Lilith was pale, blood slowly running down her knee. Her face, however, did not show the reaction Theron expected. There was no visible fear—only a terrible stillness.
In her mind, a single word detonated: "Die."
The world is unjust, she thought. Her parents had cursed her. Elara had betrayed her. And now, these men hunted her down to seal her away without even granting her the right to mourn. Hatred consumed her entirely—a black tide threatening to drown her.
Her body was motionless, betrayed by pain and the arrow. It was the perfect moment for surrender.
"Let me take control, my dear," Malus's voice came, smooth and tempting, feeding on the girl's fury. "I'll handle the escape. You can handle the grief."
Lilith exhaled softly—barely a movement. The Luminar Sentinels watched her with disdain and suspicion at her calmness. They expected tears, screams, or a surge of Shadow.
Her inner voice, however, was rational, cold, and entirely focused on survival.
"Even if I let you take control, what guarantees that I'll return? How will I know I'll come back to myself?"
The War General hesitated for a moment. There was no mockery this time—only the chill of pure calculation, the only assurance he could offer.
"I cannot take full and permanent control of your body, even if I wished to. Your Light is too strong a prison, and the Aether arrow weakened me," Malus admitted. "I will only open the portal—to get us out. One act, nothing more. The choice to return is always yours, Vessel. I merely need a safe passage."
Lilith knew he was lying about how simple it would be—but not about the limitation. The Shadow was weakened and needed her for the only magic that could keep them alive.
"Do it," Lilith thought, her voice a vow.
The smile that spread across Malus's face in her mind carried no joy—only the cold satisfaction of a General who had just taken command.
In the outer world, Lilith's still body trembled for an instant—and then she changed.
It wasn't a grotesque mutation, but a magnificent and terrifying transfiguration. The pale golden ring of Aether that had always flickered in her eyes was devoured by an abyssal black, turning her irises into bottomless voids. The contrast was breathtaking—the enviable beauty of her human face now framed by a chilling, steel-like calm.
Two small but unmistakable obsidian horns broke through her forehead, curving backward with lethal grace. Her skin took on a feverish glow, and the Black Mark on her arm erupted into dark, pulsing veins that throbbed with stolen, raw energy.
Grandmaster Theron, Lyra, Kaelus, and the other Elite Mages felt the shift immediately. A primal chill swept through the circle of Sentinels, who stared at Lilith's figure with frozen terror. She was beautiful and deadly—the pinnacle of profane power.
"Don't let her manifest!" Theron roared.
But it was far too late.
A wave of pure, uncontrollable Shadow erupted from Lilith's body—an explosion of demonic energy that struck the twenty lower-ranked Sentinels. It wasn't fire that hit them, but the sheer absence of everything. Their screams were smothered by the force of the surge, and within seconds, their bodies disintegrated into demonic ash, leaving behind a spreading trail of darkness across the rocky ground.