There is no prayer more powerful than hatred that remembers.
I saw their bodies.
Not metaphor. Not nightmare.
Their real, ruined bodies—torn, consumed, spat upon by laughter.
Jon. Yuna.
I didn't want to believe it.
Couldn't.
But disbelief doesn't bring back the dead. And I was staring at their empty places.
They were my life. Not part of it. Not in it.
They were the whole thing.
I had no dreams beyond raising them.
No desires beyond protecting them.
No meaning outside the sound of their breathing, and the warmth of their skin when the nights got too cold.
I dreamed of buying one more day with them.
That was enough.
That had to be enough.
I learned that age means nothing when responsibility arrives. That children don't get to stay children when their world stops spinning.
So I stepped into the silence, and I carried them.
I never blamed life.
Not when the air turned to poison. Not when I found my sister twitching in her sleep from toxins. Not when I held my mother's cold, half-living hand every morning for six straight years.
We weren't special.
We weren't cursed.
Everyone was suffering.
Everyone was losing.
So why blame the world?
Why scream at the wind for not becoming rain?
Even the war between humans and serpents—I understood it. It was survival. Not cruelty. Not then.
But now?
Now I blame everything.
Every.
Thing.
I gave the world its name.
Cursed. Vile. Empty. Rotten. False.
I gave it fault.
All the struggle. All the kindness I gave when I had nothing. The prayers. The pity I felt for others when my own ribs ached from hunger—when my siblings coughed blood in their sleep and I smiled so they wouldn't cry.
And this… This was what I got in return?
Siblings—dead.
Flow—wounded and whimpering.
A town I once lived in—burned from the inside.
And the old man who gave me a chance to work—ripped to pieces.
YES.
Yes, I blame the world.
But mostly—I blame myself.
For not being stronger. For not becoming the weapon I should've been. For believing in anything but power.
And when my eyes rose again, and I saw the two serpents laughing—
I knew.
They didn't just fight to survive.
They delighted in our despair.
They bathed in it.
Twisted us.
Watched us turn against our own blood. Then devoured what was left.
They wanted to see us suffer.
And I decided—I will return that favor a thousandfold.
[𝘚𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘩, 𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘵.]
The voice.
He'd always been cruel. Always distant. He called me "brat." Mocked me. Spoke in riddles.
The first time I asked him to save my family, he answered:
"I don't have that power. And you don't have the price."
I didn't understand it then. When I asked him what it meant, all he said was:
"When you understand, I'll answer."
I never asked after that.
But now, he asked again.
[State your wish.]
And for the first time, I didn't ask for salvation. I didn't beg for resurrection.
I asked for ruin.
"I want them to pay," I said.
[Be clearer.]
Always teasing. Always testing.
I stood.
My knees shook, but I did not fall. I wiped the tears from my face with fingers stained in blood.
I wasn't trembling anymore.
The wind around me didn't blow.
It obeyed.
"I want to know their names," I said.
"Every serpent. Every breed. Every bloodline."
"I want to know what kills them. What breaks them. What ends them."
"I want to become it."
My voice shook. Low. Barely a breath.
"I wish to be the thing they fear."
No—
"The one they are terrified of."
The world stilled.
Utterly.
Like even the air knew something ancient had been spoken.
Then the voice inside me—
Laughed.
But it wasn't cruel. It was relieved. Like something long sealed had finally been named.
[𝘎𝘖𝘖𝘋] it said.
[𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘴, 𝘣𝘰𝘺. 𝘖𝘶𝘳 𝘫𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘸.]
Then—agony.
Something ancient surged through me like lightning through rusted wire.
My veins—always black from poison—turned silver. Only for a breath. Then black again.
But something inside had changed.
My vision sharpened. Colors distorted. Sound thinned. I saw everything. The rot in the roots. The poison in the breath.
The serpents turned.
"What—what is that?" one said.
"What's happening to him?"
They backed away.
But it was already too late.
It was too late. Too late for them. Too late for fear.
I could see the serpents before me. But more than that—I could sense their fear.
Like a scent. Like sound underwater. A pulse trying to hide from a storm.
And then—
It appeared.
A flame.
Not fire like the world knows. Not orange or red or hungry. But a hovering twist of black and white, licking the air in perfect stillness.
It did not burn me. But my eyes—They ached. My soul bent around it like metal around a curse.
It whispered.
[𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘦𝘱𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘩, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘶𝘱 𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘵.]
[𝘈 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯𝘦. 𝘍𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳. 𝘙𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧. 𝘛𝘰 𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶— 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘺 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦.]
I winced. The light stung—but the flame gave off no heat. Its glow reached inside me without touching skin.
Then it added:
[𝘉𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘭. 𝘊𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘺. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵.]
My breath shook. My ribs felt like glass.
What do I give up? What could I survive without?
JOY?
No. My siblings were joy. Losing that meant losing them all over again.
HOPE?
I needed hope more than ever. Even if it bled. Even if it mocked me.
LOVE?
I could lose everything. But not love. Not love. Never love.
Then the voice whispered something ancient. Older than sky. Older than war.
[PITY]
And I understood.
Pity had ruined me.
Pity had made me hesitate.
Pity for the strangers who looked at me like I was unlucky.
Pity for the weak.
Pity for the cruel.
Pity for dying men and starving women when I had nothing left.
Pity when I should've fought.
Pity when I should've struck.
Pity when I should've survived.
I swallowed poison to save them. Took wounds that weren't mine.
And now?
Now my siblings are dead, and I'm left with nothing.
So I clenched my fist.
And I made my choice.
"Take it," I said.
The flame moved—not toward my body, but through my soul.
I didn't scream from pain.
I screamed as something warm left me.
Something soft. Something human.
Yanked out by the roots.
And then I saw it:
All the moments I forgave when I should've struck. All the kindness that came back as teeth. All the mercy that only led to blood.
Gone.
Like breath on cold glass.
Erased.
The flame dimmed, satisfied.
[PITY REMOVED.]
[Your wish shall be fulfilled.]
[Destruction of the two before you.]
[And aid in the annihilation of the rest.]
The flame vanished.
And the black room dissolved.
But I—I was no longer in control of my body.
The voice had taken it.
But I saw.
I saw clearly. More clearly than ever.
The serpents—tall as houses, yellow like betrayal—Trembled.
They had devoured my siblings. Mocked my pleas. Laughed at my despair.
Now?
Now they were afraid.