The rain fell in sheets. Selene ran.

  Behind her, Selis's boots struck cobblestones in rapid percussion—splash-splash-splash—keeping pace through the narrow alleys of Lowtown. Her breath came in ragged gasps.

  Thunder cracked like breaking stone across the valley. "Keep moving!" Selis shouted over the storm.

  Selene didn't answer. She focused on the rhythm: one foot, then the other, arms swinging, Aldric's coat heavy with water.

  The soldiers' voices echoed from somewhere behind, rough shouts distorted by rain and distance. She couldn't tell how close.

  The alley walls pressed in on either side: patched brick, sagging wood, narrow gaps between Lowtown's crooked buildings. Clotheslines hung overhead, scraps of fabric whipping in the wind like torn sails. Water spilled from overhangs in sudden waterfalls across their path.

  Ahead, just ahead, the center square. The well.

  If they could reach it. If they could—

  Lightning.

  The world turned white. Everything stopped.

  The electric charge in the air resonated with the divine blood in her veins, tearing open channels between present and possibility.

  Not physically. Her legs still moved, her boots still struck stone, the rain still fell. But inside, something fractured.

  The lightning held.

  One moment stretched into eternity. The alley around her became stark black-and-white, every raindrop suspended mid-fall, catching light like precious stones. Shadows leaped across brick walls, twisted and monstrous, still in grotesque angles.

  Then the vision replaced it. Lowtown burning.

  Buildings collapsed into rubble. Flames rose from shattered windows, painting the night in light. Bodies lay scattered in the streets: twisted, broken, still. Smoke rose in black columns toward a sky she couldn't see.

  The well sat at the center of it all. It stood like a grave marker in the ruins.

  The blood's voice cut through the silence, clear and intimate and undeniable.

  —"You left her."—

  Thunder crashed. Reality snapped back.

  Selene stumbled, her boot catching against uneven stone. The vision dissolved. Lowtown stood whole around her, rain-soaked but alive. Selis ran beside her, oblivious, her focus locked ahead.

  "Keep moving!"

  Selene pushed forward, heart hammering against her ribs.

  But the blood's words lingered, echoing in the space behind her thoughts.

  —"You left her."—

  She had. She'd lied to Thena's face, let Dalen take her without fighting back, and then ran. Left her screaming as she was carried away, while Selene fled into Lowtown's maze like a coward.

  Her boot plunged into mud.

  The alley opened into a wider passage where rainwater pooled in shallow lakes across the cobblestones. Mud churned beneath the surface, thick, clinging, treacherous.

  Selene's left foot sank deep. The mud gripped like a hand, pulling her off-balance. She lurched forward, arms flailing, and slammed her palm against the nearest wall to catch herself.

  Brick scraped her skin through the veil.

  "Selene!" Selis grabbed her arm, pulling hard. "Come on!"

  Selene wrenched her boot free with a wet sucking sound and pushed off the wall. They ran again, slower now, the mud dragging at every step.

  Behind them, the soldiers' voices grew louder.

  "This way! I saw them turn here!"

  "Move! Move!"

  Rain blurred Selene’s vision. She blinked hard, water streaming from Aldric’s black hair into her eyes.

  Ahead, another alley. Narrower. Darker.

  They turned into it without hesitation.

  Lightning.

  The world stopped again.

  This time the vision came faster, sharper, more visceral.

  Thena's face.

  She stood in the center of burning Lowtown, amber eyes wide behind cracked spectacles. Her academy robes hung in tatters, singed and torn. A brutal wound split her chest, the fabric crushed inward and dark with blood, as if something had passed through her and been ripped away.

  She stared directly at Selene. Not with fear. Not with pain.

  With betrayal.

  Her lips moved, forming words Selene couldn't hear but understood perfectly.

  You lied to me.

  The blood's voice layered over the vision, soft as a lover's whisper.

  —"She trusted you."—

  Thunder answered from the mountains. Reality.

  Selene's chest constricted. She forced air into her lungs and kept running, boots splashing through puddles, rain hammering her shoulders.

  Selis pulled ahead slightly, turning a corner. Selene followed, her body moving on instinct while her thoughts spiraled.

  "Selene, watch—!"

  Too late.

  Selis's boot caught the edge of a broken cobblestone hidden beneath the water. Her leg buckled. She went down hard, hands plunging into mud, knees striking stone with a sickening crack.

  She gasped, half pain, half shock.

  Selene skidded to a stop and hauled her upright, gripping Selis's arms.

  "I'm fine," Selis managed, though her voice shook. "I'm—"

  "Move."

  They ran again. Even slower. Mud caked their clothes, their hands, their faces.

  The alley walls seemed to press closer. The storm pressed down. The world pressed in.

  Lightning.

  Time stopped. The vision slammed into her with brutal clarity.

  Herself.

  Standing in the center of Lowtown's square, surrounded by ruins and ash. Aldric's face stared back at her from a puddle of water, stern, emotionless. Blood dripped from her hands, thick and dark, pooling at her feet.

  The sword floated above her, fire opal pulsing with crimson light.

  Bodies lay scattered around her: soldiers, townsfolk. She couldn't tell. Didn't matter.

  At her feet—

  Thena.

  Amber eyes wide behind shattered spectacles. Dark hair spread across cobblestone. Throat torn open.

  The blood's voice came from everywhere and nowhere:

  —"Without me, you will kill her."—

  Thunder crashed so loud it felt like the world breaking.

  Selene stumbled from the weight of what she'd seen. Her boot caught, her balance faltered, and for one terrible second she thought she'd go down.

  But she didn't. She kept moving.

  Because stopping meant dying. Stopping meant surrendering. Stopping meant letting that vision become real.

  Her breathing changed. Faster. Shallower. Not from exhaustion. From something else.

  The hunger rose.

  Heat spread through her veins like molten glass, not painful, but present. Her tongue brushed against something sharp.

  Fangs.

  Her nails pressed against the inside of Aldric's gloves. She felt them lengthening, hardening, sharpening into points.

  The world around her remained the same: rain, thunder, narrow alleys, but inside, everything shifted. She needed to feed.

  Beside her, Selis ran on, unaware. Her focus locked ahead, searching for the square, for safety, for escape.

  Selene's jaw clenched. She forced her thoughts into order, forced her body to obey.

  The alley opened ahead. The square. They burst into the open.

  Rain fell harder here, no buildings to break its fall. Lightning illuminated the space in stark flashes, cobblestones slick with water, abandoned stalls along the edges, and at the center:

  The Old Well.

  Stone rim worn smooth by generations. Wooden roof sagging slightly under the storm's weight. The pulley rope swayed in the wind, creaking softly.

  Empty. For now.

  But behind them—

  Soldiers' voices. Boots on stone.

  Selis jolted. Selene didn't let her hesitate.

  They had seconds.

  The blood stirred.

  Not speaking yet. Just... present. Watching. Waiting.

  The hunger grew with each heartbeat..

  Selene grabbed Selis's arm urgently.

  Selis turned, rain streaming down her face beneath the hood's shadow. Though her eyes remained closed, she seemed to sense Selene's desperation.

  "Selene?"

  "You keep going." Selene's voice came low. "Jump. I'll follow."

  Selis's head tilted slightly. "What? No, we—"

  "Jump. Now."

  "Not without you."

  "Selis—"

  "I'm not leaving you!"

  The soldiers' shouts grew louder. Selene could hear individual voices now, individual boots.

  The hunger surged. All at once.

  Her fangs extended fully, pressing against her lower lip. Her nails sharpened completely, piercing through the leather of Aldric's gloves.

  Her breathing quickened. Her pupils dilated. Every raindrop, every heartbeat, every living thing suddenly vivid.

  The blood's voice came, soft.

  —"Hunger is the oldest truth."—

  Selene's hands trembled. She pulled them back from Selis's arm before her nails could pierce skin.

  "Please," she whispered, her voice breaking. "Trust me. Remember?"

  Selis went still.

  The word hung between them. Trust.

  The promise Selis had made in the alley outside the Copper Hearth. When Selene asked her not for worship, but for trust.

  Selene focused on Selis's closed eyes.

  "I'll follow. I promise. But you have to go now."

  Thunder rolled.

  Selis's expression tightened. Though her eyes remained closed, something shifted in her, searching for something, finding whatever she needed.

  Then she nodded.

  She turned toward the well.

  And jumped.

  Selene watched her disappear into darkness.

  The splash echoed up from below.

  Then silence.

  She stood alone in the rain, staring at the empty well.

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Her body locked. The hunger roared.

  She heard it, a sound that came from inside her blood, inside her bones, inside the blood consciousness that had merged with her flesh.

  Her fangs throbbed. Her nails dug into her palms. The need flooded her senses, drowning out sight, sound, and thought until only a single command survived.

  Feed.

  Behind her, soldiers burst into the square from the western alley, four Baron's soldiers, mud-splattered and furious, weapons raised.

  "There!" one shouted, pointing. "Surround 'em! Don't let—"

  To Selene's left, two figures emerged from the shadows.

  Mauldric and Isadora Ardent.

  The soldiers skidded to a halt, their boots splashing through puddles. The lead soldier's face twisted with recognition, and immediate hatred.

  "Oh, perfect," he spat. "The fucking circle shows up."

  Mauldric's storm-brown eyes remained cold. "Stand aside. He's ours."

  “No chance!” The Baron's soldier stepped forward, spear raised. "We're takin' this to the Baron. We chased him here. He's ours."

  Isadora's voice cut through the rain, sharp and dismissive: "You couldn't catch a crippled horse if it walked into your arms. Step aside before you embarrass yourselves further."

  The soldier’s face tightened. “You arrogant—”

  "Arrogant?" Mauldric's tone didn't rise, but something dangerous entered it. "We're competent. There's a difference. Though I wouldn't expect you to understand it."

  Another soldier shoved forward, rage overtaking caution. "You think you're better'n us? You an' your fuckin' fancy robes?"

  "We don't think," Isadora said coldly. "We know."

  "Yer all the same!" the lead soldier snarled, gripping his spear. "Scholars, Athenaeum—every last one o' you—treatin' us like dirt! Like we're nothin'!"

  "You are nothing," Mauldric said flatly. "Lowtown trash given spears and called soldiers. The Baron scrapes you off the streets and you're grateful for it."

  The soldiers bristled. One took a threatening step forward.

  "We're the only reason this town's still standin'!" he snarled. "You sit up in your towers readin' your damn books, and we're the ones keepin' the walls up! We're the ones doin' the real work!"

  "Real work?" Isadora's laugh was cold. "You swing spears and drink yourselves stupid. Don't confuse labor with value."

  "Value?!" the soldier snarled, voice cracking. "Value? You think you get t' talk about value? Every fire, every scream, every bit o' sufferin'? That's on you people! On you scholars an' your damn experiments! Your big dreams! Your arrogance!"

  The lead soldier pointed his spear at the Ardent now, with rage.

  "You're the cause of all the hurt in this valley—and you still stand there lookin' down on us?"

  Mauldric's hand moved to his dagger. "Careful."

  "Or what?" The soldier stepped closer. "You'll kill us? Go on, then."

  "To the abyss with you all!" his voice cracked. "You, the Circle, the Athenaeum—every last one o' you! We're done bowin' to you! Done lettin' you treat us like damn animals!"

  Thunder crashed.

  "Then stop acting like them," Mauldric said.

  "That's it. You want him? You go through us first."

  He raised his spear.

  The other soldiers moved with him, spreading out, weapons ready, fury overriding fear.

  The Ardent separated simultaneously, Mauldric moving right, Isadora left, hands on weapons, faces emotionless, utterly unbothered by the threat. Ready.

  Selene stood trapped in the center.

  Soldiers closing from one side. Ardent from the other.

  All of them wanted her. None of them would let the others have her. And none of them cared what happened to each other.

  Rain hammered down. Lightning flashed. Thunder rolled.

  The hunger screamed.

  Her breathing quickened. Every raindrop, every heartbeat, every living thing suddenly vivid.

  So many of them. So close. So warm. So alive.

  The blood's voice slipped in, soft and seductive.

  "You are the apex. Eat."

  A pause. The world held its breath.

  "Let. Me. In."

  Lightning flashed.

  Thunder crashed.

  Selene closed her eyes.

  Darkness. Infinite. Silent.

  She stood in nothing, no ground beneath her feet, no sky above, just void.

  Then the warmth hit her ankles.

  Thick, heavy fluid rising from nowhere. She tried to step back, but her legs wouldn't move. She was rooted in the emptiness.

  The level rose frighteningly fast. Shins. Knees. Thighs.

  It wasn't water. It was hot. Coppery. Vital.

  Blood.

  It surged upward in a silent tide, filling the infinite dark. Waist-high. Chest-high. It wrapped around her like a second skin, heavy and suffocating.

  Selene struggled, straining against unseen bonds, but the tide was inevitable.

  Neck-high.

  The metallic scent filled her nose. The heat seeped into her pores. It reached her chin. Her mouth.

  She submerged completely.

  The silence was absolute. Weight pressed against her from all sides, a red ocean crushing her. She held her breath, her lungs burning, her mind screaming for air that didn't exist.

  Her will broke.

  She gasped.

  The thick fluid rushed into her open mouth, down her throat, flooding her lungs. She choked, her body convulsing in the void, drowning in the copper heat.

  Selene's eyes snapped open. Rain. Thunder. The square. But everything had changed.

  Her body hummed with power. Her fangs were fully extended, her nails sharp as razors.

  Every heartbeat pulsed against her awareness. Every breath pulled at her attention. Every living thing in the square suddenly vivid, like she'd been seeing through fog her entire life and someone had just torn it away.

  The Baron's soldiers. The Ardent. All of them so close. So warm. So alive. And she was starving.

  Selene moved. The ground beneath her feet exploded. Cobblestones vaporized into dust and shrapnel. A crater materialized instantly where she'd been standing, cracks spreading outward like frozen lightning. The shockwave hit everyone simultaneously; a wall of compressed air that knocked soldiers off their feet and forced even the Ardent to brace themselves.

  BOOM.

  The sonic boom followed a heartbeat later, shattering intact windows in the surrounding buildings.

  The remaining soldiers didn't die—they simply ceased. One moment scrambling through mud and blood, the next scattered across cobblestones in patterns that had once been human. The square became an anatomy lesson written in violence, each piece landing with its own wet percussion: thud, splash, crack.

  Panic flooded the square, sudden and suffocating.

  The last soldier pressed himself against a wall, sword raised with trembling hands, eyes wide and white.

  He never saw her coming.

  One moment he was there.

  The next, his body folded in half. Backward.

  Spine snapping with a wet crack, ribs piercing through his back, legs bending at impossible angles. He hit the ground in a broken heap, still twitching, blood running from his mouth in thick streams.

  Then stillness.

  Mauldric and Isadora remained.

  The Ardent siblings stood amid the carnage, composure cracking. Their storm-brown and dark eyes followed Selene with thinly veiled terror as she flickered in and out of sight, each reappearance tearing another chunk of earth apart.

  BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.

  The sonic booms overlapped into continuous thunder, each step a crater, each movement tearing silver-blue wounds in the air itself. The rain no longer fell around her—it hung suspended in her wake, a tunnel of frozen droplets marking her passage.

  Mauldric's hand moved to his coat.

  He pulled out three small spheres: smooth, glass, filled with swirling crimson light. Arcane grenades. Condensed destruction in his palm. His face grew calmer.

  He threw them. Not at Selene's position.

  At where he thought she might be next.

  The spheres arced through the rain.

  Then they detonated.

  The explosions tore through the square in rapid succession: CRACK-CRACK-CRACK, each one releasing a shockwave of compressed arcane energy that shattered stone and hurled debris across the ground. Flames erupted briefly before the rain smothered them.

  Smoke billowed. The square vanished in the haze.

  Then Selene appeared.

  Not from the smoke, but directly in front of Mauldric.

  One instant she wasn't there. The next she was, Aldric's face inches from his own, silver eyes burning with hunger and delight.

  Her hand shot out and closed around his throat.

  She raised him as if he were weightless.

  His boots left the ground. His hands flew to her arm, clawing, trying to pry her fingers loose. But she was immovable, a statue given flesh, divine strength wearing human skin.

  He choked. Gasped. Struggled.

  His feet kicked at nothing, unable to reach the ground, unable to find purchase.

  Behind Selene, Isadora moved.

  Her dagger came out in one fluid motion: black steel, curved, razor-sharp. She closed the distance in three steps and thrust the blade through Selene's shoulder from behind.

  The steel punched through fabric, through flesh, through bone. It burst from the front of Selene's shoulder, the tip gleaming red.

  Selene didn't flinch. Didn't turn.

  The blade stood in her like decoration. Blood slid down its length, glowing faintly even in the rain.

  Slowly, very slowly, she turned her head.

  Silver met dark. And Selene smiled.

  Her free hand shot out, faster than Isadora could react and closed around her throat.

  Now she held them both. Brother and sister, suspended before her, choking, struggling, making those desperate sounds: wet gasps, strangled attempts at breath, the primal noise of bodies fighting for air they couldn't reach.

  Selene's pupils dilated.

  A soft sound escaped her throat, half sigh, half moan. The pleasure of it was visceral. Undeniable. Their suffering sang to something deep within her, something that had waited too long to feed.

  She watched them struggle. Watched their faces turn red, then purple. Watched the panic bloom in their eyes as oxygen deprivation set in.

  Beautiful.

  Then her eyes widened.

  First sparks, then wildfire erupted from her hands.

  Not red. Not orange.

  Green.

  The flames wrapped around both throats instantly, twisting and alive, burning with colors that shouldn't exist. Green bleeding into violet bleeding into searing white. The fire didn't behave like normal flame; it moved with intent, coiling tighter, burning hotter, feeding on flesh and blood and life itself. Mauldric and Isadora screamed.

  The sound was inhuman. Raw. Agony given voice.

  Their skin blackened. Blistered. Melted. The smell hit the air, charred meat, burning hair, something acrid and chemical as the fire consumed everything it touched.

  Selene just watched. Her expression serene. Almost curious.

  The flames spread, up their necks, across their faces, down their chests. Their robes ignited, fabric dissolving into ash. Their screams grew higher, more desperate, more broken.

  And still she held them. Still she watched.

  The fire consumed them completely now, green and violet flames wreathing their bodies, turning them into living torches. Their hair burned away. Their flesh peeled and cracked and charred.

  They were still alive. Still screaming. Still struggling in her grip.

  Then

  CRACK.

  Isadora's neck snapped.

  The sound was sharp, final, utterly mundane compared to the horror surrounding it. Her body went limp immediately. The screaming stopped. The flames continued burning, but the struggle ceased. She hung in Selene's grip like a broken doll, head lolling at an unnatural angle.

  Selene released her. The body dropped.

  It hit the ground with a wet thud, flames still consuming it, smoke rising in black columns. The corpse twitched once, nerves firing their last signals, then went still.

  But Mauldric was still alive.

  Selene pulled him closer.

  His eyes rolled wildly in their sockets, consciousness flickering. Burns covered his entire body. He should have been dead already. He should have been beyond pain.

  But he was still alive. Still aware.

  Selene's mouth opened.

  Fangs gleamed.

  She leaned in. She bit.

  Her teeth sank into his throat, piercing through charred flesh, finding the artery beneath. Blood rushed forth, hot, coppery, vital, flooding her mouth.

  She drank. And the world exploded.

  Flashes.

  Images.

  Memories that weren't hers.

  A classroom. Young. Maybe eight years old. A tutor's hand striking his knuckles with a ruler. "Stupid boy. Can't you even write your own name correctly?"

  His father, stern and disappointed, standing over failed test papers. "Your sister never made these mistakes. Why can't you be more like her?"

  Training yards. Wooden swords. Isadora moving with natural grace while he stumbled, fell, got up, tried again. Always trying. Always falling short.

  The Circle's letter of acceptance. His father's face, proud at last. "You'll serve them well. Don't embarrass us."

  Isadora at night, whispering in their shared room: "You're good enough. Don't listen to them. You're good enough."

  First mission. First kill. A man begging, pleading. Orders were orders. The dagger went in cleanly. The man stopped begging.

  Isadora beside him afterward: "It gets easier." It did. It shouldn't have, but it did.

  Years of service. Years of obedience. Following orders without question because questioning meant doubt and doubt meant failure and failure meant hearing his father's voice again.

  "Don't embarrass us."The Circle. Watching.

  Fear. Constant fear beneath the obedience. Not of death. Of inadequacy.

  This final moment. Flames. Pain. The realization: I failed.

  Isadora's neck snapping.

  I couldn't even protect her.

  The fangs piercing his throat.

  His last thought:

  I'm sorry.

  Selene released him.

  Mauldric's body fell beside his sister's.

  Both burning. Both broken. Both gone.

  A dull pressure anchored her to the moment. A foreign weight in her flesh.

  Selene reached up slowly. Her fingers closed around the cold steel handle protruding from her shoulder. Isadora's dagger.

  She ripped it free in one sharp motion.

  Blood splashed against her neck—her own this time—but the wound was already closing, the divine vitality knitting muscle and skin back together in seconds. She let the weapon fall. It hit the wet stones with a hollow clatter, used and discarded.

  She stood alone in the center of the square, rain hammering her shoulders, blood running from her chin.

  The hunger was… quieter now. Gone.

  Around her, the destruction spread in concentric circles: craters, collapsed cobblestones, shattered buildings. Bodies lay scattered like discarded dolls.

  The rain began to wash the blood away.

  Selene looked down at her hands, Aldric's hands, covered in blood and human remains.

  Selene fell to her knees. Both hands slammed against wet cobblestone, blood and rainwater mixing beneath her palms. Her chest heaved, not from exertion but from the crushing weight of what she'd just done.

  The silver glow faded from her eyes.

  Aldric's face stared back at her from a puddle, black hair plastered to his skull. She looked up.

  Bodies. Everywhere.

  Soldiers torn apart, limbs scattered across the square like broken toys. Mauldric and Isadora still burning, green flames dying slowly in the rain, smoke rising in thin columns. The craters she'd left behind filled with water, forming dark pools that reflected nothing. The destruction spread in concentric circles, radiating outward from where she knelt.

  I did this. All of this.

  Her stomach lurched. She doubled over, retching, but nothing came up. Just dry heaves that left her gasping.

  The cold rain shocked her back into her body. The taste of copper and char still coated her tongue, mixing with rainwater until she couldn't tell where the blood ended and the storm began.

  Mauldric's memories echoed in her skull: his fear, his inadequacy, his sister whispering you're good enough in the dark. The taste of his blood still lingered on her tongue. She could feel his life inside her now, absorbed, merged with everything else she'd taken.

  I killed him. I burned them both alive and I—

  A sound cut through the rain.

  Boots. More boots.

  Voices shouting from the northern alley. Reinforcements. More Baron's soldiers drawn by the explosions, the screams, the thunder that wasn't thunder.

  Selene's head snapped up. She couldn't stay here.

  Her legs wouldn't obey. The divine power had burned through her like wildfire through dry wood, leaving only exhaustion. If anything, she felt hollower now, emptied out, used up. The voices grew louder.

  "This way! Heard it comin' from the square!"

  "Baron above… what's that stench?"

  "Smoke—somethin's burnin'!"

  Selene forced herself upright. Her legs shook. Aldric's coat hung heavy with rain, weighing her down like chains.

  The well.

  Through the sheets of rain, it waited. Her only escape. Her only choice.

  Selene stumbled forward.

  One step. Another. Her ankle twisted on broken cobblestone but she caught herself, kept moving.

  The boots were close now.

  She reached the well's edge and looked down.

  Darkness.

  No way to know how deep it went. No way to know if Selis was still alive down there. No way to know if this was escape or just another kind of death.

  But anywhere was better than here.

  Selene gripped the stone rim, Aldric's weathered hands white-knuckled against wet stone, and swung her legs over.

  For one second, she balanced on the edge. She noticed the carving in the rim—the letter E.

  Rain hammered her shoulders. Thunder rolled across the valley. Behind her, the first soldiers burst into the square.

  Someone screamed, high and terrified, the sound of someone stumbling onto a nightmare.

  "What the fuck—"

  "Bodies!—there's bodies everywhere!"

  "Somethin's burnin'… are those—are those people?"

  Then Selene let go. She fell. Like a rag doll cut from its strings.

  Her arms hung loose, her legs limp, her body surrendering entirely to the fall. Stone walls rushed past in streaks of black. Above, the screams and rain and chaos thinned into distant echoes.

  The fall seemed to last forever.

  Then

  SPLASH.

  Cold.

  Instant.

  Water closed over her head, pulling her down. The shock of it drove the air from her lungs. She tried to swim but her arms wouldn't move, her legs wouldn't kick. Exhaustion dragged at her like iron weights.

  Too tired. Can't—

  She sank.

  Down.

  Down.

  Down.

  The cold became everything, seeping through Aldric's coat, through the veil, through skin and muscle to settle in her bones. Her thoughts scattered. Aldric's face dissolved. The memories of Aldric and Mauldric, all of them, began to blur together until she couldn't tell which were hers and which were stolen. Which life was real. The darkness pressed in from all sides.

  Her eyes closed.

  And opened.

  Not in water. In warmth.

  Golden lamplight. Old books and lamp oil. Canvas walls.

  Eldric's tent.

  But they were all burning again: Corvan, Selis, Aldric, Eldric, frozen in place while blue-white flames consumed them endlessly. Burning. Watching her with eyes that could not close.

  Except Thena.

  Untouched. Sitting directly across from her.

  "Selene?" Confusion in amber eyes. "What's happening?"

  Movement behind her.

  The blood rose, her true form, luminous and terrible. White hair. Silver eyes. Perfect pale hands reaching.

  Those hands closed around Thena's throat from behind.

  Then she smiled over Thena's shoulder. Silver hair fell like a curtain as she leaned in and sank her fangs into Thena's throat.

  Thena's eyes fluttered shut. Her lips parted, not in pain but in something far worse. Pleasure.

  The tent suddenly felt smaller. Crowded.

  Movement at the edges of Selene's vision. Two more figures materialized in the burning tent.

  Mauldric to Thena's right. Isadora to her left.

  They stood exactly as they had in the square moments ago, before the flames, before the violence. But as Selene watched, fire bloomed across their bodies. The same flames that had consumed them in reality now devoured them here, in this space between dream and waking.

  Tears streamed down their still faces as they burned.

  The blood laughed, fangs still buried in Thena's throat. "Your newest guests. Still warm upon the world. The spice of their terror lingers within you—I taste every drop."

  She pulled back slightly, blood dripping from her perfect lips, and looked at Mauldric's burning form.

  "This one carries years of hunger. 'Your sister never faltered.' 'Do not shame us.' A lifetime spent trying to be enough—and what remained? His last breath was a whisper of failure, the final sting of disappointing the only soul that valued him."

  The blood's smile widened, a glimmer of cruel amusement in its voice. "How precious their hope appears, even as the flames consume them."

  Its gaze shifted to Isadora's burning form. "And she believed, oh how she believed, that she could save him. Mortals cling so foolishly to their little dreams."

  The entity stepped away from Thena, moving to hover before Selene, gesturing at the burning siblings framing her frozen friend.

  "Without me," the blood murmured, its tone low and mocking, "you are merely a tempest, devouring your own essence."

  It leaned closer, breath warm and tinged with malice against Selene's ear.

  "How many must perish before the lesson sinks in? How many failures must you choke down before you understand what you truly are?"

  Darkness.

  And Selene woke.