Chapter 16: Scorched Trust

The vessel stared, his crooked grin faltering. "Not exactly?" he echoed. "You dare play coy with me, relic?"

Moira said nothing. Her arm lowered slowly, the light fading from her palm. The golden shimmer of wings dissolved behind her, drifting like embers. Kitana rose behind her, breath catching. Her body still trembled from the near-death moment—yet all she could focus on was Moira. The veil that had always made her feel distant now seemed like a shroud barely containing something vast. Ancient.

How much do you actually know? Kitana thought. How much are you hiding from us?

The vessel tilted his head, expression unreadable. "A broken angel. A half-demon. And a liar with a sword."

He spat to the side. "Esantea has fallen far."

Lucian's blade was already moving. "Then we'll drag it back from the pit—starting with you."

The clash resumed. But it wasn't the same. The vessel fought harder. Faster. Moira's brief revelation had shaken him—and now he struck with purpose, fury driving each blow. He wanted her dead first.

Lucian met him with unrelenting fire, sparks trailing every swing, but the vessel now fought with cruel precision. Every movement was meant to separate, to isolate. Kitana charged again, ignoring the throb in her ribs. Her blade carved a path toward the fight.

But the vessel spun—and was behind her. She barely twisted in time. His claws raked across her shoulder instead of her throat. Pain bloomed. She struck back, but he was already gone.

"Kitana!" Lucian shouted, hurling a bolt of blue flame. It collided with the vessel midair, blasting him back—but not far enough.

Moira moved again.

This time, she didn't raise her hand.

She stepped between the vessel and Kitana and simply looked at him. The heat around her stilled. Shadows twisted uneasily. The air pulsed like it remembered something older than the demon before them.

The vessel hesitated.

Just for a second.

Then he snarled, voice breaking into distortion. "You think your time hasn't passed, Traitor of the Skies? You fell. You were cast down. You don't belong here anymore!"

Moira's voice was nearly a whisper, it wasn't hers but someone else's "Neither do you."

The shadows struck—dozens of them, spearing forward like lances. Lucian threw his body forward, fire shielding Kitana.

And Moira—did nothing.

The shadows shattered before touching her. As if the cavern itself refused to strike her.

The vessel roared. "I'll rip you open and see if your light still bleeds!"

He lunged. Kitana threw herself forward, blade aimed for his spine. But again—he vanished.

Not vanished—shifted.

He reappeared ten feet away, standing atop a cracked obsidian pillar rising from the stone.

"This is taking too long," he said, panting now. The fire in his skin flickered. "You're not worth the effort."

Lucian raised his sword. "Running already?"

"No." The vessel smiled darkly. "I've done what I needed."

Moira stepped forward. "What do you mean?"

The vessel didn't answer ,instead, he lunged straight at Kitana. She barely had time to react. One heartbeat she was standing, weapon raised—the next, he was in her face, claws glinting. Something snapped , not bone. Not flesh. Something deeper.

Her vision tunneled. The air rippled around her skin, and for a heartbeat, her soul screamed—then silenced.

Her blade surged with power not her own. Her hand moved without thought. Her eyes burned red. Steel met flesh. The vessel's chest split open in a line of searing light.

Time slowed.

He staggered back, claws trembling. A smile—bloody, crooked—twisted across his face. "Well done," he rasped.

Then he laughed. Choking, spitting, collapsing—and still laughing.

"I am the weakest," he croaked, blood bubbling from his lips. "The easiest…"

He fell to his knees, staring at Kitana even as life drained from his body. "You'll die," he whispered. "You'll die… You'll die… You'll die…" Again and again, like a curse, like a prophecy, like a song no one wants to hear.

Then silence.

Kitana stood over him, breath ragged. Her blade dripped dark blood. Her eyes still glowed. Horns curled faintly above her brow. Her skin—her skin—was cracking with ember-veins.

And I didn't feel anything. No fear. No remorse. Just… cold.

"Kitana," Moira's voice cut through the stillness.

She didn't move.

"Kitana," Moira said again, stepping forward.

Her hand touched Kitana's shoulder. The world rushed back in. Her knees buckled. The light in her eyes sputtered. She gasped like she'd been underwater. The horns vanished. The ember-veins faded. Kitana fell to one knee, staring at her bloodied hands.

"I didn't mean to," she whispered.

Moira knelt beside her, gaze unreadable. "I know."

Lucian approached slowly, sword still raised, eyes lingering on the vessel's broken body. "He was the weakest," he muttered. "Gods help us."

Kitana didn't answer. Her hands wouldn't stop shaking.

Kitana stared down at her hands again ,the faint shimmer of scales lingered on her forearms. Her nails still had that sharp edge. Her skin carried the faint, flickering warmth of hellfire just beneath. Half-demon. Still. Always. She turned away from the vessel's corpse, trying to breathe past the dread curling in her gut.

Lucian approached her slowly, his blade now lowered, his eyes softer than she'd seen before. No mockery. Nothing. Just concern—and something else. Something quieter. "You did what you had to," he said, voice low. "You saved us."

Kitana shook her head, voice barely above a whisper. "I lost control again."

"You didn't," he said, stepping closer. "You chose. That's the difference."

Their eyes met. He stopped just in front of her, close enough to feel his warmth, to see the faint bruises on his jaw, his deep green eyes the flicker of admiration hidden in his gaze.

"You know what to do now," he said, his voice a hush meant only for her. She hesitated, then nodded slowly. Turning back to the vessel's corpse, she knelt beside it. Her hand hovered above his chest, and for a moment, she felt it—that last lingering ember of demonic life, flickering like a dying star.

She reached out. Power surged through her fingertips, like coals drawn to breath. The vessel's essence—the remnant of his infernal strength—poured into her.

It was painful. It was ecstasy. It was fire and hunger and despair—and then it was gone.

Kitana gasped. The red in her eyes faded. Her skin cooled. The creeping demonic marks receded. Her body stilled, finally hers again.

Lucian dropped to his knees beside her and, without a word, wrapped his arms around her "You…" his voice cracked, just a little. "I thought you would've died when he came for you."

Kitana stiffened—then slowly, hesitantly, placed her arms around him. She closed her eyes, her voice soft against his ear. "I'm glad you're alright too."

They held each other in silence, the chaos of battle still crackling faintly in the cavern air. And when they pulled back—just enough—their eyes locked. Lucian's hand lingered at her waist. Kitana's fingers brushed against his shoulder. The space between them was electric. His gaze dropped to her lips.

She didn't move.

Then—

"Ahem."

Moira's voice cut through, calm but direct. "Should we… look for anything here?"

Kitana blinked, breath catching, stepping back slightly from Lucian. He did the same, though slower, jaw tight. Lucian stood. "No need. We got what we came for," he said annoyed, while not taking his eyes off Kitana. "One vessel down. Now we go back to the guild—find the next."

But Kitana turned to Moira, brow furrowed. "Back up," she said. "What was that? Back there. You—you stopped the shadows. You made the whole cavern hesitate. Since when do you have that kind of control?"

Moira's expression faltered, just slightly. "It wasn't important."

"It was terrifying," Kitana snapped. "And that voice… That wasn't you. Who was it?"

Moira looked away, lips tight.

"Moira."

"I said it doesn't matter," Moira hissed—hissed—and for the first time, the her voice carried anger. "You want to question me, Kitana? Fine. Then maybe you should start questioning Lucian, that demon called the liar ."

The air turned colder. Kitana stiffened. Lucian said nothing. Moira's eyes glittered with a strange light. "How long are you going to pretend you didn't hear it? He called him a liar. A demon. Are we seriously going to ignore that? Scratch that are we going to ignore everything"

Kitana took a half-step away from Lucian. Her breath caught. She looked at him—really looked—and saw the way he flinched under the accusation, how he didn't deny it.

She stepped back from him. "What is she talking about?" Her voice cracked. "Are we seriously going to trust a demon? Since when?"

Lucian didn't answer. Kitana turned to Moira again. Her voice softened, almost pleading. "…Lucian can be trusted."

Barely a whisper. Moira looked away. Didn't argue. Didn't agree.

Lucian's mouth twitched—not quite a smile, not quite pain. "Since when," he murmured, "do we take a demon's word as truth?"

No one spoke. The silence hung, thick and splintering, until Kitana finally looked up "We should go," she said quietly. "Back to the guild. We need answers. Real ones."

Lucian nodded. Moira turned away and the three of them stepped out of the broken ruin—together in step, but further apart than ever.