The wind screamed across the desolate plains of Halmaris — the same land once called the "Eighth Sanctuary," now reduced to craters and molten fissures. The sky shimmered with faint cracks of light — remnants of the divine-demonic clash that had torn the heavens weeks ago.
Beneath that scarred sky, the operative base stood like a wound stitched shut — walls humming with containment seals, watchtowers crackling with barrier energy. Soldiers moved in silence, their faces pale, their eyes weary. Every man and woman carried the same look — exhaustion mixed with something worse. Fear.
And at the heart of it all stood Commander Yara Rhaen, her black coat swaying in the wind, her gloved hand clutching the hilt of her blade like it was the only thing keeping her steady.
Sid watched her from the shadows of the training yard.
Even from a distance, he could feel it — a pulse, faint but constant, radiating from her body. A heat that wasn't human.
He didn't want to believe it at first. But the mark he had seen days ago… the ember-shaped brand that burned faintly beneath her collarbone… it was real. And it was growing.
Yara turned suddenly, her gaze sharp as a blade. "You're staring, Sid."
He stiffened. "Just… making sure you're holding together."
Her lips twitched in a humorless smirk. "That's my line."
She turned back toward the horizon, where the faint shimmer of another reality fracture glowed in the distance. The soldiers behind her whispered as they worked — words that carried in the still air.
"Tainted."
"She bears the flame."
"She'll end up like the others."
Yara's grip tightened. A soft crack split the leather of her glove.
Sid heard the whispers too. He stepped closer, voice low.
"They're afraid. They think you—"
"I know what they think." Yara's tone was clipped, almost trembling beneath its hardness. "But they're soldiers. They'll obey as long as I stand."
Sid hesitated. He'd seen her command entire battalions without flinching. But now, there was something different — a faint tremor in her movements, a shadow behind her eyes.
He stepped closer. "The mark is spreading, isn't it?"
She froze. The faint glow beneath her collarbone flared like a heartbeat.
"You saw it?" she asked, voice quieter now, dangerous.
"Yes," Sid replied. "The same energy… it's like Velgrin's flame. You're—"
"Don't say it." Yara's hand shot out, gripping his collar with unnatural strength. For a brief instant, Sid saw her pupils ignite — a flash of molten red, gone as quickly as it came.
The soldiers nearby looked up, uneasy. Yara released him and turned away.
"You don't know what you're talking about, Sid."
"Then tell me," he said, tone firm. "Because if you don't, I can't trust—"
"Trust?" Yara laughed bitterly, cutting him off. "You think I trust anyone here? The organization, Lucien, those men who stare at me like I'm already dead?"
She looked at him then — truly looked — and her expression softened, if only for a heartbeat.
"Sid… you think you're the only one fighting a monster inside you? I fought mine long before you were chosen."
He frowned. "What do you mean?"
Yara turned away, her gaze drifting toward the distant ruins beyond the barrier. "Do you remember the War of Hal'Zirath?"
"Everyone remembers it," Sid replied. "Half the world burned."
"I was there," she said softly. "But not as a commander. As a weapon."
Sid's breath caught.
"I was one of the first to be branded," Yara continued, voice trembling with something like shame. "Not by Velgrin — by the gods' faction. They called it the Flame of Purity. They said it would protect us against the demonic taint. But it was the same power — only inverted. It burns the soul from within. I survived… but it never went away."
She unbuttoned her collar slightly, revealing the faint, glowing mark beneath her throat — a sigil of intertwined light and flame. It pulsed once, like a heartbeat.
Sid stepped back, instinctively. The energy felt too familiar — the same distortion that had tainted his own Blackbind Flame during the trial.
"So that's what it is…" he murmured. "Not corruption. Containment."
Yara gave a tired smile. "Containment. Control. Call it what you like. But every day, it grows a little stronger. Every night, I wonder when I'll stop being me."
Her voice cracked on the last word.
Silence stretched between them. The wind carried the faint hum of the containment fields, the whispers of soldiers pretending not to listen.
Sid finally spoke.
"You could've told Lucien. Maybe he could—"
"He doesn't need to know," she said sharply. "If he finds out, they'll lock me away. Like they did to you."
Sid clenched his fists. "Then let me help."
"You can't," Yara said, her eyes meeting his — fierce, defiant, yet full of pain. "You can't even help yourself."
That cut deep. Sid turned away, jaw tight.
But before he could respond, the alarms blared — a high, shrill tone echoing across the compound.
Lucien's voice boomed through the intercom:
"Reality fracture detected — eastern perimeter! Operatives to position!"
Yara drew her sword in one motion, flame flickering briefly along its edge. "We'll finish this later."
Sid hesitated. "Yara—"
She paused long enough to look back at him. "You see a monster when you look at me, don't you?"
Sid shook his head. "No. I see someone who's trying not to become one."
Something flickered in her expression — a mix of guilt and something unspoken.
Then she turned and ran toward the rising light at the edge of the barrier, shouting orders as she went.
Sid stood there for a long moment, the sound of alarms echoing in his skull.
The mark, her eyes, her fear — all of it pointed to one truth.
Velgrin's influence was no longer spreading through demons alone.
It was bleeding into them.
Into everything.