In the dim red glow of her chamberers, Naretha sat before a table covered with runes and cracked mirrors.
The air was heavy with the scent of burning myrrh, and somewhere deep below the floor, the rumble of the Abyss pulsed like a slow blood flow.
Her fingers trembled slightly as she reached for the Echre. The leather was cold and soft, its cover faintly shifting under her touch. Golden veins of script pulsed faintly on its surface each one connected to the life it chronicled.
The book whispered when she opened it.
"Shaoline's current state: active… injured… awakening process incomplete…
Her past life...
Do you want to continue?"
Naretha's heart clenched. The words stung more than she expected. She could almost see her daughter through the page, bruised, bleeding, alone.
She snapped the book shut. The whispering stopped.
"Not now," she murmured, her voice barely holding steady. "Not when I have a mission."
She slipped the Echre back into the dark shelf carved into the hairy wall. It hummed softly as if disappointed to be ignored.
From the doorway, a shadow stirred the demon messenger, his armor slick with oil and his face expressionless.
"Your orders, Neratha," he growled. "The Underward Duke demands obedience."
Neratha stood, adjusting her cloak. Her expression hardened. "Tell your Duke I'm not his pet. I obey only the hierarchy."
The demon's eyes flashed crimson, but he bowed stiffly. "Then obey this." He handed her a sealed command, a scroll written in blood.
She didn't bother reading it aloud.
She already knew.
Another errand. Another test. Another step away from her daughter.
As the door slammed behind her, the chamber fell silent again. Only the Echre breathe faintly on the shelf, alive, waiting, and whispering the name of the girl far away:
Shaoline… Shaoline…
Meanwhile, deep within the training citadel, I sat among the Nephilim recruits.
My head throbbed faintly, but the pain was dull now, wrapped neatly under a strip of pale, flexible skin that shimmered faintly like glass.
It wasn't ordinary bandage.
It was made from the sole-skin of a Fiend's foot, a healing relic for Nephilims soaked in ancient blood. Its texture was rough and warm, but under it, my nose had already begun to mend, I could feel it.
Viridis paced in front of the class. Her presence filled the room like a poison cloud, elegant and terrifying. Her topaz wings glimmered faintly under the torchlight, her voice a purr that cut through the murmurs.
"Lesson one," she began, her talons tracing slow circles in the air. "The art of disguise. Every Nephilim must learn to wear beauty like a blade."
The room fell silent. Even the cruel Nephilim who had attacked me earlier was still, his eyes fixed on our ruler.
Viridis lifted a hand. Her body shimmered. The green hue faded from her skin, and before their eyes, her wings vanished replaced by smooth, flawless flesh. Her demonic form melted away, replaced by a breathtakingly beautiful human woman. Her eyes turned sapphire-blue, her lips soft and pink, her hair golden and long.
Gasps filled the room.
"This," Viridis said in a melodic, human voice, "is the power of the Siren Sun's Trick. It bends mortal perception. It makes your enemies love you, even as you destroy them."
I leaned forward, fascinated despite myself.
My eyes traced every motion Viridis made the way the transformation rippled like sunlight on water, the faint pulse of magic behind it. Because, tricks in the abyss were more about mastering movements than relics and incantations.
The ruler's gaze flicked toward me.
"You. The new one."
I stiffened. "Yes, my Lady?"
Viridis's lips curved into a smile that wasn't kind. "You're paying attention. Good. You might survive the test."
She clapped her hands once. "Each of you will practice this spell tonight. Tomorrow, you'll be tested. Fail, and your form will collapse into something less… beautiful, 2 out of 500 of you will die today because of the test. Let's see who the winner are."
The word hung in the air like a curse.
The silver-haired Nephilim who had humiliated me earlier leaned back in his seat, a smirk playing on his lips. "Careful, little one," he whispered just loud enough for me to hear. "Some of us don't survive our first transformation. The soul burns from the inside."
I didn't look at him. My gaze remained locked on Viridis, determination lighting my bruised features.
Viridis waved her hand again, and the illusion faded. Her true form, horns, wings, and all, beast-like emerged once more.
"That is all for today," she said, her voice returning to its sharp, commanding tone. "Rest. The tests begin at dawn."
The recruits rose. Some were whispering, others sneering. I stood too, curious, rethinking what had just happened, feeling the dull ache in my ribs and the burn of the shame still lingering from earlier.
As I turned to leave, my reflection caught in one of the obsidian mirrors lining the wall. My bloodied bandage, tired eyes, and pale skin, none of it looked like the warrior I wanted to be.
But I saw something else too.
Beneath the pain, a flicker of fire, a strong resilience.
I touched the healing bandage gently. "If beauty is power," I murmured to her reflection, "then I'll master it. And then…"
Her eyes hardened.
"…I'll make them all remember my name."
Back in the lower realm, Neratha's footsteps echoed through the tunnels. My orders had led her toward the Maw Chamber, where demons whispered and the air always reeked of decay.
Her mind wasn't on the mission. It was on her daughter.
On that trembling voice, those wide eyes the day she was taken.
Be strong, my child, she thought bitterly. If you must walk through fire, then learn to command the flames. She wished she could reach out to her by heart.
The Echre would wait, but soon, she would open it again.
And what she found inside might decide whether she returned as mother… or as monster.