Rosalind launched forward, boots pounding steel. Gravium flared at her fingertips, half-step, half-flight, each tether chaining the next. The encased metal around her tightened, clamped by each tug; her shoes momentarily glided the walls, her sight a blur as she screamed down the vents.
She had to hurry; she had to defy time itself. Travelling from the top of the ship to the bottom, a task that would take minutes when she had seconds.
Her core stuttered, heat surging through her veins, breath like fire against her lips. She knew the cost. Knew what overclocking did.
But she did it anyway.
The tether burned. Her body lurched, weightless for a second—then the impact. Steel warped beneath her boots, bones groaning, metal weeping under her momentum.
"You're running out of Hermarite," snickered Echo.
Too busy flinching to listen, Rosa burst into a corridor, the Voidium so thick she struggled to identify air from particles, the gloomy window reflecting the fog in a glitter. And with a different surge, feeling bone jut out her shin, she amplified her blood cells. Like some gooey plastic, her melted skin reshaped, smoothed and healed.
But the Hermarite stuttered momentarily; the sensation was like attempting to throw up, her insides wanting out, yet her reserve was empty. She coughed, her breath burning her lips.
"I told you," said Echo.
Rosa's fangs clenched, her eyes watering from just walking. But she had to run. Broken half-healed bone aside, she needed to hurry. Quivering a breath, her core switched back to Gravium, and she hopped. The gemstone fixtures cried, the rivets protesting against her weight. Keep going, keep running. She had done worse; she had endured far, far worse. She refused to look down to see what she knew. It would be a miracle ever to walk normally again. Well, at least without pulling the whole thing out and realigning it.
"I don't see why you're in such a rush." Said Echo. The carbon ghost grinned—the image of Rosa's lips curling in such twisted glee. "You act like he is gonna die."
"No", Rosa cried, her lip curling against the grit. The pain was too much for even her to hide, "it's far worse than that."
The ghost seemed to smile at that, smile in spite of her pain, despite everything she knew. "And whose fault is that?"
Rosa snarled and flared the little Solelite she had left, the voidium hissed back, and Echo's grin flickered, but no matter how hard she pushed, the fragment remained—staring fully awake.
"You're running dry, sweetheart. Why fight it?" The woman said, her bravado pushing through, her eyes drooling at the possibility of taking over. "Let me do it for you; I'm better at it; I can fix all your problems. Give me your body already."
Humouring the cow was a waste of time, but without a deterrent, the inner fragment twisted, her joy evident. The woman's fingers counted each strand Rosa had hold of. The grip, the control Rosa had, fading.
"You were a god, once. Do you remember?
The Demon General.
They feared you. They obeyed you.
And now? You run, you beg, you break—
All for a man who will never love you the way I do."
Rosa flinched. What was worse, losing Marshal to the same thing that haunted her? Or the fact she considered that power once ago? Rosa could feel Echo's fingers, cold and ghostly, pressing toward her core—an impossible sensation that made her tail churn. She shook her head, but the fragment refused to retreat.
"Power, authority and the means to get it," Echo said, her voice soothing, calm, intoxicating. "Just. Hand. It. Over!"
Then, like a slap to the approaching demon, a voice bounced around the fog, the figure distorted in a realm of shadows, the Voidium games playing with her senses.
"Open, Open, Open, why won't you-" the voice said.
Identifying the woman. Rosa pushed Echo aside and greeted the woman.
"Lady Whitfield,"
The foul noble turned to face her with eyes like a frantic ghost, "Lady-"
Rosa cleared her throat.
The woman bowed, "Ah, General Sylvain!" she corrected, "What brings you here-" she stuttered. "Urm… I mean. You can go as you wish, General. How may I help you?"
The gaudy Mongal tilted her head and stared at her feet, her fingers shuffling slightly. Rosa's unflinching gaze inspected the con woman, the rat that sold her a scrawny Valkar, for a shard of Obsidium no less.
"Erm, General?" the woman asked, her horns shaking now.
Rosa licked her fangs, the hunger panging up her throat.
"Drink her and be done with it." Said Echo, "How long has it been since-"
Rosa stepped forward, but Echo grabbed her, the inner demon like an animal dribbling over its prey. "Do it; imagine the taste, the power."
Rosa frowned; The hunger that laced her lips and the throb filled her lions, a ridiculous combo, a desire that Echo no doubt howled on—the curse of being a half vampire, half succubus.
But Rosa narrowed her fangs, her heat rising. How much time would drinking the woman give her? No doubt a short burst, then there was the taste, blood like aged wine. Plus, her body looked more plastic than skin; the layers of bark ashed, she was no doubt experienced—abit, a little fake.
Rosa's tail curled; she needed to confirm her suspicions first. She can't get info from a dead woman.
"Hand me your purse," Rosa demanded.
Whitfield looked up, "I-" her words cut short as blue eyes met gold.
In a second, the shiny leather was proffered before her, the bulging sack an ugly, glittered attempt to gloat about wealth. Rosa snatched the thing and stole the ruby shards inside. Her fangs crunched the glass, her reserve filling as she swallowed.
"You're only delaying the inevitable." Said Echo,
Rosa kicked her foot, hoping the bone would magically loosen enough to heal properly and surged. The flood of new blood cells sparked a flame red in her veins, her body glowing slightly.
Echo purred, "I can do more than fix; I can make you run."
Wincing, Rosa finished surging. It would do for now; the faint limp where the cracks formed was annoying, but it was the best she could do on the fly. Better yet, taking a breath, she took her emotion back; with a churn of her core, her hunger stomped out, the sickness of fucking bark lingering in her mind. One of these days, she needed to find a mate to satisfy her desire.
"Why pick one," said Echo, "when we could have a harem, a sea of flesh and pleasure."
Slapping the fragment back to mist, Rosa pocketed the rest of the gemstones.
"Urm," Whitfield said, her eyes stuck on her lost purse like a child who lost their candy.
Unflinching, Rosa glared at the woman. "Where is it?"
Jumping, Whitfield immediately pulled out an Obsidium stone, "I apologise, I-"
Rosa slapped the stone away; she wasn't interested in such shite; what she really wanted to know was—
"Where is the ID card? The girl didn't have it on her."
Her experiment failed, and the resources she had to pull to create that syringe were wasted, all because of a con woman. She needed to develop more Inquisitors; Archdemons were not enough anymore.
Whitfield froze, doing her best to avoid eye contact, "I don't-"
Slapping her tail, Rosa flared Gravium and tethered the woman's jewel-laced horns to the ship's exterior anchor. Then yanked. The woman flew in a scream, her back cracking the window. One more push and she would be gone, a spec splattered on the side of a warship.
Rosa increased the tension, and the glass splintered with each level.
"I'm sorry," Whitfield scrambled at the window frame, her barked fingers scratching steel. "Please. I don't know what-"
Rosa held her finger up and let Gravium fill her blood, her arm glowing in a wave of Gravity-distorting purple particles.
"You're going to tell me, or-" Rosa moved her arm, the glass cracking.
"Alright! ok," Whitfield cried, "Please, it's in my pocket, and I beg of you."
Snapping her finger, she reversed the tether, and the woman fell to her knees, the distortion dissipating.
"Hand it over," Rosa said.
Whitfield held a glare; staring up with all the deviance of a beast would do anything but what told. Was that protectiveness she saw? A woman who sold her supposed daughter was protective? The thought curled Rosa's lips, and she couldn't help but laugh.
Her composure waned, her throat chuckling at such audacity—this pathetic woman scrambled to protect a girl she'd already sold. As if a mother's love could be something you turned on and off like coin. No. Rosa pressed her core. Love was as false as the devil himself and needed stamping out.
"The girl is dead," Rosa said, half reflecting on the words she once said to such a demon. "Now, hand it over."
"Dead?" Amara whispered, her barked hands trembling. "You said—you said you'd give her back!"
"Doesn't this feel familiar?" Echo purred. "Like mother, like daughter."
Snapping her fangs, Rosa punched the old woman. "Don't pretend to care now! You fucking sold her." Blood boiled in her fangs, her hunger, her cravings tickling her tongue, "You're no mother!"
Echo grinned, the spectator enjoying the show, "Why do I feel like I've seen this before?"
Ignoring her, Rosa watched the Mongal crawl, her broken cheek spluttering tears. "You promised, you promised…" the woman repeated.
Having enough of this foul bitch, Rosa flared Gravium, her eyes watching for gravitational tethers. And, like she thought, a condensed line flickered in the woman's heel. It's not exactly the best place to store such an important item. Rosa pulled, and Amara tripped, her feet literally pulled from under her. Her fangs let out a wail as she attempted to grab the card.
But just amplifying her surge, the glass shot into her finger like a bullet. The purple hue caught her attention first: a Gravium ID. The sensation of the weightless material anchored her, the heavy realisation of rank sinking in.
"Oh. Oh, Hell."
Her fingers curled around the Gravium ID. Lorelai Violette.
His name. His blood. His legacy.
Voltite shocks hammered her skull.
His calm smile. His hand on her shoulder.
"What have you broken this time?"
Her breath hitched.
She had killed the last piece of him.
She killed his daughter. His bloodline. The man who fought for her when no one else would.
Echo purred. "So much for being the hero."
Rosa swallowed bile. She wanted to scream, to burn every shard of Gravium in her core until there was nothing left of her. But there wasn't time for that. She could atone later—if atonement was even possible.
She had committed treason and butchered everything she had been fighting for these past years. In fact, she never asked for a name; she never tried to clarify her identity. It's her fault. How could she look Edric in the eye and call herself a knight? She was a stain to such wisdom, such sacrifice he made.
"I—" said Amara, "Edric promised me— "
Rosa shunted her sight at the woman, the woman that sold royalty, true fucking royalty. No, if anyone is a heretic, it's her.
Echo howled as Rosa's arm rose, a grin forming on both fragment and her lips. To have treated such a person like a toy or a product, the punishment is death. Echo spun her core, an overwhelming surge crackling her skin.
"DO it! Kill HER!" Echo screamed.
"Now, now, I wouldn't want to interrupt—"
A pause.
"—But I think you're about to make a mess."
Lucien's scent hit her first—honeyed, sickly sweet.
Then, his voice.
Smooth. Slow. Knowing.
That damned grin.
"Lucien," said Rosa.
"As much as I love those legs of yours," Lucien said, stepping from the fog, "I'd think twice about murdering the tree."
"Tree?" Amara snapped. "Who the--"
A green arc of Voltite sparked from Lucien's fingers, snapping Amara's words into a slur. He turned to Rosa with a slow smile, his half-buttoned shirt infuriatingly casual. He brushed hair, a silk she could lose her fingers in.
"Hey," Echo said, "why did you stop-"
Lucien flicked a surge of Solelite, echo's voice silencing instantly.
"Now that we have some quiet," he drawled, flashing a slow, knowing grin.
That blasted thing that always made her tail coil.
Everything he did made her… well, she wasn't sure, honestly.
"Weren't you meant to be watching my brother?" she asked.
He frowned, "Always shop with you," retracting his touch, he corrected his shirt, the skin disappearing. She had never met such an erotic man; even with clothes, she felt something, but Lucien's idea of commitment was as solid as the Voidium that swirled them. But feeling that stare, her tail swaying, she didn't want that anyway.
Clearing her throat, she stirred her voice, "Why are you not with him? I explicitly told you— "
"Your experiment worked," Lucien said, "Lorelai and Marshal are."
Amara gasped, rising to her knee, "Lorelai? Is she?"
Rosa, this time, zapped the woman, the slap of horns hitting in a thud.
"Continue," Rosa said.
"They are alive," Lucien said, "but… I fear not for long."
Rosa's tail dropped at the words. Her hand squeezed his wrist, her core ready to ignite. "What are you saying?" she demanded, her voice sharp enough to cut through the fog. "What's happened to Marshal?"
"If you know anything about the dragon slayer, you know how he got that name. Or should I call him the demon slayer?" he squeezed her fingers, stopping her tremble, "You need to hurry."