Being a Vessel is both a curse and a blessing.
They can become stronger than anyone else, yet they face danger far more threatening.
Shyamal, being a Vessel herself, knows this better than anything.
She walked on a thin layer of ice that could break at any time.
Had she not found Himmel and his love, she would have died long ago.
Even now, Shyamal was aware….
…There is a slim chance of her keeping her sanity in the next awakening.
Even Esmeray has repeatedly told her… she isn't mentally strong enough to face a Primordial Goddess.
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"How do you know?" Shyamal asked, her voice low. "How do you know I am going to die?"
Siersha's smile turned even brighter.
She turned around and moved the scythe off her throat.
Slowly, she walked towards her until she stood inches away.
Siersha leaned in, her breath brushing Shyamal's cheek.
"Because it was supposed to be me," she whispered. "The Vessel of Taishareth."
"What… did you just say?" she asked.
