The storm pressed closer, swallowing the horizon until nothing remained but crimson haze. Memory Yurin raised his hand, and a thousand threads arched in unison, each sharp enough to carve the world apart.
The real Yurin steadied his posture, calm but taut as a drawn bow. Damien dragged himself upright, flame-wreathed fists trembling, while Evelyn tilted her head back with a laugh that sounded more like defiance than mirth.
But Clara… she wasn't focused on him.
Her fire crackled around her, brighter than ever, but woven into it pulsed faint strands of red. Threads inside her flames. Living, hissing, whispering.
She clenched her fists, trying to douse them, but the harder she resisted, the louder the whispers became. Accept us. Burn everything. Become him.
Memory Yurin's threads shot forward, a tidal wave of crimson meant to erase them all. Yurin's real self countered, unleashing his own threads to intercept, but the collision split the sky into shards of fire and shadow. The force knocked Clara back—until instinct took over.
Her wings snapped wide, fire exploding outward, her blade forming not from flame alone, but flame wrapped in threads. The sound it made wasn't a roar—it was a scream, half hers, half something else.
She didn't think. She slashed.
The crimson storm parted. Memory Yurin staggered backward for the first time.
Damien's eyes widened, blood running down his chin. "What the hell… Clara…?"
Evelyn's grin returned, sharper than ever. "Ohhh, look at you, darling. Becoming exactly what you fear. Isn't it beautiful?"
Clara trembled, staring at her own weapon, fire laced with writhing crimson strands. It pulsed in rhythm with her heartbeat. For a second, she thought it wasn't even hers anymore.
But there was no time to think.
Memory Yurin blurred forward, threads lashing like a storm of serpents. Clara raised her blade instinctively, the impact rattling her bones but holding. Sparks rained down like meteors. For the first time, she was matching him—not with pure flame, but with something that looked terrifyingly close to his own power.
The clash threw both of them apart. Clara skidded back, her wings leaving trails of fire, her body screaming with exhaustion. Memory Yurin only tilted his head, a slow smile stretching his face. Approval. Recognition.
And that was what terrified her the most.
Damien roared, unleashing everything he had, fire erupting in a volcanic blast that swallowed half the storm. The sheer force cleared a path, giving Yurin the opening he needed. His threads surged forward, binding his counterpart in a lattice of crimson that shook the air.
"Now!" Yurin's voice cracked through the chaos, sharp, commanding.
Clara didn't hesitate. Her wings flared, fire-thread blade raised high, and she drove herself into the storm. The blade cut through the memory's chest, searing threads apart, light erupting in a blinding explosion.
The storm shattered.
For a heartbeat, silence returned. The crimson sky dissolved, the battlefield collapsing into fragments of broken memory. The figure of Memory Yurin wavered, his body splitting apart into dust, threads dissolving into the void.
But before he vanished, his gaze locked with Clara's.
He didn't look at Yurin.
He looked at her.
And he whispered, only for her ears: "You carry me now."
Then he was gone.
---
The world re-stitched itself around them, the chaos subsiding into a darkened void. The ground was solid again, though cracked and scorched. Damien collapsed, his flames snuffed out, coughing until blood stained his lips. Evelyn stretched like a cat after a dance, humming.
Clara stood trembling, her blade gone but the crimson fire still licking faintly at her wings. She couldn't stop staring at her hands. The threads hadn't vanished. They lingered inside her fire, waiting, whispering.
Yurin turned toward her. For once, his calm mask wasn't perfect. His eyes narrowed, faintly—measuring, calculating, but also something else. Something closer to fear.
"Clara," he said quietly. "What did you do?"
She swallowed, wings curling around herself. "I—I don't know. It just… happened. I couldn't stop it."
Damien forced himself upright, glaring. "No. That wasn't just you. That was him. His power. You're carrying it now."
Evelyn clapped slowly, the sound echoing in the empty void. "Congratulations, darling. You've inherited the Crimson threads. You're halfway to becoming the monster you swore to fight."
Clara's breath caught. She wanted to deny it. She wanted to scream it wasn't true. But her fire still hissed with crimson threads, pulsing to a rhythm that wasn't entirely her own.
And Yurin's silence only made the truth heavier.