Veronica's perspective
Scene 1: The struggles.
I remember the throne room being colder than it looked. Everyone always said the walls of Obsidia shimmered with power, with pride, with history. But all I felt standing there was emptiness. The light that ran through the black marble looked like veins of blood, pulsing… alive. And I stood in front of my father, trembling like some fragile child.
He didn't even bother to look at me when he said it.
"You are not fit to inherit the crown."
Those words never left me. They cut deeper than any blade. He said it like it was fact, like my existence was a disappointment that couldn't be undone. My mother, Alexandra, stood beside him. I looked at her, hoping she'd speak up for me, tell him I was trying. But she said nothing. Not a word. Her eyes stayed fixed on the floor.
I wanted to scream at her. To ask why she wouldn't defend me. But I couldn't. My voice was too small next to his.
"I tried, Father," I managed to say. "I train every day. I fought the Sentinels without fear. I—"
He stood up from his throne, and the room went silent. "You failed." His aura filled the air, heavy, choking. "Power defines worth. Your brother understands this. You, Veronica… do not."
Marcus. It was always Marcus. The golden son. The heir who never stumbled, never doubted, never failed.
When he left the hall, I stayed there long after everyone else was gone. The silence pressed against me, and that word—weak—echoed again and again. Weak. Worthless. Forgotten.
That night I sat by my window, watching the Martian storms roll across the plains. They looked so far away, but they rumbled like they were inside me. Every flash of lightning reminded me of his words. Every gust of wind sounded like laughter.
"I'll show you," I whispered to no one.
And that was when I heard it. A voice behind me.
"You seek strength, little princess?"
I turned, and everything around me seemed to freeze. The air went heavy. The torches dimmed. Out of the darkness, something formed—a shape, tall and shadowed, eyes glowing like dying stars.
"Who are you?" I asked. My voice didn't sound like mine.
It smiled. "Someone who knows what it means to be overlooked. You want them to see your worth. I can give you that."
I didn't answer. I just stared. The shape shifted into a woman's form—black hair, smoke trailing off her shoulders, face calm but cold. Her presence pulled at me, like gravity.
"How?" I asked.
"Power," she said. "Enough to make even your father kneel."
My heart pounded. Every part of me knew it was wrong, but the temptation felt… right. For once, someone was offering me a chance. No judgment. No comparison. No Marcus.
"What do you want?" I asked.
Her smile widened. "A bond. A piece of your soul, for a taste of eternity."
I thought of Father's voice. Of Mother's silence. Of Marcus' perfect reflection in everyone's eyes. And I said it before I could stop myself.
"Do it."
The moment her hand touched my chest, I felt like ice and fire were fighting inside me. My vision went black. I screamed, but it came out hollow, swallowed by darkness. The pain was unbearable, but beneath it was power. Real, raw power.
When I opened my eyes, she was gone. But a mark—dark and swirling—glowed faintly on my wrist. It pulsed with light like a heartbeat.
The storm outside stopped.
I stood, shaking, breathing hard, and caught my reflection in the window. My eyes flickered crimson.
"Father will see," I whispered. "They all will."
Scene 2:Lies we tell ourselves.
I didn't sleep that night. I didn't need to. The energy coursing through me was too loud, too alive. Every breath felt electric. Every movement, precise. When dawn broke over Obsidia, I walked to the training hall before anyone else was awake. The moment I gripped my blade, I felt the power pulse through my arm like a heartbeat.
When I struck the first target dummy, it exploded into dust.
The shock made me laugh, a sound I hadn't heard from myself in a long time. It wasn't joy. It was relief. I felt invincible.
By the end of the week, my name was on every tongue. The same guards who once looked past me now bowed their heads. My father's generals spoke to me with caution, with respect. Even my father himself started watching from the throne balcony during my sessions. He never smiled, but I saw something new in his eyes—curiosity.
"Your progress is… impressive," he said once, his tone flat.
It was the closest thing to approval I'd ever heard. And it was enough to keep me going.
But my mother, Alexandra, she saw through it. She always did.
At dinner, she'd look at me longer than before. Her eyes—soft, sad—searched for something I couldn't give her anymore. One night, when Marcus and Father had left, she spoke.
"Veronica, what have you done?"
Her voice cracked, not with anger but sorrow.
I froze, my hand halfway to the glass of water. "I don't know what you mean."
She shook her head. "I can feel it in you. Something dark. It's changing you."
"It's making me stronger," I said sharply. "You should be proud."
She stood up, tears forming. "Proud? I raised you to lead with heart, not hatred."
"I'm not like Marcus!" I snapped. "I don't have the luxury of waiting for approval. You don't know what it feels like to be invisible."
She came closer, placed her hand on my cheek. It should have comforted me. Instead, it burned.
"You were never invisible to me," she whispered. "But if you keep feeding that power, one day I won't recognize you."
I turned away before she could see the flicker of pain in my face. I wanted to tell her she was wrong, that I was still me. But the truth was, I didn't know anymore.
At night, I started hearing the voice again. The demon's whisper.
"You see how they look at you now? You see how they fear you? You were meant for this."
Every time I tried to ignore it, it grew louder. Stronger. The mark on my wrist would glow when I used my powers, and sometimes, it wouldn't stop glowing even after I was done.
Then the dreams began.
In them, I stood in a vast desert, surrounded by shadows that bowed before me. A throne of obsidian rose from the sand, and when I sat on it, I saw the galaxy itself bend in submission. My father kneeled at my feet. My mother turned away in shame.
And the voice whispered, "This is what you deserve."
When I woke, I'd find cracks forming on the walls, energy leaking from my hands. I could feel it eating at me—slowly, gently, like a patient predator.
The more power I used, the less I slept. The less I slept, the less I felt.
Then came the day I lost control.
A sparring match. One of Father's captains challenged me—mocked me in front of others. Said my strength was unnatural. Said I'd never be a true warrior. I didn't even remember drawing my blade. One swing—and he was gone. His body fell in two halves before I realized what I'd done.
The silence that followed was deafening. My father's face was pale. My mother looked broken.
"Veronica!" she screamed.
I stood there, trembling, my hands dripping with red light. "He mocked me…" I said softly. "He deserved it."
Father turned away. "Get her out of my sight."
That was the moment I knew. There was no going back.
That night, the demon appeared again, this time in the mirror. Her smile was cold, sharp.
"See? They fear you now. You are becoming what you were meant to be."
I wanted to deny it. I wanted to scream. But when I opened my mouth, her voice came out instead of mine.
"I am what they made me," it said.
And I believed it.
Scene 3: I am Free
The first time I felt him return to Mars, it wasn't through my eyes. It was through the demon.
It stirred. The black fire in my veins pulsed, whispering, He's here.
Marcus.
My little brother. The one who once followed me everywhere. The one whose smile reminded me of everything I lost. The one who now stood against me.
The fortress walls trembled as I rose from my throne. My generals knelt, waiting for orders. But I heard nothing. Only his energy—the faint rhythm of light threading through the chaos outside Val'Tor. His power called to mine like a heartbeat trying to wake the dead.
The demon's voice hissed in my mind. End him before he ends you. His light will destroy us both.
I closed my eyes. For a brief second, I saw our mother's face—Alexandra's soft eyes, the same ones Marcus inherited. And for that brief moment, I hesitated.
The demon hated hesitation. The pain it unleashed tore through my body like molten glass. I screamed and the walls cracked under my aura. Flames burst from my back, wings of corrupted energy unfurling across the sky.
"Veronica!" Lyra's voice echoed from the horizon.
And then I saw them.
Marcus, standing on the scorched red plain, blue lightning coiling around him like a storm. Lyra by his side, blades drawn, her golden aura burning bright against the crimson air.
The sight made me tremble—not from fear, but from something worse. Shame.
The demon whispered again, its voice dripping with malice. He abandoned you. They all did. He chose them over you. Prove you are the heir of Mars, not its failure.
I let the rage rise. "So, you finally came back," I said aloud, my voice echoing across the battlefield.
Marcus looked up at me, his expression calm but heavy. "I didn't come to fight you."
"Then why bring her?" I pointed at Lyra, my tone venomous. "You think she'll save you? You think she can understand what I've been through?"
Lyra stepped forward, her tone firm. "We didn't come to fight. We came to save you."
"Save me?" I laughed. It came out broken, manic. "You think I need saving? I command legions, Lyra! I am the Queen of Val'Tor!"
The demon inside me purred. Good. Let them see what you've become.
Marcus took a cautious step closer. His aura shimmered faintly, a calm sea against my raging storm. "You were never meant to rule through fear, Veronica. You're stronger than this thing inside you."
Something snapped. The name "Veronica" didn't sound like mine anymore. It sounded like an insult.
"Don't speak to me like you know me!" I screamed, and the ground cracked beneath my feet. My aura surged outward, shattering the terrain and sending a storm of fire toward them.
Lyra shielded herself with a golden barrier, while Marcus dashed through the flames, his blue energy slicing through the smoke. He appeared in front of me faster than I could react, grabbing my wrist mid-swing.
"Stop!" he shouted.
Our auras clashed violently. Blue and red. Light and corruption. The collision sent waves across the battlefield, melting rock and bending air.
But I didn't stop. The demon howled in my head, Kill him before he purges you!
I struck again, faster, harder. "You left me!" I screamed between blows. "You left me to rot in Father's shadow!"
Marcus blocked one strike, his expression torn. "You pushed everyone away, Veronica! You let that thing feed on your pain!"
His words cut deeper than his strikes.
Lyra called out, "Marcus! Her energy's unstable—she's losing control!"
"I'm not losing control!" I shouted, and released a blast that hurled Marcus backward. The shockwave knocked Lyra off her feet. My vision blurred, half red, half black. The demon's laughter filled every corner of my mind.
Marcus rose slowly, bleeding from his arm but still standing. "You think this is strength? This isn't you."
"Don't pretend you understand me!"
"I do," he said quietly. "Because I saw what Father did to you. And I hated him for it."
My heart stuttered. The demon growled. Lies. He's manipulating you. He always envied you.
Marcus took another step closer. "You weren't weak, Veronica. You were alone. And I should've been there."
The flames faltered. For a second, my aura dimmed. I felt something—a faint pulse of warmth trying to reach me.
"No…" I whispered. "No, stop it."
Lyra's aura glowed brighter, amplifying Marcus's light. Together, their energies intertwined, forming a wave that pressed against mine.
The demon screamed in rage, its voice distorting the air. Enough!
I fell to my knees, clutching my head. The black fire in my veins surged violently, fighting to stay. The world around me dissolved into chaos. Half of me wanted to fight Marcus; the other half wanted to beg him to kill me.
"Veronica!" Marcus's voice echoed through the storm. "You're stronger than this darkness!"
The demon roared inside me, forcing me to rise, my hands trembling. My voice layered with its own. "You can't save me! I am beyond redemption!"
Marcus's eyes glowed. "Then I'll share mine!"
He placed his palm on my chest, and a surge of light erupted. The explosion tore through the battlefield, blinding everything in gold.
For a moment, I couldn't breathe. The demon shrieked, thrashing as light flooded every vein in my body. I saw flashes—my mother smiling, Marcus as a child holding my hand, our family before the war.
No! the demon screamed. You need me!
"No," I whispered, tears streaming down my face. "I need peace."
The light consumed everything.
I remember falling to the ground, gasping for air, my body shaking. The world felt quiet for the first time in years. When I opened my eyes, I saw Marcus kneeling beside me, exhausted, his hand still glowing faintly.
The demon was gone.
Lyra stood behind him, her expression soft, relieved.
Marcus smiled faintly. "Welcome back, sis."
I broke down. Years of hate, regret, and guilt poured out of me as I clung to him, sobbing uncontrollably. "I hurt so many people, Marcus… I hurt you."
He held me tighter. "Then start healing them. Start with yourself."
The red sky above Mars finally began to clear, the twin suns breaking through the clouds for the first time in decades. I looked up, feeling their warmth touch my face.
For the first time since I was a child, I felt alive.
And for the first time in my life, I whispered the words I had long forgotten how to say.
"I'm sorry."
Marcus nodded, eyes filled with tears. "You're free now."
As I looked toward the horizon—toward the city I once ruled through fear—I realized the truth. The war that consumed me was never with the world.
It was always within me.