Darkness swam before Canya's eyes, thick and suffocating like ink poured into water. The silence was broken only by the slow, rhythmic drip of water echoing somewhere deep within the cavern, a monotonous counterpoint to her pounding heart. Her body ached all over, a dull, pervasive throb, but one pain screamed above the rest.
Her left leg.
She stirred, biting back a groan that threatened to escape, and forced her gaze downward. The sight made her stomach churn, a bitter acid rising in her throat.
Blood oozed from deep, ragged gashes along her calf, the skin bruised a sickening purple and torn. The marks were unmistakable: teeth marks—long, jagged, and cruelly precise. Her breath came in shallow, desperate pants. A sharp, radiating heat pulsed from the wounds, throbbing in sync with her frantic heartbeat.
Canya lifted her head and scanned the dim cave. Rough, jagged walls rose around her, trapping her in an underground prison lit only by an eerie, sickly green bioluminescence clinging to the damp rocks. But it was not the darkness or the oppressive stone that made her body freeze, every nerve ending screaming a silent warning.
It was the beast.
Sitting mere feet away, the same monstrous creature that had attacked her before lounged with a terrifying, predatory calmness. Its red eyes shimmered with quiet amusement, a chilling intelligence burning within their depths. Its fanged mouth was slightly parted in a silent snarl, a predatory grin. It wasn't eating. It wasn't sleeping. It was waiting.
Waiting for her to wake up.
A low, involuntary whimper escaped her lips, swallowed by the cavern's silence. Panic clutched at her chest, a cold, tight fist squeezing the air from her lungs. Instinctively, desperately, she whispered, "Go. Please. Just leave me."
The beast cocked its massive head, a subtle, almost imperceptible tilt. Its eyes glimmered, a flash of malicious understanding. Worse—it looked utterly entertained by her terror.
Canya shifted her weight, gritting her teeth so hard her jaw ached, fighting against the searing pain in her leg. "Please... go," she hissed again, louder this time, trying to inject a bravery she didn't feel into her trembling voice.
The beast rose slowly, fluidly, its immense muscles rippling beneath matted, dark fur. It opened its cavernous mouth and let out a roar that shook the very stones of the cave, vibrating through Canya's bones.
The sound pierced her ears like shattering glass, a physical assault. The force of the aura that accompanied the roar slammed into her like an invisible wall. Her vision swam, the bioluminescent lights blurring into hazy streaks. Her body quaked, trembling uncontrollably. The air became thick, suffocating with overwhelming dread. She crumpled to her knees, unable to withstand the assault.
Her heart pounded so hard she thought it might burst from her chest. The beast was toying with her—reveling in her fear, savoring every drop of her terror.
I'm going to die.
The thought echoed in her mind, cold and absolute, like a whisper from the abyss itself. But then something inside her pushed back, fiercely, unexpectedly. A tiny ember of defiance, long buried under layers of fear and doubt, flared to life, hot and bright.
No. Not like this. Not here.
She took a shaky, gasping breath and, with a monumental effort, rose unsteadily to her feet. The cave spun, her injured leg screamed in protest with every strained movement, but she stood. Wobbly, but standing.
She balled her fist, knuckles white, and lunged forward, a raw, desperate act of rebellion, aiming a clumsy punch at the beast's dark snout. It swatted her aside with a flick of its massive paw, effortless, dismissive. Her knuckles stung from the brief, inadequate contact, a faint echo of the roaring pain in her leg.
Still, she didn't stop. The ember was a flame now.
She swung again, a backhanded slap, weak but defiant. Another effortless deflection.
A clumsy kick—caught and thrown, sending her sprawling across the damp stone floor.
Again and again she attacked, each move more desperate than the last, fueled by pure, unadulterated refusal to submit. But the beast countered with bored elegance, barely moving, as if mocking her futile struggle. Her movements slowed, growing sluggish. Her strength waned, draining from her with every beat of her heart. Her body, starved of energy and bleeding profusely, began to betray her, collapsing inward.
Panting, trembling, she collapsed to the floor, too weak to lift even a finger, her muscles screaming in surrender. The beast's low growl rumbled, a sound that resonated with cruel, silent laughter.
And then, with a swift, brutal swipe of its paw, it struck her.
Claws raked across her left cheek, tearing through skin and flesh. Her scream echoed, raw and piercing, through the cave as her head snapped sideways, the world blurring into a red haze. Blood flowed freely down her face, warm and sticky.
Canya curled into herself, trembling violently, a raw nerve exposed. The beast lunged again, this time biting down hard into her injured leg. Agony flared through her entire being, sharp, blinding, absolute. The world began to fade, the edges of her vision darkening like burnt paper, consumed by the encroaching black.
I'm dying.
She closed her eyes. Let it end. The pain, the fear, the agonizing failure. Let it all just cease.
Then—
"Canya. Use your power."
The voice was warm and familiar, gentle, but imbued with an undeniable, piercing urgency. It cut through the haze of pain and despair.
That voice...
"It's within you. Coiled. Waiting. Just like your mother."
A surge of heat, distinct from the burning pain, bloomed in her chest, radiating outwards, a sudden, surprising warmth. Her lips parted, barely audible: "I... I haven't learned. I don't know how."
"Then die," the voice said, suddenly, chillingly cold.
She gasped, a sharp, involuntary intake of breath.
The beast was lunging again, its massive head aimed straight for her face—
The third strike will kill me.
She screamed—not in fear, but in a sudden, furious defiance, a desperate roar of refusal—and reached inward, blindly, frantically.
Somewhere deep inside, beyond the pain and the suffocating panic, she felt it: a spiral of vibrant energy nestled in her belly. It was old. Ancient. Sleeping. But undeniably there.
Wake up.
With everything she had left, with a will she didn't know she possessed, Canya tapped it.
The world exploded.
The beast howled in mid-air, its monstrous form seizing violently as a blinding pulse of golden-violet light blasted outward from Canya's body. The raw force knocked it backward, tearing it from its lunge. It hit the cold stone floor with a sickening thud and rolled, twitching and spasming, foam flecking at its jaws, its eyes wide with bewildered agony.
Canya, now glowing faintly with gold and violet hues that swirled like an internal nebula, trembled. Her eyes were wide, her breath ragged, but the light was steady, strong.
She turned.
Standing at the mouth of the cavern, silhouetted against the faint glimmer from the outside, was Samantha, her aunt, her face stern but etched with profound pride. A familiar blue scarf fluttered around her shoulders like a living banner, catching the ethereal light. Her hand lowered slowly, signaling the end of a spell, a silent acknowledgment of Canya's triumph.
"You see," Samantha said, stepping forward, her voice resonating with a quiet power. "Your mother's gift runs strong in you."
Canya collapsed back to the ground, the raw energy fading, tears leaking freely from her eyes—tears of pain, of relief, of disbelief.
"I thought... I was dead."
"You almost were," Samantha said, kneeling beside her, her gaze piercing yet gentle. "But you chose to fight. That matters. It matters more than you know."
The beast groaned behind them, a low, guttural sound. It was alive, but barely, its monstrous body wracked with tremors.
"What... what is that thing?" Canya asked, her voice weak but steadying.
"Something old. Something meant to test you," Samantha replied, her eyes glittering with an ancient knowledge. "It's not done yet. But neither are you."
Canya coughed, a shiver running through her. "I don't think I can stand."
"You won't need to. Rest now. I'll keep watch."
Canya let her eyes drift shut. The pain was still there, a dull throb in her leg and cheek, but it was bearable, distant. The paralyzing fear had faded, replaced by a strange, exhilarating weariness. In its place was something new. Something profound.
Power.