A sound like splintering glass echoed in her mind. It was simple, alien, yet unmistakably hers. She smiled as a chuckle rumbled on her lips.
It was amusing. It's amusing that she had attempted to fit in. It's humorous how she tore herself apart to atone for her actions. Just end it already. Go fuck another princess. She was tired; she merely wished to rest. Was that too much to ask? Too much to desire? Why did everything always seem to happen to her? Why must the world punish her and her alone?
So she laughed, staring down those who abused her, her lips cackling, her voice howling at Edric's hands.
The thing wore her father's skin so well, so convincing.
But who cared what corpse haunted her?
She didn't need him anymore.
"Come on, is that all you have? Is this the best you can muster? I can thrust harder than that."
Her lungs, her destiny, her will— for what? She had enough; if she couldn't surge, she would do something else.
Her raw and unrelenting laughter burned in her throat, but the voices didn't stop. Edric's sneer curled in her ears, his grip tightened on her throat, and something inside her cracked, splintering like glass. If they wouldn't end it, then she would force their hand. Her broken leg twitched, and she slammed it into his knee with everything she had left.
Feeling her lips drool, she watched the hunger surging in his eyes. That's right; get angry, get mad, and attack me. She kicked, kicked, and kicked, wailing, her breath disappearing by the second.
"Kill me, Daemon; end it for me! End my pitiful life."
"You're supposed to give up," Edric snarled. "Don't break yourself!"
Lore roared, thrashed, and dislocated every bone; she tore flesh, giggled, laughed, and ultimately gave in. Because only monsters possessed power, and a monster was what she had to become. She would do it herself and burn the world in her wake, lick the bones left after.
She howled, twisting her body and snapping limbs. She laughed, wild and unrestrained, the sound ripping through the room like a crackling fire. It clawed at the edges of her throat, broke her breath, and burned her lips.
The throne, the city, the princess—it all shattered.
And its wake revealed a corridor filled with reflective mist and a few shadows. Rosalind, Lucien, and Marshal were all attempting to stop something.
"Lore?" called Cass. "You're… awake?"
But Lore continued to laugh, leaving Cass's face pale and wan.
"Rosa!" the siren shouted. "Come here, come here." Cass stepped back, nearly clinging to the wall. "ROSA!" she yelled.
The entire group turned, all staring in horror as Lore smiled, a peal of laughter escaping from her lips, followed by steam, hot liquid steam. And in that moment, like a spark within her core, a reserve akin to a hidden strength she never realised she possessed flickered in her grasp.
And she pulled. No. She surged.
Ego caressed her vision as if someone had slotted into her skin, moulded into her blood, woven into her cells. No, she was Ego. And Ego was her.
"Embrace the fury," the voice whispered, "Embrace… us."
Gravium flared, thousands of tethers connecting every object, varying in thickness and saturation. It resembled a network of glass. Every gemstone, diamond, and shard glowed in her sight.
Reaching out, like grasping some forbidden fruit, she plucked one and, like a brick on a rubber band, a toolbox crashed into the wall, the glass exploding like a high-impact grenade. A smile crossed Lore's lips, a thrill she had craved and loved; oh, she would sell her soul to experience it.
It had taken a lifetime of being underestimated; it was a bloody grind, a slog. But now, it was simple. Why was she holding back? Why did she resist what she truly was?
She glanced at the Voidium creature, its fingers burning as the Daemon struggled to get close.
"Stop—STOP!" Edric's voice cracked, his grip faltering as the string around Lore's body burned colder. "You don't understand what you're doing!"
Lore tilted her head, a slow, unhinged grin spreading across her face. "Oh, I understand perfectly," she said, her voice steady and sharp. "Stop fucking me and get out."
Then, switching to Marshal, her eyes brightened. Like a puppet, she could track every limb, bone, and movement—his entire body, a blueprint of his Inquisitor nature. His bones were heavy and dense, his back jutting out tethers ready for fitting canisters.
But most of all, she noticed his core. A glass that beat next to his heart. A pump of power flowed through his whole system. A surge that he wielded, accompanied by a mess of modified lines, nests of wrong turns, and scrambled veins.
She frowned. It was no surprise; checking his heart rate was impossible, much like how he moved on a broken body like that. With more shrapnel in his skin than bones, he was a dead man walking, a corpse on the last threads of life. And she asked him to teach her; she relied on him as a wall, a force, reluctantly on her side.
He was strong—unyielding—but she could fix him. Rebuild, repair, and remake. Her tail fluttered, and her gaze was fixed on him and him alone. Rebuild, repair, and remake.
"You dare to rise against me," Edric snapped, "you are merely a girl, a whore in demon skin."
But dismissing the hissing ghost, Lore lifted her finger and pointed towards the Monarch.
Then pulled.
Despite her power, his diamond body was like an anchor against a sail; she lifted, her body shooting up from Gravium alone, her feet touching the slick tiles.
She stood, feeling her bones like powder beneath her skin. The bucket of knives was embedded inside her. Yet she didn't stop; she couldn't. She wanted it, wanted it more than anything. Her mind flared with plans, she downloaded books she had once read, analysed data, and compiled it—her mind spinning gigahertz of data.
"It's foolishness; you can't win. You have only one reserve—no second chances, no backup," the Voidium hissed. "It's hopeless. Just give up, princess."
Lore smiled; she was accustomed to being hopeless. She raised her other hand with maddening resolve, and—
Duel surged.
It was all or nothing, and she doubled down. The force, like a rocket, pulled her off her feet, tethered by his gleaming skeleton.
Just as he had once pulled her, she now found herself tethered to him. She soared, the musty bay nothing like the skies she had dreamed of; the moment was too brief to give her an authentic taste.
So she bared her fangs and tackled him. He couldn't criticise her; he had done it first. As she licked her lips and selected a delightful spot, she sank her fangs and surged. She would taste him instead.
Marshal screamed as her fingers and lips twisted and realigned the glass. Bone by bone, vein by vein. She sorted and pulled each one. Each while taking a deeper sip, a gulp, a drink.
She consumed him, the heat of his blood filling her lungs, her claws trembling as she pulled at his fragmented core and ran down his body.
Marshal howled, his body twisting against her, his veins pulsing with erratic surges of energy. Bone ground against bone as she twisted him back into place, his shattered skeleton realigning beneath her touch. Blood pooled between them, steaming as it mixed with the Voidium leaking from his wounds.
"Stop," he cried. His core flickered as his fingers pushed, but they were no match for her tether. "Stop fixing me." He begged.
Annoyed, she closed those sweet lips, sealing his talkative fangs; she kept going, the taste of his saliva wetting her fingers. She pressed closer, mixing blood. A glint of Hemarite came through, and a new reserve opened up.
She took it and healed her bones while she was at it. But like an architect, a master with a lifetime of crystalline knowledge, she knew how engines ran and how Inquisitor's pistons thumped cores.
"I'll rebuild you," she whispered, her fangs glinting as she surged again. "Stronger. Better. Mine."