The darkness swallowed her whole, thick and suffocating, like ink pouring into her lungs and choking out the light.
Seraphina couldn't see.
She couldn't move.
And yet—she was somewhere.
The silence around her wasn't empty—it whispered.
It clawed at the edge of her mind with ghost-like voices murmuring truths she didn't want to hear.
"You are the end."
"You are the beginning."
"You were never meant to live."
She spun around, but there was no floor beneath her feet, no sky above her, just endless black stretching like a grave with no bottom.
Something brushed past her shoulder—cold, breathless, and gone before she could scream.
Fear rose in her throat like bile, and her mark burned brighter on her skin, a blue-white fire slicing through the dark like a sword.
This is part of the trial, she reminded herself.
But it felt too real.
Too raw.
Too personal.
A light appeared in the distance—small, flickering, like a dying candle in a storm.
She moved toward it.
Every step she took was heavy, as if walking through grief and memories she hadn't yet lived.
The whispers followed her, louder now, more human.
She began to recognize the voices.
Her father's drunken rage, slurring curses.
Her mother's last scream.
Kael's voice begging her to run.
Seraphina covered her ears, but the voices poured into her anyway, like water through cracks.
Her knees buckled, and she fell—but the ground caught her, warm and pulsing, like the skin of something alive.
The light ahead grew brighter.
And then it exploded.
She found herself standing in the middle of a burned-out village.
Ash fell from the sky like cursed snow.
Buildings lay in ruin.
Bodies—some human, some wolf—were scattered across the broken earth.
She took one step forward and nearly choked on the smoke in the air, thick with blood and despair.
A little girl stood in the center of it all, her eyes wide, hollow.
Her face looked familiar.
Too familiar.
Because it was hers.
The child stared at her with a blank expression, blood dripping from her small fingers.
"I didn't mean to," the child whispered.
Seraphina's breath hitched in her chest.
She stepped closer, heart pounding like a drum in war.
"What is this?" she asked, but the wind stole her voice.
The child opened her mouth and screamed.
It wasn't a human sound.
It wasn't even a wolf's howl.
It was something older, something wrong.
Seraphina dropped to her knees, clutching her head as pain sliced through her skull.
The world cracked.
Flames roared to life around her, devouring the ash.
The little girl disappeared.
And a shadow rose from the smoke.
Tall.
Unholy.
Wearing her face—but with black, empty eyes.
The mark on Seraphina's arm pulsed violently, searing her skin like it wanted out.
The shadow smirked.
"You can't run from what you are," it said.
Seraphina tried to speak, but her lips wouldn't move.
She tried to turn, but her legs locked.
"You were born to destroy them," the shadow whispered. "Even the one you love."
Kael's face flashed in her mind—his eyes, his voice, his pain.
The shadow reached forward.
Its hand slid into her chest like smoke.
Seraphina screamed...
Seraphina's scream echoed through the void, but nothing answered it—only silence, eerie and absolute, wrapping around her like a cold shroud.
The shadow's fingers dug deeper, and though it was made of smoke and sorrow, she felt every inch of agony like fire etching her bones.
She wanted to fight.
She tried to lift her arms, but they were pinned down—not by force, but by fear that ran deeper than blood.
"You are not real," she croaked, barely able to recognize her own voice.
But the shadow laughed, and it sounded like her mother, crying on the night everything fell apart.
"I am the part of you that never stopped bleeding," it whispered.
The ground beneath her cracked, and flames licked up through the gaps, forming twisted symbols in a language she didn't know—but somehow understood.
Death.
Destiny.
Betrayal.
The words pulsed with power, seeping into her skin like poison wearing a crown.
Suddenly, she was in the forest again—but it wasn't the one she knew.
This one was twisted, corrupted, its trees black and charred like they'd been kissed by ancient evil.
And standing among them were wolves.
Massive.
Silent.
Watching.
But none had eyes.
Their faces were blank masks of bone and ash, and when they moved, the earth trembled like it feared them.
They circled her slowly.
She didn't run.
She couldn't.
Because something deep inside her—something hidden—was awakening.
A low growl rose in her throat, raw and unfamiliar.
The shadow reappeared in front of her, now wearing Kael's face.
His smile was cruel, his eyes like pits of endless night.
"You want to save him?" it asked.
She nodded, her fists clenched.
"Then kill him," it whispered.
And just like that, a sword appeared in her hand—black steel, glowing faintly with the same light as the mark on her arm.
"No," she said, the word tasting like defiance.
The wolves howled, not with fury, but with grief.
They began to collapse, one by one, as if her refusal drained their lifeblood.
The trees wailed, bending backward, their limbs cracking under invisible weight.
She ran.
Not away from the shadow—but through it.
It screamed as she passed, but it didn't follow.
Suddenly, she was in a room made of mirrors.
Hundreds of her reflections stared back—each one twisted.
One version of her had claws and blood-soaked lips.
Another knelt in chains, broken and sobbing.
One stood tall, crowned, with fire dancing across her eyes.
Seraphina turned in a slow circle.
"Which one am I?" she whispered.
A voice behind her said, "All of them."
She spun, and Kael stood there—real this time, or maybe another illusion.
But his eyes held pain.
"Will you let them decide who you are?" he asked.
Seraphina's heart ached.
She stepped forward, raising the sword.
Not at him.
At her reflection.
And she drove it through the glass.
It shattered with a scream—not hers—but something old and angry.
The room fell apart.
Light engulfed her, burning like truth.
The darkness vanished.
She dropped to her knees, gasping for air.
The rune circle was beneath her again, glowing faintly as if pulsing with approval.
Kael was standing at the edge, eyes wide with shock.
She was back.
But nothing felt the same.
The ground rumbled beneath them, just once.
Then a voice echoed—deep, commanding, ancient.
"She has seen her truth."
"And now," another voice said, sharper, female, "she must face what comes next."
Seraphina looked up—and saw two figures cloaked in silver mist standing at the circle's edge, their eyes glowing with the same cursed light as her mark.
"Who are you?" she asked, her voice barely a breath.
They didn't answer.
They only pointed behind her.
Seraphina turned.
And her breath caught in her throat.
Because standing there—alive, unharmed, and very much watching her—was the one person she had buried years ago.
Her mother.