The Garden at Dawn
Jean brought Delilah into the mansion's gardens just as the sun began to rise. The dew clung to the grass, and the world was hushed, as though waiting.
"This is where we'll start," Jean said. Her voice was calm, steady—the voice of someone who had guided countless students through their storms. "No enemies, no training drones. Just you, and the space inside your own mind."
Delilah folded her arms. "And if I don't want to open that door?"
Jean's eyes softened. "Then the door will open on its own, when you least expect it. That's more dangerous."
For a long moment, Delilah said nothing. Then, reluctantly, she sat cross-legged on the grass. Mausgrau watched from a distance, tail twitching nervously.
"Close your eyes," Jean instructed. "Breathe. Don't think of your power. Think of yourself. Who are you, beneath it?"
Delilah obeyed—hesitantly. Darkness filled her mind. At first, there was nothing. Then images began to form.
Flames devouring cities. Seas boiling. The crack of a god's spear—Odin's face contorted in rage. And at the center of it all: herself, the nameless man, laughing as the world burned.
Delilah gasped, eyes snapping open, fire crackling in her palms. Jean held up a hand, steady, calm. "It's alright. It's only a memory. Breathe."
Delilah's chest rose and fell. Slowly, the flames faded.
"You see?" Jean said softly. "Your emotions aren't the enemy. They're signals. Rage tells you you've been wronged. Fear tells you you want to survive. Hope tells you you want to change. You don't need to kill these feelings—you need to learn their language."
Delilah's voice cracked as she whispered, "And if I can't?"
Jean met her eyes, unflinching. "Then the fire will consume everything you care about. Including you."
For the first time, Delilah didn't argue. She only lowered her head, whispering a promise to herself: I will not burn again.
---
Meanwhile…
Across the world, in a fortified government compound, Helena and the three sisters stood before a briefing screen. The room hummed with tension as an agent slammed a folder on the table.
"This isn't just about raids, thefts, or terror strikes anymore. We've intercepted communications between Serpent leaders."
The screen flickered to life, showing maps, coded transmissions, and ancient symbols.
"The Black Serpents aren't just gathering weapons. They've found a way to harness something older, deeper. Their goal isn't conquest. It's destruction. They want to erase this world… and build a new one from the ashes."
Helena's eyes narrowed, her fists clenching. Beside her, the sisters exchanged grim looks—electromagnetic sparks dancing, fists tightening, legs vibrating with restless speed.
For a moment, the room was silent. Then Helena's voice cut through like steel.
"Then we don't have time to waste."
The war for survival had only just begun.