"You're worthless…"

"You're nothing but a waste of air in this family."

"You should just die."

"You can't feel love, you psychopath."

"I should have never given birth to you…"

Those voices returned with the clarity of ice water poured over my skull, a shock so sharp it felt like my bones recoiled. The forest disappeared for a heartbeat, replaced by the sterile white walls of that old room, the metal handcuffs clinking as the officers dragged her away.

My mother's face twisted with hatred, her eyes wild enough to make even the officers flinch. I remembered the cold floor under my bare feet. I remembered the way her spit flew as she screamed at me. I remembered how every word hit with the precision of a well-sharpened blade.

I had spent years burying those memories, pressing them deep under a pile of half-truths and lies I whispered to myself. Yet here they were, rising again the moment I needed clarity the most, the moment I had to decide whether to save someone who placed their entire trust in me.

The memory refused to simply echo. It pressed... It seeped... It soaked into me with that familiar weight that made breathing feel like swallowing fog.

Right… I was always selfish. Even as a child. Even when the world expected tears or apologies or anything human. I placed myself first. I watched my life burn around me and never reached out a hand unless it benefited me.

And here I was again, standing in another fire, with another choice that measured the same selfish part of me I tried to run from.

A thought I feared more than the flames began to take shape in my chest.

He is fully exposed. He is focused on Elira. One clean slash with my {Surgeon's Scalpel} and his throat will open like warm butter under a knife. I can kill him right now. I can turn my back and disappear into the dark before anyone realizes what happened. I can protect my identity. I can survive the Holy Knights. I can stay hidden from Hera. I can walk away without consequence.

That thought soaked into me with a quiet certainty. It curled like frost across my ribs, whispering that this was the smartest path, the safest one, the only move that ensured my future.

Run… Kill… Hide… That's who you are… Sarrah.

The whisper slithered through my mind, soft as velvet and cold as a winter tide. It reached into the part of me I pretended no longer existed, the part shaped by fear, hunger, and the instinct to strike first so no one could ever strike back.

"No… that's not me… Elira. She's my…"

The voice pressed harder, curling through my skull like a snake tightening around bone.

She is what to you? A friend? A companion? Family? What is she exactly that makes her worth more than your own survival? Why hesitate when you know you matter more?

"She…"

The word cracked inside my throat, fragile and trembling.

See? She is nothing. You are better off alone. Run. Save yourself. Keep your identity hidden. Kill whoever frightens you. That is what you do best. Sarrah, run and hide, kill all who make you afraid…

The forest blurred around me, swallowed by the whispering voice that had been carved into me long before this world ever existed. It tried to smother everything else, as if the present did not matter and only the old instincts should rule me again. It pushed at me until I could barely breathe, urging me to step back, urging me to abandon her the way I abandoned everything that became inconvenient.

But I was no longer that child kneeling in the dark with bloody hands and shaking breaths, waiting for someone to burst in and finish what I started. I was no longer cornered. I no longer needed to run to survive. I had power now, enough to hold my ground and face the monsters outside my skin instead of the one inside it.

And also…

"Elira. She is more than a friend or companion to me. She is so much more than that… She is my… Elira."

The truth left my lips with a weight that settled deep inside my chest. The fog that had blurred my thoughts scattered like smoke, torn apart by a gust of wind. The twisted whisper lost its shape, shrinking until it became nothing more than an echo I no longer feared.

The choice hardened in my bones.

As quickly as my feet could carry me, I stepped toward her. The spell concealing my body snapped apart, its fragile veil dissolving into the scorched air. My true form spread into the world without hesitation.

My wings unfurled in a sharp flare, their dark membranes catching the firelight in a haunting ripple. My hair shifted back to its original shade, falling around me like midnight silk. My eyes burned in their true color, no longer dulled by the disguise I wore. My fangs slid down, hungry, aching, breathing the promise of blood and power.

This was me. All of me.

And this time, I was not running.

With a powerful flap of my wings, I shot forward and landed in front of Elira, my scalpel bursting into existence with a cold, hungry glow.

I am a demon. I am a vampire. And I will not hide it anymore. I am a killer whose path was carved in blood long before this world ever knew my name… Lysandra, I accept your gift.

Blackbrand's flaming blade tore through the air, inches away from slicing through flesh. I lifted my hand, extending my fingers toward the wall of heat. The flames bit at my skin instantly, devouring the disguise I had worn for so long. I felt every burn, every ember digging into me. And still, I reached deeper into it.

She gifted me the ability to be one with fire, yet I never accepted it until now. I always feared it, feared what it meant, feared what I would become if I embraced it fully. But fear had no place here, not when Elira's life balanced on the edge of a blade. If the flames wanted to consume me, then let them. If pain was the path to mastering what she gave me, then I would take it.

In that single suspended heartbeat, I allowed the fire to flood into me instead of her.

Through the roiling blaze I could still see Blackbrand's grin. It twisted with triumph, something wild and ugly spreading across his features. He believed he had won. He believed he had found the one weakness that would break me.

Good for him. Let him think so.

He didn't know the truth. He didn't know what Lysandra created in me. He didn't know the vow carved into my veins, the bloodline that made our kind feared long before history ever learned how to speak.

I did not need strength to overpower him. I did not need higher stats or sharper spells. I only needed to rely on what I was born with—my cheat, the purity of my blood. The ancient ability that once dominated kingdoms and turned cities into kneeling shadows.

The ability to command the world itself.

"Freeze for me…"

The words left my lips softly, a whisper carried on the trembling edge of firelight.

And the blade stopped.

Blackbrand's greatsword froze in place, the flames still curling and biting at my skin, but no longer moving forward. A single hair separated his sword from my scalpel. His grin cracked. Confusion flickered across his eyes. His muscles bulged as he tried to push, but the blade refused to budge even a breath.

The fire around me still burned. The world still inhaled chaos. But his weapon… his body… his blood… all answered to me.

{Blood Manipulation}

I grinned, feeling an intoxicating surge of power rush through me. Even as my fingers trembled from the strain of holding back someone as monstrous as him, I endured. My blood boiled under the pressure, seething like molten metal beneath my skin.

Boil… that's it…

The idea sparked through me just as his expression twisted. That ugly grin he wore with so much pride finally slipped from his lips, melting into terror. Real, shaking terror that made a strange calm settle over me, the kind that came from finally being the one in control.

"I… m-p… o-s-i… b-l-e…" He barely managed to force out the word, each syllable scraping out of him as if dragged against his will. His eyes trembled violently, refusing to believe what stood before him.

I can feel them. I can feel the flames, even if just barely. The thought rang clear in my heart.

Controlling fire was nothing like shaping ice. Ice obeyed, it followed logic. Fire bit at my palms, clawed at my skin, twisted like a living thing refusing to kneel. Yet because she had gifted me that greater fire affinity, I managed to grasp that heat and guide it. Not perfectly, but enough.

"Never touch the ones I care about. Never."

I canceled my scalpel, letting the pooled blood fall and stain the forest floor. My right hand curled inward, gathering every thread of flame still licking at my body. The fire swirled into my palm, hissing, resisting, yet bound to my will in that moment.

I pushed it forward.

"Burn in hell."

I would make his blood boil, granting him the worst death he deserved.

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