Anger crept into Dydra's chest slowly, like a poison spreading through her veins. It was not sudden, nor explosive. Instead, it settled deep within her, heavy and suffocating, draining the warmth from her blood until her limbs felt cold and distant. She clenched her fists as the feeling intensified, her breath growing shallow.
She hated vampires.
She hated them with a fury that felt instinctive, as though it had been etched into her very soul long before she had words to describe it. Their hunger, their cruelty, their complete disregard for suffering—every thought of them twisted something painful inside her.
Something stirred in response.
Dydra's eyes squeezed shut as a strange pressure built within her chest. It was as if a force long dormant had finally been provoked, stretching and unfolding inside her. Heat surged through her scalp, and slowly, unnaturally, her hair bloomed into a vivid crimson, lifting as though caught in an invisible current.
The air around her thickened.
