Blue-white fire dances across the walls, twisting in impossible patterns and defying all laws of physics. The flames consume nothing—not the blood-soaked concrete or the bodies scattered like broken dolls.
This isn't destruction.
It's preparation.
I stand at the center of it all, unmoved, untouched. Fire caresses my skin like an old lover, recognizing what I am and making way. My hair lifts slightly in the heat, rainbow strands floating as though underwater.
The inferno is beautiful in its terrible way.
I lift my hand, palm up, fingers splayed. My nails lengthen just a fraction, blackening at the tips.
"Come," I whisper, and the command reverberates through the chamber. Not with sound, but with intent.
The effect is immediate. Pinpricks of light rise from the bodies—pale blue, silver-white, soft lavender. They drift upward like embers from a dying fire, hesitant at first, then eager. Soullight. Released from flesh which can no longer serve.
