I felt it before I heard her.
Before her boots touched the stone.
Before the guards straightened.
Before the whisper of her name swept down the hallway like smoke on a battlefield.
Princess kali
Her mana didn't press against the world like Salem's.
It didn't blaze like fire, or steadied like Rōko's breath.
It disrupted.
Like she didn't belong in this world.
Like she was tearing little holes in the laws of magic just by existing.
Even the walls seemed to react — stone twitching in the edges of my manasight like it wanted to pull away.
The guards' outlines dimmed — not from fear. From weakness.
Their energy thinned. Their focus scattered.
Even mine — whatever little flicker I still had cracked at the edges.
How is that possible?
I've stood next to Lincoln. He moves faster than light itself.
He was stronger than her. Definitely.
But he didn't feel like this.
This was wrong.
No one should be able to twist the field like that. Not without spellwork. Not without limits.
And yet she walked through the corridor like the rules bent for her.
A ripple of awe, fear, and something else I hated — something like longing — surged through the room. A spell woven into her step.
Then the guards knelt.
All but one.
He hesitated. A flicker of doubt. Maybe his leg just cramped. Maybe he didn't see her clearly.
It didn't matter.
She paused.
And in that stillness, even the air held its breath.
She turned, slowly, and ran her fingers along his chest — from collarbone to stomach.
It was gentle.
It was horrifying.
His outline began to fade.
Mana drained out of him like ink in water. No resistance. No recoil.
His soul didn't scream. It just… evaporated.
When she reached the end of his chest, she let go.
And he collapsed.
Not dead, not exactly. Just hollow.
A husk. Skin and bones where power once lived.
I clamped down on my breath.
My cuffs rattled.
That's what she's going to do to me. Maybe.
No ritual. No dark circle. No need to tap into any forbidden tome or ancient spell.
"Bring her," Kali said. Her voice was like velvet laced with venom. "I'd like to see her before the draining."
And the guards moved.
Not because they were ordered.
Because they wanted to.
But than a hard knock came from below.
———
(Salem pov)
I saw her arrive.
From behind the burner log — half-buried in ash, its twisted trunk leaking smoke instead of sap — I crouched low, shadows curled tight around me like a cloak.
And then she stepped out of the carriage.
Even from this distance, even behind her retinue of armored devils and ceremonial guards, I felt it.
That pressure.
That presence.
Like reality itself hiccupped around her.
She didn't move like someone powerful — no flaring mana, no threats. Just… drifted.
Unshakable. Impossibly composed. Like a lie wearing the face of a goddess.
And all around her — the world weakened.
Devil soldiers stood taller in her presence, but their outlines flickered at the edges.
Mana stuttered around her feet. The field twisted. Like gravity forgot which way was down.
Even I felt it.
Something clawing at the edge of my thoughts, like nails dragging through my skull.
Worse, it was the bond.
Annabel…?
Nothing. Like yelling into water.
I could still feel her, but the connection bent sideways, fuzzy, distant.
Kali turned toward the outpost. Her guards parted without a word.
And just like that — she vanished inside.
I stood slowly. Pulled my cloak tighter over the devil armor.
The guards at the outpost door were barely paying attention — one picking at his teeth, the other talking about Kali's eyes.
Perfect.
I walked forward, head down, pace slow but certain.
When I reached the base of the stairs, one of them barked, "You lost?"
I lifted my head just enough. Let my voice curl low, measured. Cold.
"I'm here from the demon realm. They've sent me as reinforcement — part of the Blazewind pact. I was told to report before sundown."
The two looked at each other. Hesitation flickered between them.
One stepped closer. "Didn't hear anything abo..."
His head hit the dirt before he finished.
The other barely had time to blink before the second slice tore through his throat. A clean, diagonal cut — so fast the blood sprayed upward like a geyser.
Warm crimson coated my face. My second skin now.
My blade hummed as it dissolved back into shadow, coiling around my fingers like smoke with purpose.
I didn't breathe. Just stared at the blood on my hands.
Then I lifted my knuckles.
And knocked.
Hard.
The sound echoed through the metal, into stone, like a gunshot in the dead air.
A pulse. A signal.
I'm here.
And I'm not leaving without her.