Prologue X: Crimson Permission

We tore through the trees, feet pounding against dirt. The forest hadn't burned here yet. No fire. No ash. It was quieter—but that kind of quiet that didn't last. That watched.

We ran harder. My lungs burned. Naial kept pace, clutching me like I was her last anchor.

Then I felt it.

The cold.

It hit like a wave. My body instinctively skidded to a stop. I yanked Naial behind me.

Two figures stood ahead—blocking the only path to the village exit.

They weren't like Uncle Ren. Not beasts. But there was something worse about them.

The first one was tall and bulky, his frame swaying with every step like he was walking through a carnival. His mask didn't hide the way his head tilted too much, how his tone oozed something foul, like syrup rotting in the sun.

He was smiling. I couldn't see it, but I knew. I felt it.

"Look what we have here," he said, voice dripping with a twisted kind of cheer, like he was talking to a pair of lost kittens. He stepped closer with slow, deliberate ease. "You think they might be the girls boss told us to keep an eye out for?"

Beside him stood the second one. Still. Quiet. His stance was rigid, straight. No swagger. No grin. Just a statue of calm precision.

He shrugged slightly. His voice came out low, raspy, and flat. "Maybe. But since he didn't care to tell us who exactly we're looking for… we just have to capture them anyway."

I took a step back. Naial gripped my hand with a force that nearly crushed bone.

"You heard that, girls," the first one said again, his tone turning sing-songy, high-pitched, like a teacher coaxing a child. "Why don't you come closer? So we can have a good time."

The words were sweet. Too sweet. Rotten-sweet. They left a film on the air that made my stomach roll.

"So what's it going to be?" the quiet one asked from behind him. His voice didn't rise. Didn't waver. He wasn't excited. Just waiting. Watching. Dead calm. "We can do this the easy way or—"

I didn't let him finish.

I turned and bolted in the opposite direction, dragging Naial with me. I didn't care how far they were. I didn't care what they had planned. I would rather be caught running.

"The hard way it is, then," I heard behind me—

Right before I slammed face-first into something solid.

Naial and I stumbled back. She rubbed her head, and I clutched mine, dazed.

I reached forward—but my hand stopped.

Something invisible was blocking the path. My palm pressed against it—smooth, cold, unmoving.

A barrier.

Like Mother's.

Only this one felt wrong.

I shoved Naial behind me as the two men approached, closing in like predators.

My chest tightened. My breath shook. I could feel the weight in my core again—that cold, pulsing through my spine.

I reached deep. Gripped the thread inside me.

And whispered—

"Manifest."

Lavender light bloomed from my hand, jagged and flickering. The sigil coiled around my palm like a serpent set on fire—unstable, hot, and trembling with weight. It twisted and sparked, then stretched outward, solidifying into something long and sharp. A sword? A baton? I couldn't tell.

All I knew was—it wasn't a stick.

And it was humming in my grip like it was alive.

"Ohhh," the first man crooned. "Look at that… the girls want to play."

He grinned as his fingers drifted toward the dagger on his belt, slow and salivating. "Why don't we indulge them, huh Krevyr?"

"Keep your damn urges in check, Allen," the other one said—Krevyr, quiet and cold like ice cracking underfoot. "We're here to capture them. Not play games."

Allen let out an annoyed groan. "You always know how to kill the mood." He muttered something under his breath and chuckled like it was funny only to him. "You act like I was gonna hurt her... yet."

"You were"

"Fine I was"

My stomach churned so hard I thought I'd throw up. My chest twisted and burned. Gods, they were disgusting.

I gripped the construct tighter. It buzzed in my hand like it wanted to be used. Like it was asking me why I hadn't already swung it. Naial clung to the hem of my dress, her small fingers curling tighter with each step the men took toward us.

Allen's smile widened into something worse than a threat. "Come here, you—"

He lunged.

I gasped, heart slamming against my ribs, and shoved Naial aside. Then the world flipped.

I couldn't dodge in time.

His weight hit like a cannonball.

My back slammed into a tree, and the air was ripped straight from my lungs. Gone. Just like that.

Pain exploded across my spine. I slid to the ground in a heap, gasping, and eyes wide with static.

Allen laughed behind me. That high, giddy, childish laugh that didn't fit his frame or his face.

Footsteps crunched closer. Leaves cracking. His boots thudding against the earth.

I pushed myself up, groaning. The world spun, but I got upright. Barely.

And there he was. Already in front of me.

Allen stood tall, shadowed by the moonlight through the canopy.

I was wrong before. I'd said they looked nothing like Uncle Ren.

They were nothing like Uncle Ren.

But it didn't matter.

Because I was still small. And he was still towering.

Allen crouched down slowly, meeting my eyes like a man examining a wounded pet.

I couldn't move.

Maybe it was the pain. Maybe it was magic.

Maybe it was him.

"Alright, kid," he said, voice syrup-thick and disgusting. "Tell you what... I'll be generous."

He smiled wider.

"You get the first hit."

He tapped his chin twice with two fingers and tilted his head like he was offering candy. "Go on. Use that shiny little thing in your hand. Isn't that what it's for?"

His voice—it wasn't angry.

It wasn't mocking.

It was sweet.

Too sweet.

I hated it.

I wanted to rip that expression off his face. Right now. I could. I could.

He was right there. His throat was open. My weapon was glowing, alive.

I could do it.

I should do it.

But my body didn't move.

Not one finger twitched. Not one muscle shifted.

Allen leaned in just a little more. "What's wrong?" he whispered. "Stage fright?"

I felt his breath on my skin. I gritted my teeth. Still nothing.

"Come on, kid." He pointed again, slow and exaggerated. "It's right here. Right on the chin. You want to be a hero, don't you?"

At the edge of my vision, I could see Naial.

Still lying in the grass.

Still watching.

Her eyes were wide. Frozen. Her lips trembling with the scream she hadn't let out yet.

She was seeing everything.

And I—

I still couldn't move.

"Stop your theatrics and just grab her," Krevyr muttered.

"You never let me play, do you?" Allen retorted.

"Just get her."

Allen smiled as he stood to his full height. My hands trembled as I held the construct tighter. I had been scared countless times in my life, but the feeling brewing in my chest now—it was worse than the cold that had stalked me through the night.

"Sorry, kid. I'll make it up to you," Allen said, raising his hand high. I could only watch. My body still refused to move. He smirked at the effect he was having on me. "In bed."

His hand came swinging down.

Move, move, MOVE, for gods' sake, Kaya—move!

I didn't. My feet stayed glued to the floor. Sweat streamed down my temples, and my hands grew slippery as I struggled to keep hold of the construct.

What would be the point? You won't swing it either way.

It was the truth. It felt like the whole world had slowed down as Allen's hand dropped toward the crown of my head. I closed my eyes, accepting it, resigning myself to fate. Uncle Ren wasn't coming. Mother wasn't coming. No one was.

I waited. And waited. Moments stretched. Nothing happened.

Was I dreaming? Did I black out?

I still felt conscious, so he didn't—

I cracked one eye open.

Allen was clutching his head. Blood, crimson and vivid, sparkled under the moonlight. His hand trembled as he looked at it. I looked, too. So did Krevyr. The veins in Allen's forehead bulged, his face twisting between confusion and rage.

Then a stone hit him again. It bounced harmlessly off his shoulder, but he flinched at the sheer audacity.

"Stay away from big sis!" a tiny voice echoed through the forest.

Behind Allen, standing on two scratched and shaking legs, holding another stone in her trembling hand was Naial. Her face—blank, angry—was the angriest I'd ever seen her.

Krevyr tilted his head, his voice flat and calm. "Well, would you look at that? Looks like you forgot the little one."

Allen growled deep in his throat. "Tch. I didn't forget," he snarled. "I was saving her."

Then he locked eyes with Naial, his face stretching into something cruel. "I'm gonna carve your name into your sister's ribs so she never forgets you."

He lunged.

Leaves scattered under his boots. Naial didn't run. She dropped her arm and threw the rock—it bounced off him like it was nothing. Allen reached out a hand toward her—

I didn't even know when my own hand moved.

Manifest.

BANG.

His hand collided with a burst of lavender light. The construct snapped into existence around Naial like a shield, illuminating the forest as it enclosed her.

Allen growled, swearing under his breath, and turned toward me.

My hand glowed. Sigils danced around my palm.

Wait—I did that? I blinked, stunned. I hadn't even chanted. So how did I—

"Oh, so now you have the guts to attack?" Allen barked, snapping me out of it.

I stumbled back, but I could move now. My limbs obeyed. I stretched my hands and nearly yelped in shock.

The construct pulsed in my grip. I straightened my posture, raised it high, and smirked. "Yeah. That was after you tried to hurt Naial."

Krevyr sighed, shaking his head slightly. "And here I was thinking this wouldn't take long," he said with that same eerie calm.

If I'd learned one thing tonight—

"I'm gonna make you eat those words, you little brat!" Allen growled, lunging at me.

—it's that big, bad bandits lower their guard against little ol' me.

I straightened and charged straight at him. Allen's grin only widened, like a wolf hungry for the snap of bones. Naial screamed my name behind me, but I didn't stop. I couldn't stop.

I'd only done this once before. I was bedridden for days—maybe weeks. I couldn't remember much afterward. Mother had warned me never to try it without guidance.

She was right.

But I only needed one shot. I could deal with Krevyr later.

We closed the gap. Allen lashed out with his hand. I veered right just enough—his fingers grazed my cheek. Then I struck.

My palm slammed against his chest.

Magic roared through my arm like a crashing wave. I twisted, pouring it into him, deeper—deeper—until I reached something raw.

Light exploded from Allen's body. I jumped back to Naial's barrier, heart pounding.

Allen staggered, coughing violently. "Wh-what… d-did you d-do to me?!"

Then he dropped.

The light faded.

"HAH!" I laughed, breathless, half-crazed, before my legs gave out beneath me. I coughed violently, and the ground slammed into my face—or maybe I slammed into it. My head spun, my whole body screaming. This hurt more than the soul-touching. I couldn't even feel the construct in my hand. It must've vanished when my magic drained.

And the barrier surrounding Naial?

It was flickering, too.

 "Big sis are you still there" I hear Naial's voice echo through, oh so am still alive as I barely sit myself up, Naial clutching the helm of my dress which had no hope of ever turning white again

"A soul technique," a calm voice boomed behind us.

I turned slowly, my neck stiff like it had forgotten how to move. Krevyr crouched beside Allen's collapsed form, two fingers pressed lazily to the man's throat, checking for a pulse.

So... I didn't kill him.

Good. I didn't have that kind of magic. Not yet.

"A technique designed specifically to immobilize your opponent," Krevyr continued, rising to his feet with terrifying grace. He took one step, then another—his movements slow, deliberate, like he wasn't just approaching us... he was claiming us. "At least now I know which one of you he wants."

I tried to stand. My legs twitched, but the rest of me stayed down. My body screamed at me to stop. Every nerve was fried. Every muscle was a torn string. I'd reached—maybe even passed—my limit.

Krevyr knelt beside me and Naial, his presence suffocating. His eyes—cold, ocean-deep blue—peered through the slits in his mask. Despite everything, he didn't look much older than his early twenties. Slimmer than I expected, but still carrying that quiet, composed strength that screamed danger. Everything about him was sharp, clean, surgical.

"A little girl like you shouldn't be able to perform a technique that advanced," he said voice unreadable.

"Well, that's because I'm special, you jerk," I hissed, my breath ragged. My voice cracked under the weight of exhaustion. "Come closer and I'll do it again."

He stared at me like I was an insect pretending to roar. That unimpressed look. The one adults give you when they know you're bluffing. Then his hand rose—slowly—towards me.

I didn't even have time to blink before a stone whipped through the air.

He caught it cleanly between his palms. Effortless.

His gaze flicked past me.

"Next is your head," Naial barked, her voice small but defiant.

She stood on trembling legs, another stone clenched in her scraped-up fingers. Her face was smeared with dirt and tears, but her expression—gods—her expression was fierce. Pure blank rage.

Krevyr sighed, sounding more annoyed than concerned. His fingers crushed the stone to powder with a lazy clench, the dust falling like ash through his hands.

"Go hit another adult, brat," he muttered.

His hand flicked out.

Naial screamed as an invisible force slammed into her, launching her backward like a leaf in the wind. She tumbled over roots and fallen branches before vanishing into the underbrush.

My heart nearly stopped.

"NAI!" I screamed and lunged forward—but then something clamped around my neck and dragged me back.

Krevyr's grip.

I choked. I kicked. I thrashed. Nothing worked.

I was a ragdoll in his grasp.

That grip was inhuman—unyielding. The second person tonight with hands like iron.

So I did the only thing that made sense. I sank my teeth into him.

I bit down hard. Flesh gave way. Blood filled my mouth—warm, coppery, disgusting.

Still, he didn't flinch.

"You're quite the little beast, aren't you?" he said, completely unfazed, as crimson trickled down his arm. "Resilient for a child."

He grabbed my collar with his other hand and hoisted me into the air like I weighed nothing. Maybe to him, I didn't.

I kicked. Punched. Nothing landed clean. Nothing moved him.

His blood dripped onto the forest floor, thick drops painting leaves in scarlet.

"For someone so small," he said, eyes flickering with something like recognition—before going dead again, "you've got a hell of a bite."

I kept struggling, but it was useless.

His gaze shifted toward Naial's direction. She was curled on the ground, sobbing, clutching her arm.

And just like that, he dropped me.

But his other hand stayed on my shoulder—anchoring me there.

He raised his right hand, palm glowing with a dull pulse. The air around us changed. Denser. Charged.

Then Naial began to float.

Her body lifted off the ground like a puppet on invisible strings, limp and crying.

"No... no no no, please don't," I whispered, eyes wide.

"Maybe if I kill her," he said flatly, eyes never even blinking, "you'll stop struggling."

Naial floated higher, twisting slightly in the air. She sobbed, terrified, arms hanging down.

"Big sis..." she choked. "Help me..."

I pulled and clawed against Krevyr's grip, but it was like wrestling a mountain.

His fingers curled slowly.

The magic tightened.

Then I heard it—

Crack.

Naial screamed. Her bones—gods—they were breaking. Inside her. She cried louder, twisting in agony.

"STOP! YOU'RE HURTING HER!" I screamed my voice raw with fury and panic.

"Well... that's the point," he said casually.

I begged him. Screamed. Cursed. Nothing.

"Please don't," I whispered to the gods, to anyone, to anything.

He didn't stop.

Then—thud.

Naial hit the ground, wheezing in pain, barely conscious but alive.

I crawled to her, my arms moving like they were underwater. I reached her trembling body and pulled her into my arms, shielding her the best I could.

Then I noticed something.

Krevyr had let me go.

Why?

Something glinted in the dirt nearby. A blade.

It was buried halfway into the soil—and dripping with blood.

I looked up.

Krevyr was staring at the stump where his hand used to be. Blood gushed from the wound in rhythmic, unbothered pulses. He looked at it like he was checking a broken clock.

"I was afraid she would show," he muttered.

She??

A sudden whistle split the air.

Krevyr tilted his head.

An arrow sliced past his cheek, scraping away part of his mask before embedding deep into a tree behind him.

The tip glimmered with a familiar signature.

That was Mother's.

Before I could even process it, a familiar wave of magic smashed into Krevyr, sending him skidding across the clearing. He hit the dirt hard but rolled back onto his knees, grabbing his severed hand like it was a trinket, not a limb.

Then arms—warm, powerful—wrapped around me and Naial.

I didn't need to look. I knew that warmth.

"MOTHER!!!" Naial and I cried out together, voices tangled in relief.

"My children," she breathed, hugging us so tightly I thought we'd both vanish in her arms.

She was real. Alive. Here.

But—

She was covered in blood.

I pulled back. Her entire body was soaked in crimson. Her tunic. Her hair. Even her eyes glistened with red stains; the scary part was it wasn't her's

Naial didn't notice at first. But when she did, her breath caught. Her little fingers clenched tighter around me.

"She's okay," I whispered, like saying it out loud would make it true.

Then—

"Amara Ashworth," Krevyr said.

His voice was distant, but it sliced through the silence.

We turned.

He stood behind Mother, holding his severed hand, blood still trickling down his arm like paint across canvas.

Mother muttered something under her breath, too low for me to catch.

Krevyr's eyes looked hollow as he gazed at us, blood still trickling from his severed wrist in steady, deliberate drops. It wasn't rage behind his stare—just exhaustion. Like he didn't want to be here but had no choice. He tightened the grip on his wound and sighed, the sound more like a disappointed mentor than a soldier. "It's safe to assume Ryke failed to kill you," he said, his voice calm as he shifted his stance. It wasn't defensive, but it left no gaps either. Balanced. Watchful.

My head throbbed again—worse than before. The forest spun. Night had swallowed the trees, and the faint glow of embers flickered against the black. This part of the woods used to be warm, familiar. Naial and I played here often, chasing each other through the underbrush, pretending every moss-covered stump was a fortress. That same ground was now soaked in ash and blood.

Mother moved—not much, just a subtle shift in her legs and shoulders. Her body flowed into stillness, loose but ready. She was a blade waiting to sing. "You assumed right, lowlife," she said, grabbing a bloodstained dagger from a tree. Her hand came away drenched in red. "I knew boss made a mistake sending that ruffian," Krevyr muttered. "You don't look bothered," Mother said. He let out a low chuckle, unbothered. "Bothered? Not really. Ryke always flinched before the kill. I expected him to fail. He was useful in bulk work, not for precision."

He raised his severed wrist to the stump. Light surged from his palm. Steam hissed violently as flesh twisted and reformed. In seconds, his hand was whole again. He flexed his fingers—no hesitation, no pain. "We really don't have to fight," he said smoothly, reaching for his sword. "You can walk out of here alive, and we'll leave your village in peace. All you have to do is give us your daught—"

He didn't finish.

Mother vanished in an instant. The air screamed with metal. A deafening clang ripped through the trees. I blinked. Confusion swelled. One moment she stood still. The next—she was clashing blades with Krevyr. "Nice reaction," she muttered under her breath, twisting into a retreat and striking again, harder. Krevyr sidestepped. They clashed again, steel grinding, spark briefly lighting the forest. The light faded as quickly as it came.

Mother struck with relentless speed. Krevyr parried, calm, always composed. Then he caught her wrist mid-swing, twisted it sharply, and slammed his boot into her stomach. She tumbled backward, crashing across the dirt, kicking up dust as she rolled.

 "MOTHER!" I screamed again.

 She groaned, coughing into her hand before pushing herself upright. Her fingers clenched around her midsection, her breathing ragged—but then her lips twitched into a smile. My eyes widened. Naial too.

Even Krevyr narrowed his eyes. "I don't see how you find your predicament funny," he said, a faint high-pitched irritation threading his voice. Oh gods, she was making him snap.

"Let's try that again, shall we?" she said softly, dagger reversing in her grip, blade low and back-curved now. A stance I'd never seen before. Krevyr didn't respond. He dropped into his own low stance, eyes narrowed, and lunged. He flipped his sword upright and surged forward. Mother didn't lunge back. She didn't move at all. Leaves and dust exploded around him as he advanced. And then—a wave hit me. Not of sound or light, but silence. A weight. I shivered. "You have no permission to move," Mother whispered.

Krevyr froze.

His body locked mid-swing. The blade hovered microns from her face. Her head tilted as she stepped aside. Calm. Effortless. Then she raised her leg and—crack. Her heel smashed into his ribs. Krevyr flew, tumbling sideways until he slammed into a tree. Leaves fell in a slow rain around him. He grunted, coughed, dragged himself upright, then wiped blood from his lip with the back of his hand. "Sovereign Tongue," he muttered. "That explains why Ryke failed."

Mother didn't wait. She twisted her blade and lunged again, clashing steel with him mid-motion. Behind me, Naial whimpered. I turned away, holding her. Her body trembled under my touch. I tapped her forehead gently and let my magic flow. Lavender light glowed between my fingers. She flinched, then slowly calmed. Her injuries were too deep for full healing, but I could at least dull the pain. "You're okay," I whispered. "You're okay."

Mother and Krevyr tore through the woods, blades ringing. I only caught flashes through the trees. He flicked his hand. A rock flew. Mother ducked just in time, flipping backwards, smirking. He dove. She sidestepped fluid, planting her foot and pointing her dagger at him.

"You have no permission to stand," she said.

Krevyr dropped again—knees hitting the dirt, then elbows. He struggled, jaw clenched, trying to rise but failing. Mother flipped the dagger in her grip and darted forward. She was moments from striking him down.

That's when I saw it.

His sword. Spinning. Fast. Hurtling toward us.

The world slowed.

I couldn't move. I couldn't shield Naial. I couldn't even scream. My magic wouldn't answer me.

The blade closed in.

Then, warm arms wrapped around me. A heartbeat later, a wet, heavy sound split the night.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Blood. On leaves. I blinked. The world snapped back.

I was in her arms.

"It's okay, my little star," Mother whispered, her voice pained and cold. "Mama's here."

I slipped from her grip, slow and shaking. Her eyes were dark. Her skin pale. But her smile—still that same, small, knowing curl. I looked down. No...

Naial's voice didn't even reach me as the worst thought crossed my mind.

She didn't—

Couldn't—

Then I saw it.

The sword. Krevyr's sword. Lodged deep into her back. The hilt trembled from the impact.

"No..." I breathed.

Mother coughed violently, blood spraying across the forest floor. She wheezed, hand still stroking my head.

"I really didn't want to do this, Huntress," Krevyr said, his voice flat, tired. Sweat dripped down his temples. "Especially not in front of them."

"Oh shut the fuck up," Mother snapped, blood on her teeth. "I don't need your pity."

"This could've been avoided. If you had just complied."

My rage surged.

I stood. Magic flared into a solid construct in my hand. A blade of soul-light formed. I screamed.

"YOU MONSTER!"

I barely got two steps.

Then my body seized. Every limb froze. I collapsed, hitting the dirt.

"Kaya," Mother whispered, and I turned, dragging myself to her side.

"Mother, please. You'll be okay. We'll get through this."

She gave a weak laugh and turned her head toward me.

"Aren't I the one meant to comfort you, my dear?"

Naial's eyes shimmered with tears as I tried to lift Mother. She didn't budge. She didn't even try.

"I need you to take your sister and leave," she whispered, breathe rasping and shallow. Her bloodied finger trembled as she pointed to the eastern path—dark, empty, and barely visible through the trees. "The exit's not that far."

"I'm not leaving you here, Mother. You have to get up," I said, trying to pull her to her feet. She barely moved, kneeling in the dirt, blood still trickling from her lips. "I can beat him. The big, bad bandit—you and me together—we can get out of this, we can—"

"Kaya," she rasped her voice stern but soft, "I want you to understand."

"Mother, I'm not a child anymore," I snapped. "I can take care of myself, and I can take care of—"

"Kaya Ashworth, don't argue with your mother!" she shouted suddenly, and then coughed, violently, blood splattering from her mouth and onto the earth.

I shook. I really shook. She had never shouted at me before. Not when I broke things. Not when I lashed out at Uncle Ren. Her voice now was something else—raw, desperate, more afraid for me than of anything in the world. Even Krevyr turned his head slightly at her outburst, watching from the corner of his eye, brows drawn in grim interest. He said nothing—but I saw the smallest twitch of discomfort cross his face. Bastard. I hated him. Hated the way he watched, like this was theater.

Naial whimpered quietly beside me, burying her face in my arm.

Clap. Clap. Clap. Clap.

The sound echoed through the forest, rhythmic and mocking. Footsteps followed—many. Dozens. Shapes emerged from the trees. My eyes darted around. Bandits. Twenty, maybe thirty, maybe more. They came dressed in black, like Krevyr, faces shadowed, blades drawn—daggers, axes, swords. No one came unarmed.

The clapping came from a man at the center. He walked into view casually, almost like he belonged here—like we were the trespassers. He looked young. Younger than Allen. Yet everything about him screamed danger. His face was unmasked, unlike the others. He wore the same uniform, a dagger at his waist and a long, curved sword strapped to his side. His presence was silent chaos, like every step he took was calculated death.

He stopped clapping and looked at Mother. She shoved me behind her, dragging herself upright onto shaky legs, blood still dripping from her wounds. Her dagger trembled in her hand, but her stance was still hers—still the Huntress.

"You should be dead," the man said coldly. "But I suppose I shouldn't expect anything less from the Huntress herself."

Mother chuckled weakly, blood bubbling in her throat. "It's going to take more than a few lowlifes to bring me down," she said, nearly collapsing from the effort.

"It doesn't look like it," he replied, his tone dry. He turned to Krevyr. "I didn't think she'd give you this much trouble."

"She's called the Huntress of the Western Isle for a reason, Boss," Krevyr said, rubbing the back of his head like this was all just inconvenient.

Boss. My heart stuttered. That was him. The one Krevyr and Allen spoke of. The leader.

He turned his eyes on us next. "I don't need to state our demands again, do I?"

Mother said nothing.

"Hand over the girl."

"You'll have to kill me first," she muttered, clenching her dagger.

The Boss sighed. "Very well," he said, waving his hand. At his signal, a wave of bandits surged forward toward her.

I widened my eyes, moving instinctively, but—

"You have no permission to move, Kaya!" Mother screamed.

I froze. My legs locked my body numb. Naial and I watched helplessly as she smiled at us, blood still pouring from her mouth, before she twisted away—just in time to dodge a descending blade. The attacker gagged, his throat suddenly spilling blood. He collapsed.

Another came at her. She ducked, punched him hard, then flung him into a group of three. A sword grazed her shoulder. She spun, severed the attacker's head in a single, clean arc. Blood sprayed across the soil. They kept coming.

Some broke from the group, turning toward me and Naial. My breath hitched.

"You have no permission to touch them!" Mother roared, vomiting blood between each word, and kicked a man square in the jaw.

Those coming for us stopped instantly, locked in place, while Mother tore through her attackers like a storm. One slashed her arm; another dug into her back, pressing into the old wound. She let out a scream so loud that birds exploded from the trees above us, the entire forest trembling with her pain.

She staggered. A man twisted the sword still buried in her back. Her scream tore through the night again.

She fell to one knee, then launched forward, dragging the blade from her body with a sickening crunch. Blood streamed behind her. She stabbed the man in the eye, then got kicked again. Another attacker grabbed her by the hair and flung her backward like she weighed nothing.

"This is futile, Huntress," the Boss said. He raised his hand, and the bandits halted.

Mother caught a tree, barely standing. Her dagger hung loose. Blood dripped from her arms, her mouth, her back—too much. She couldn't keep this up.

I couldn't breathe.

She was going to fall.

She was going to—

No. No, no. I snapped myself out of it. I looked at her, swaying on her feet. She couldn't even see clearly anymore. But she stood.

"Give up," the Boss said simply.

Mother laughed—a hollow, bloody sound. "You want her? You think I'll let a creature like you get near my daughters?"

"You're going to die."

"I've died worse deaths than this. You're nothing but a little shadow with a god's delusions."

His eyes narrowed. "You'll break. Eventually."

"I've broken better men than you," she spat, blood seeping between her teeth.

I stared at her—glanced at her battered form, the way she stood in front of us even now. I had no words. Only awe. Despite everything, despite the blood, I still believed she'd win. Somehow, impossibly... she'd triumph.

Her eyes glowed faintly as magic flickered. Red light curled around her arms, coiling like fire. Her steps were slow. Sure.

"Kill her," the Boss commanded.

More bandits ran forward, but Mother just walked. Calmly. Casually. The red glow intensified.

"Massacre all who you please. Slaughter all who you wish," she said aloud. Then, as they closed in, she raised her hands, splitting them wide.

"I give you permission... to kill yourselves."

Her voice split the air.

"Voice Bind: Crimson Choir."

The forest lit red. Magic thundered through the trees. Bandits screamed, clutching their heads. One stabbed the man next to him. Another drove a blade into his own chest. Carnage bloomed. Blood sprayed everywhere—on trees, the grass, Mother's clothes. She walked back toward us, smile trembling, eyes dimming.

She raised her hand weakly. I reached for it. We could go. We could—

She stopped.

The world paused.

A black spear—no, not a spear—a tendril, shadow-born and death-wrought, drove straight through her chest.

Her magic severed.

It pulsed through her heart like a slow heartbeat. The tendril retracted, vanishing into the darkness behind her.

The Boss.

He stood still, shadows returning to his side, and smiled.

Mother crumpled, face-first, collapsing hard in front of us.

"Mother!" I screamed, grabbing her hand. Naial shrieked, clinging to her arm.

"Please—wake up—don't—Mother, please!"

Her bloody hand lifted weakly, caressing my cheek, then Naial's. She tried to smile. Gurgled blood filled her throat. I shook her harder. I didn't care how it looked. I wanted her to move.

She looked at us both, then mouthed a single, fragile word:

Run.

Her hand dropped.

Her body went still.

Her eyes... faded.

"Mother... please... wake up... wake up, wake up..." I chanted over and over. Nothing. No breath. No magic. Just silence.

I looked up. Krevyr stood, watching with a blank stare. Then, slowly, he turned away.

The Boss only smiled, pleased with his work.

Those monsters.

I wanted to tear them apart. My magic flared, red-hot and burning. A dagger formed in my hand, and for a moment, I thought—

No.

She said run.

Not fight.

Run.

I collapsed forward, sobbing. Then I grabbed Naial's hand and ran.

I didn't look back.

I couldn't.

Because if I did... I wouldn't stop.

We tore through the trees, the forest dimming as the red magic faded behind us. The eastern path widened until a large wooden gate came into view. Just past it, the world opened into a vast, moonlit clearing above the cliffs—the edge of the Western Isle.

We reached it. I turned, panting. Naial clung to me.

"Big sis..." she sobbed.

I knelt in front of her, wiping her tears, trying to smile. "Nai... I need you to listen to me very carefully," I said, my voice barely holding together. "Once you pass this gate, keep running. Don't stop. Not until you see people. Not until you're safe."

"No! Big sis—we're going together—" she cried.

"Please, Naial," I whispered. "Mother would want you to live. I'll meet you. I promise."

She shook her head violently. "But Mother—she'd want us to stay together—"

"Mother won't want that," I snapped. "Because she's dead, Naial!"

I regretted it immediately. Her tears flowed faster. My heart broke. I had no right to say that.

I knelt lower and pulled her into a hug. "Don't cry, Nai. I didn't mean it. I didn't mean it..."

Her warmth clung to me.

Memories flooded—our souls intertwining in every childhood memory. Her laugh, her little hand in mine, the way she hid behind me during thunderstorms. Every heartbeat echoed louder.

I pulled back and looked her in the eyes.

"I will find you, Nai," I said. "I'll look for you. And I will find you."

She nodded, trembling. Then she raised her pinky.

"Promise?" she whispered.

I linked mine with hers.

"Promise."

She nodded at me, her face still streaked with tears, and turned toward the path. For a moment, I thought she'd ignore me—turn around, argue again—but instead, she ran back and threw her arms around me. Her little frame shook with sobs as I held her tight. I buried my nose in her hair, memorizing her scent, her warmth. One last time.

Then she pulled away, slowly stepping back, her tiny hands letting go of mine. She turned and crossed the gate, her legs pumping fast as she disappeared across the moonlit expanse of the field beyond.

I wiped my face roughly, blinked the tears away, and turned toward the forest—toward what came next.

The cold settled into my bones like a second skin.

From the shadowed dark of the trees, four figures stepped out.

Krevyr walked lazily, flicking dirt off his already stained coat—probably still nursing bruises from the beating Mother gave him. Beside him, the Boss walked with that same arrogant stride, flanked by two masked bandits, silent and alert. The moment felt like a ritual. I was the offering.

I dropped to my knees, slammed my palm against the earth, and let the red light of my magic pulse deep into the soil. The ground trembled beneath me.

"Servants of the land, obey my will," I whispered.

"Manifest."

Cracks burst from beneath me. The forest shook. The ground rose, spreading wide and high, forming a massive stone barrier behind me—completely sealing the exit. A wall. A grave. A protection for Naial.

I stood, facing them.

The Boss clapped slowly, amused. "Would you look at that," he said. "Quite a talent you've got, little girl."

My stomach turned.

"We could do so many wonderful things with that power," he added, pulling out his hand like he wanted a handshake. "Well? Do you accept?"

Magic surged from my shoulder to my arm, forming a sword of blazing red light. I didn't hesitate.

"Go to hell," I screamed, and charged.

The two bandits moved first, their weapons flashing. I veered left, ducked, and sliced down. My blade carved through the first man's wrist cleanly. He screamed, blood spraying like a fountain onto my dress. I twisted and slashed again—this time across his throat. He gurgled once, and then fell twitching to the ground.

The second man rushed me, yelling. We clashed—blade to blade. He struck again and again. I parried, ducked, then spun around his back and drove my sword into his chest. He gasped, grabbing my shoulder weakly before I ripped the blade out. Blood spattered my arms and neck as he dropped beside me.

I screamed, wild and furious, pointing the sword at the Boss.

"You..." I growled, both hands gripping my construct. "I'm going to tear you apart!"

Krevyr stayed where he was—silent, unmoving.

Coward.

I lunged again, my magic flaring hotter, the blade aiming for the Boss's throat. Just as I swung, something struck my sword—hard.

A metallic clang echoed as a shadowy tentacle wrapped around my construct.

"You're skilled. For a kid," the Boss said coolly.

I twisted, trying to free myself.

"But very foolish."

The tendril coiled, and then yanked me clean off my feet. I slammed hard into the wall I had just created. My construct shattered on impact, vanishing into red dust. Pain roared through my spine.

Before I could move, more tendrils wrapped around my wrists—cold, slithering, cruel. Another pair snatched my ankles. I screamed as my arms were pulled wide, my body stretched like a puppet. Bones popped. Every inch of me screamed.

"What about the other one?" Krevyr asked, his voice now dull, echoing through the haze clouding my mind. "She might go warn the Tribunal."

The Boss chuckled, a sound that made my skin crawl.

"We have what we came for. She's useless to us."

I thrashed harder, snarling, but the shadows squeezed tighter. I screamed again—pain and fury and helplessness twisted into one.

Something cold brushed my face. Fingers. The Boss leaned close, studying me like I was a curious relic. He turned my face from side to side, and then smiled.

"You'll make a fine slave," he whispered.

Then came the pain.

A strike—his fist—landed in my stomach. My breath caught. My whole body convulsed. My vision blurred.

My head dropped.

And everything went quiet.

No sound.

No light.

No warmth.

My magic flickered—then dimmed completely, like a candle snuffed out.

Then... nothing.Just black.