They said beauty was pain.
Crash. Crash. "No, no, no—my face!" she squealed, frantically moving her hands across her cheeks. She was freaking out, shaking, and she fell to her knees.
But for me, it was a nightmare.
She stared at me suddenly and grabbed my face, her knuckles turning white. "It was supposed to be me!" She squealed.
It hurts.
It hurt. It hurt a lot. "It's all because of you," she spat. My teeth pressed hard against the inside of my cheeks. I couldn't speak. "It's your fault. You took everything from me. You ruined my life." There was a burning feeling inside my rib cage, but another feeling had started to claw at my mind.
I am sorry.
AM I?
"You don't even look like me, you look similar to it" she growled, her voice rasping and vicious. "A. FUCKING. MONSTER. That's what you are." I stared at her fiery emerald eyes and long, sliver-white hair. "I sacrificed everything and it was all in vain"she whispered. I could see Aurora glaring at me from the corner of my eye, like I was a lowly creature that didn't even deserve acknowledgment.
A MONSTER.
What is this feeling?
She threw me against a nearby table. Everything crashed down on me—vials, scrolls, dried herbs, and half-finished machines. All the potions I had crafted for her, the huckleberries I had gathered from the dead forest where the air was thick with decay and the trees leaned like eavesdroppers. All the delicate mechanisms I had built to satisfy her greed. It all fell crashing down. Everything. But me—not yet. I refused to be broken, deceived, used, then thrown away like a piece of trash.
Why?
She was staring at me solemnly now. Then she screamed and slapped me—again and again and again—until the world turned into oblivion.
Haven't I done enough?
When I began to wake from the darkness of unconsciousness, the world greeted me with fire. Furious red flames were devouring my house, crackling like a beast unleashed. The air was thick with screams, shouts, and wails—pure panic. I had never seen fire like that before. Bloody-red fire, it wasn't just burning—it was alive. People rushed back and forth, clutching buckets of water, shouting things I couldn't yet understand. Their voices were distant, blurred, like echoes underwater. But no matter how desperately they fought, the fire only grew—angrier, fiercer, insatiable, like those feelings lurking in my heart. When I stood, I saw their faces. Awe. Fear. Confusion. Then something darker began to bloom—anger. Suspicion. Hatred. Just moments ago, I had been at home. But now I had awakened somewhere else, surrounded by people whose expressions twisted with rage.
Some of them held weapons—sickles, daggers, axes. Shouts echoed through the smoke: "Monster!" "She is a monster!" "Kill this monster!" Suddenly, all I saw in their eyes was fear, fury, and betrayal.
MONSTER. MONSTER. MONSTER.
Before they could reach me, I ran. I ran like the earth itself was collapsing beneath me, like the abyss had opened its mouth and was whispering my name. I didn't look back—I couldn't. The angry cries chased me, clawing at my heels. One wrong step, and I would vanish into nothingness. The alleyways of the undercity twisted around me—arched bridges overhead, crumbling balconies leaning over the path, rusted pipes hissing quietly in the gloom. The stone walls were marked with old carvings, and the cobblestones beneath my feet were damp and slick, worn smooth by time and neglect.
But then—dark figures appeared from nothing. I skidded to a halt, suddenly aware of three strangely clad men I had never seen before. Their cloaks shimmered faintly, stitched with symbols that pulsed like veins, glowing faintly in the fog. Before I could react, the one in front of me smirked. "Found you," he whispered, but the words rang out with eerie clarity, and far too loud for the distance between us.
He lifted his hand with a calm, deliberate motion, two fingers raised in front of his mouth like a silent command. The air around him thickened, as if something ancient had stirred. Then—light. A ring of symbols flared into existence, hovering between his hand and face. They didn't float randomly; they arranged themselves in precise, sacred patterns—circles within circles, lines that curved and intersected like the markings of an old celestial map. The formation pulsed with a deep crimson glow, sharp and steady, casting flickers of red across the stone walls.
To his left, another figure stepped forward. His magic came in cold blue, the symbols forming in a spiral that twisted inward, like a whirlpool carved from light. The lines were thinner, faster, almost vibrating with tension. Symbols moved like they were alive, shifting in rhythm as if responding to breath.
The third one remained still, then violet light bloomed around him—soft at first, then piercing. Symbols formed in layered rings, each one etched with delicate curves and mirrored reflections. The air around him shimmered, and the violet glow seemed to bend the air itself, warping the space with quiet pressure.
He lifted his hand with a serene, deliberate motion, placing two fingers in front of his mouth in a gesture that felt ancient—ritualistic. A glowing sigil flared to life between his lips and fingertips, and in the breath that followed, the air around us shattered. Light fractured.
I was powerless. My muscles screamed. My breath was ragged. I looked behind me, but the crowd was retreating—slowly, eerily silent compared to the chaos just moments ago.
Shit.
I tried to run, to slip through the space between them, but I couldn't move. Not a step. My entire body had gone rigid, like something had locked me in place from the inside out. And then—everything turned to oblivion.