The scorching heat of the Veil still burned beneath Elyra's skin, a constant reminder of the trial Rhaziel had forced upon her. Her limbs ached, bruises blossoming where the black flames had licked at her flesh, but it was the fire inside her—the dark power stirring within—that unsettled her most. It whispered promises she didn't want to hear.
She sat on the jagged stone, hands trembling as she traced the glowing sigils carved into her palms. They pulsed faintly, a heartbeat in the shadows, marking her as bound. The magic was hers and his now—an unbreakable tether etched into her very soul.
"Why?" Her voice broke the silence, brittle as cracked glass. "Why did you burn me without warning? I summoned you to protect myself, not to become your pawn."
Rhaziel's silhouette emerged from the swirling mists, wings folding neatly behind him. His golden eyes flickered with something almost like regret, but the hardness remained.
"Power is never given freely," he said, voice low and unwavering. "You demanded strength, and strength requires sacrifice. Pain is the crucible that tempers the weak into steel. I did not burn you to break you—though I could have—but to forge you."
She clenched her fists, the sting of betrayal sharp beneath the heat of her growing magic. "I didn't ask to be your project."
"No," he admitted, stepping closer, the air thick with his presence. "You asked for freedom, but freedom is not the absence of chains—it is mastering the chains that bind you. The flames were the first lesson."
Her breath hitched, swirling with the dark energy coursing through her veins. She was afraid—afraid of losing herself, afraid of the monster she might become. Yet, beneath the fear, a stubborn ember of determination smoldered.
"What happens if I fail?" she whispered.
Rhaziel's gaze locked onto hers, unyielding. "Failure means death. Or worse—living as a broken shadow, your soul torn between worlds, never whole again."
The weight of his words pressed down on her chest, but Elyra lifted her chin, drawing strength from the resolve hardening inside her. She would not be a victim. She would survive. She would become power incarnate, no matter the cost.
"Then teach me," she said, voice steady despite the storm inside. "Teach me to wield this darkness before it consumes me."
A slow smile curved Rhaziel's lips, his eyes gleaming with approval. "Very well, little witch. Your true awakening begins now."
He reached out, and as his fingers brushed hers, the sigils on her palms flared to life, their glow illuminating the Veil with eerie light. Power surged between them—terrifying, intoxicating, and utterly binding.
As the shadows around them deepened, Elyra felt the final threads of her old life unraveling. The path ahead was drenched in darkness, but for the first time, she was ready to walk it.