The arena was carved from grey stone, wide as a coliseum, and glowing faintly with streaks of molten light.
I stood among ninety-nine other Nephilim girls, my heart pounding as their shadows rippled across the cracked floor. The scent of magma and ash filled the air.
At the far end, Viridis floated above them, her wings half-spread like the edges of a storm. "Today," she said, her voice echoing through the ring, "you will learn your first true lesson. To survive on Earth, you must look human. Not merely mimic them, you must become them."
The crowd of demons that had gathered in the balconies above hissed and murmured. Some chuckled darkly, betting on which of the recruits would survive the trial.
Viridis turned slowly. "You have two chances to master the Siren Sun's Trick, the art of beauty. Fail both… and the Abyss will reclaim you and use your blood for replenishment"
My stomach twisted. I clenched her hands, the faint bandages around my nose still aching.
Across the ring, I spotted him, the male Nephilim bully, the one who had struck me days ago.
His arms were folded, lips curved in a smirk that made her pulse flare with anger.
One by one, the girls stepped forward.
The first Nephilim breathed deeply, whispering the incantation Viridis had taught them.
Her skin shimmered, hair lightening into golden curls, eyes blooming a vivid blue. Gasps followed, she looked stunning. Viridis nodded approvingly.
"Next."
The second tried and failed, her transformation warped halfway, leaving her eyes too dark, her teeth too sharp. Two demons seized her immediately.
"No...wait..." she cried, but her voice was drowned by a sharp hiss. A cold wind tore through the arena, and when it passed, she was gone. Only her echo remained. Her blood splattered, vaporizing before it even reached the ground.
My heart hammered. Around her, whispers rose. She's gone… they erased her…
Viridis's gaze swept over them like a blade. "Next!"
Dozens followed. Some succeeded, others vanished in bursts of crimson light.
By the time my turn came, the floor beneath my feet was slick with shadows that moved like oil.
I stepped into the ring.
Viridis's voice rang out. "You, half-born, Serath's chosen. Let's see if your face is worth saving."
I looked up at Serath. She hissed at me, a sign not to fail.
A ripple of laughter broke out among the watching demons. The bully Nephilim's smirk deepened; he mouthed the word fail.
I ignored him. My chest rose and fell with slow, steady breaths.
You can do this.
I closed her eyes. The words of the incantation burned faintly on her tongue as I whispered them.
A soft light flickered over my skin, too dim, too faint. My reflection in the air shimmered, then broke apart like shattered glass.
Nothing.
The crowd laughed.
Behind me, I felt it, the shadow of a demon moving closer. The sound of claws dragging against stone. Its breath was cold against my neck.
"Second chance," Viridis said simply, leaning back in her throne.
I swallowed hard, lifted my chin, and tried again. My blood wasn't going to feed this cruel place.
Focus. Calm.
The light returned, brighter this time, curling around my limbs like ribbons. My features softened, my skin taking on a faint, human glow. It wasn't perfect, my eyes still held the faint silver gleam of the Abyss, but I managed to hold it.
The demon behind me halted, its claws inches from my throat.
Viridis tilted her head. "Acceptable."
A breath escaped my lungs. Relief, trembling and sharp.
I looked up at Serath again, this time she threw her eyes away from me.
But then Viridis added, "Barely. You will join the Repeating Class."
My shoulders fell. Around me, the other Nephilims whispered. The bully smirked again, giving me a slow, mocking bow.
Viridis continued, "The repeating class will undergo corrective lessons. I advise you not to fail them."
Everyone knew what that meant, punishment disguised as education.
As I stepped back to the line, I brushed my sleeve across my lips, catching the faint trace of blood that had escaped from my nose. My heart burned with quiet rage.
You'll see, I thought, staring at the bully. You'll all see.
Human Realm: Nightfall.
Rain splattered softly against the mansion windows. The house was quiet except for the squeak of a mop gliding over marble.
Little Lura, no older than five, dragged the mop across the floor, her arms trembling from exhaustion. She'd only arrived the previous day, drenched in the rain and assigned a room in the abyss.
Her curls stuck to her damp forehead, and the bucket beside her sloshed with cold water that bit into her tiny hands.
Across the hall, Layra sat lazily on a sofa, flipping through a glossy magazine. "You missed a spot," she said without looking up.
"I… I already cleaned there," Lura murmured.
Layra's tone sharpened. "Then do it again. Until it shines. White as snow" she was armed with an evil grin.
The child swallowed a small sob and obeyed. The marble tiles were gray, dull and porous, no matter how hard she scrubbed, they could never turn white. Still, she tried.
Layra's eyes drifted toward her, narrowing faintly. "You should be grateful," she said.
"You have a roof over your head. Food. That's more than your mother ever earned."
Lura paused, her tiny shoulders stiffening. "My… my mother?"
Layra's smile was cold. "A silly woman. Didn't know her place."
The child said nothing. Her small fingers gripped the mop tighter.
She didn't know why, but every time Layra spoke that way, her chest hurt.
As if some part of her remembered something soft, warm, and loving but it was gone.
Outside, thunder rolled.
Layra sighed. "You're too slow. Hurry up before my husband comes home."
At that, Lura lifted her gaze toward the tall staircase where Conner's footsteps sometimes echoed. She'd seen him only a few times always distant, always quiet but something about him felt strange and sad.
Maybe he missed someone too.
Back in the Abyss, I sat alone in the Repeating Class chamber, a circular hall lined with mirrors that reflected not faces, but flaws.
Every time she looked into one, I saw myself through the eyes of her failures, weak, unworthy, broken.
A chain of glowing script wound around her wrists, humming with dark energy. Whenever her focus drifted, it burned.
Viridis's voice echoed from above. "You will repeat until your illusion becomes truth. Pain is a fine teacher."
My body trembled, but her eyes burned with quiet defiance.
"Then I'll learn," she whispered.
Somewhere in the darkness, the bully's laughter echoed, low, mocking, cruel.
I closed my eyes. Lura, she thought. Wait for me. I'll find you again. It was her only consolation, the strange feeling that she had a daughter named Lura somewhere.
And in the human world, as if hearing her mother's silent promise, Lura looked up from the mop and whispered to no one, "Mama? Are you still alive?"
The wind outside sighed through the window cracks, carrying the faintest echo from the Abyss.