Chapter-26 Frideria's Awakening

The moment Frederique drifted into sleep, her consciousness melted away, leaving behind an emptiness... the silence of true human slumber.

And in that silence, Frideria awakened.

Not in the dreamscape of Frederique's mind, but in the real world.

Her ruby-red eyes snapped open, gleaming faintly in the dim half-light of the apartment. She sat up in the bed they shared, moving with eerie fluidity, completely silent.

No heartbeat. No breath. No pulse.

Yet she was.

Frideria flexed her fingers, pale against the moonlight streaming in through the window. For the first time, the hunger did not control her.

It was still there... gnawing, endless... but quieter now. Familiar.

Tamed.

Almost a week had passed since her birth in this world. In that time, Frideria had learned more than mere instincts. She had watched, listened.

When Frederique was awake, Frideria saw and heard everything. A silent observer in their shared body.

But when Frederique slept, the world belonged to her.

And tonight, she did not want to feed.

Tonight, she wanted to understand.

Rising from the bed, her movements were soundless. A predator's grace. She felt the weight of the hunger pressing deeper as she took control, but it was manageable now. No more blind impulse to devour.

She had watched the Shadow Corp closely during their training. Lira, Eirlys, the Captain. They had all spoken of Arts. Magic tied to their very beings.

But no one had spoken of what Frideria could do.

' What am I capable of? '

The words pulsed in her mind, as instinctive as breathing had once been for Frederique.

The hunger whispered its answer:

Power comes from hunger. From Glamour.

Yes. She needed Glamour. But not just to feed.

To learn.

She let her senses expand, reaching for something...more.

Not just sight or sound, but deeper... into the pulse of the space around her. It was subtle, like a whisper beneath the skin of the world.

The wood beneath her bare feet felt old. Not just aged but remembered. The bedframe held something... faint memories of the hands that had shaped it. The window, cool against the night air, seemed to hum softly as it tasted the outside world.

It's alive...

Frideria stretched out her hand.

She did not speak aloud but let her will extend, pressing gently into the wood of the bedframe.

Willow Whisper.

The words came to her, not spoken but felt, rising from the depths of something ancient inside.

And the bed answered.

Not in words, but in impressions.

Old. Rooted. Cut. Remembered.

Her ruby eyes widened.

She could hear it.

Frideria's fingers brushed the surface again, more deliberate this time.

' Show me. '

A flicker of something...not quite a voice, but a sensation. The memory of sawdust. The press of tools. The hands of a craftsman long gone.

It remembered.

She pulled back, heart pounding... or it would have, had she the need for a heart at all.

' This...this is mine. '

Not the biting hunger. Not the raw strength of her jaws.

This.

Magic.

Power rooted in something older than flesh.

Her Art.

Primal.

The name whispered to her from the depths of her mind, ancient and powerful.

But it was not enough.

She turned, reaching for the window next. Cold glass under her fingertips.

' Tell me. '

It was harder this time, the object less...alive.

Thin. Watchful. Fragile.

Not sentient. Not crafted with care, but functional. It remembered starlight and frost more than hands.

Her control wavered as the hunger surged in protest, the Glamour draining faster than she expected.

She could feel it.

The energy of the emotions she fed on... faint, almost gone.

' So this is the price. '

Frideria frowned, pulling back. The strain was bearable, but the ache it left behind reminded her of the hunger, twisting deeper in her core.

The Corp had spoken of this. Arts drained Glamour... the raw fuel of her power. Without it, she was weaker.

' To use magic, I must feed. '

Her gaze flicked toward the door.

Lira had mentioned a market. A place where Glamour could be bought and consumed. Food rich with pure emotion, distilled from dreams.

Frideria's lips curled. She could go now.

But something...held her back.

A whisper. Distant.

Frederique.

Even asleep, she was there, somewhere deep beneath Frideria's presence, fragile and unaware.

Trusting.

' She is still adjusting,' Frideria thought, clenching her jaw.

' She...trusts me. '

The hunger demanded more, but Frideria shoved it down. No. Tonight, she would not hunt.

Tonight was for understanding.

She lowered herself back onto the bed, ruby eyes wide open, unblinking as she lay in the silence. Fey did not sleep. They were born from dreams... crafted from the raw essence of imagination.

But Frideria did not yet fully belong to that world.

She remained somewhere between.

And as the hunger coiled deeper inside her, she continued practicing, whispering to the world around her, determined to master her Art.

Tomorrow, both she and Frederique would be stronger.