respond, but before he could speak, she laughed again—a broken, hollow sound that echoed in the void of her mind. "It's funny, isn't it? All this power, all this rage, and I can't even figure out who I am."

Her grip on her staff faltered, and she stumbled slightly, her shoulders slumping as though the weight of her contradictions was too much to bear. She whispered, "Am I even worth saving?"

Changra's throat tightened, but he didn't move. His mind screamed with conflicting emotions—anger, pity, frustration—but his body remained frozen, rooted in place by the raw vulnerability in her voice.

Then, almost too softly to hear, she whispered again, "Please kill me."

The words were faint, barely audible, but they hit Changra like a physical blow. His eyes widened as he stared at her, the storm of green energy dimming around her, leaving only the broken girl behind the Sin.

Berethia didn't look at him. She simply stood there, her shoulders shaking, her voice trembling as she repeated, just loud enough for him to hear, "Please… kill me."