"Anyways," Atlas said, turning to Luminaria, his tone reverting to its usual composed indifference. "We only returned to check if you were okay. And since we've done that — Lilim, time to continue with our quest."
"Of course, Master," Lilim responded immediately, her voice crisp and unwavering, already preparing to open another dimensional gate.
However, Luminaria's expression darkened. Her hand twitched slightly as she took a hesitant step forward, her tone filled with quiet defiance. "You're leaving again? Just like that?"
Atlas glanced at her, one brow arching. "Is there a problem?"
"Yes, there is," Luminaria replied, her usually calm voice trembling—not with fear, but with restrained frustration. "You nearly died, Master. I could feel your life force fading from across dimensions. You were consumed by something that even shook my essence, and now you expect me to just… let you go again? Alone—with only Lilim?"
Lilim's crimson eyes flicked to her sister, an edge of pride tugging at her lips. "Are you questioning Master's judgment, sister?" she asked softly, though there was nothing soft about her intent.
Luminaria ignored her, her gaze never leaving Atlas. "You shouldn't go alone again," she said, her voice firm now. "Not after what just happened. I'm going with you this time."
The air shifted.
Atlas's once-neutral demeanor changed—calm dissolving into quiet command. His crimson eyes began to glow, faint at first, then sharper—piercing. The atmosphere itself seemed to constrict, pressing against the walls of the room, thick and suffocating.
"Luminaria," he said, his voice low yet filled with a resonance that demanded submission.
Just the sound of her name—spoken like a decree—was enough to send a shiver running down Luminaria's spine. Every syllable carried weight, as though her very existence bent to it. Her breath caught in her throat.
Atlas rose to his full height, his aura unfurling like a storm. "I do not recall asking for opinions," he said, his tone edged with divine authority. "Your place is here. Guard the sub-realm. Maintain stability. That is my command." He paused, his tone softening slightly—gentle, yet firm. "Luminaria, I can only rely on you to revive me when I reach an unfortunate end. That's why I need you here."
The silence that followed was heavy—crushing.
Luminaria's lips parted, as if to protest once more, but when she met his gaze—those predatory, unyielding crimson eyes—her will faltered. Her shoulders lowered slightly, and her defiance melted into obedience.
"…By Master's will," she said quietly, lowering her head. "I shall remain here."
Though her voice carried submission, her expression betrayed a mix of sorrow and pride. Saddened that she could not accompany him, yet quietly delighted that her Master trusted and relied on her so deeply. That reliance alone was a far greater honor than any battlefield.
Atlas nodded once, satisfied. The glow in his eyes dimmed, and the suffocating pressure faded as though it had never existed.
He turned to Lilim. "Let's go."
Without hesitation, Lilim raised her hand and tore open a new dimensional rift—an abyss of swirling obsidian energy that shimmered like molten glass.
As the black winds howled from within, Atlas looked back one last time at Luminaria. "Keep investigating any other realms Fate doesn't focus heavily on," he said. "When I return, I expect results."
Luminaria bowed deeply. "It shall be as you command, Master."
Atlas gave no further response. With a simple nod to Lilim, the two stepped through the portal together.
The dimensional rift closed behind them with a thunderous pulse, leaving only silence in its wake—silence that settled softly upon Luminaria's heart.
As the last echoes faded, she whispered to herself, her eyes glowing faintly with divine resolve, "Then I'll prove myself even more useful to Master… so that he'll never doubt leaving me in charge."
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Selphira's POV —Previously
"AHHHHH!" Selphira screamed, the sound echoing through the sacred chamber, shattering the stained glass windows. The air around her warped and darkened, rippling like liquid shadow.
Selindra rushed forward instinctively — but before she could reach her, she too felt the same agony. Her knees buckled, and she collapsed, clutching her chest. "AHHHH!" she screamed, her voice trembling with agony.
The chamber quaked violently under the pressure of their combined power, the holy symbols on the walls melting into black ichor.
And then — within their minds, a voice.
"Help me… help me… help me…"
The same words repeated endlessly, not in their thoughts, but inside their very blood.
Selphira's wide, tear-streaked eyes lifted as she recognized the voice — faint, distant, familiarity.
Selindra, writhing on the floor, also heard the same voice — but to her, it was foreign, alien, impossible to place.
Still, both of them screamed, their cries drowned by the chorus of countless others.
—Presently
The two women screamed in agony within the empty throne room as the voice in their heads grew louder — unbearably loud — until it felt as though it would split them apart.
"I'll help!!!" they both cried out at once, desperate to end the torment. They promised to help the voice — and that was their mistake.
Instead of relief, the pain worsened. What had been agony turned nightmarish. It felt as though their very beings were being shredded into countless fragments, each piece pulled away and sent somewhere — to someone.
Selphira clutched her chest, gasping as the light in her eyes dimmed. She could feel her essence being drained, her life bleeding away like water through her fingers.
Beside her, Selindra collapsed, trembling violently. "S–Selphira… what's happening—!?"
Selphira could barely breathe. "Something... precious of ours… is being taken…"
They both felt it — the slow, merciless draining of their existence, the pull of something vast and unseen devouring them from within. It wasn't just pain; it was consumption. Something beyond their understanding was feeding on their agony, their essence, their very being.
Their souls screamed in silence as the invisible force clawed through them. It felt endless — an eternity of torment packed into a moment. And then, as suddenly as it began, the pain ceased.
But that relief was not mercy. It was emptiness. The kind that follows after the storm — when everything that could be destroyed already has been.
It wasn't over because they were saved.
It was over because there was nothing left to take.
Whatever that thing was, it had finished feeding.
Their bodies fell still. Lifeless.
And yet, somehow, impossibly… Selphira stood. Her movements were slow, almost mechanical at first — like a puppet learning how to move again. Selindra followed, her breath shallow and trembling, eyes wide with disbelief.
They both remembered the moment their hearts had stopped, the chill of the void swallowing them whole.
They knew they had died.
But then why… why were they still standing?
Selphira's hand trembled as she clenched her fist, the sound of her fingers cracking faintly in the silence. Then she opened it again, staring at her pale palm — confused, unsettled. Even the act of breathing now felt strange, hollow, artificial.
"...Mistress," Selindra finally spoke, her voice quivering with fear and confusion, "what just happened?"
Selphira turned to her slowly, her gaze sharp but distant, as if her mind was still lost in whatever abyss they had just come from. "We died," she said flatly. "That's what happened."
Selindra blinked, her brow furrowing. That answer only deepened her confusion.
"But we're clearly alive," she argued, her tone unsteady but defiant. It was the first time in years that she had dared to raise her voice — something she had stopped doing long ago after Selphira had broken her will and forced submission upon her.
Selphira didn't seem to care about the tone. Her expression didn't even flicker. She simply asked, quietly but sharply, "Do you feel alive?"
That question struck something deep within Selindra. Her lips parted, but no words came. Instead, she looked inward — and felt it.
Her body was warm, yes. Her heart was beating. She could breathe. She could move.
But it was wrong.
The warmth didn't feel like life. It felt like something else moving through her — something foreign, alien. Her heart's rhythm was mechanical, forced. Her pulse lacked the natural hum of vitality; it was as if her body was being simulated, mimicking what life should feel like.
Selindra's knees weakened as realization sank in. "I… I don't know…" she whispered, voice trembling. "It feels like I'm alive, but… not really. It's like something's missing."
Selphira's expression softened — not with compassion, but with grim understanding.
"That's because something is missing," she murmured, eyes distant as she stared into the faint shimmer of the air before them. "Our souls… whatever that thing was — it didn't just feed on pain. It took something from us. Something essential."
Selindra's eyes darted to her mistress. "Our souls?" she repeated, disbelief dripping from her tone. "But if our souls were taken, how are we still—?"
"Moving?" Selphira interrupted, her lips curving into something that wasn't quite a smile. "Existing?" She took a slow breath, her chest rising and falling. "Because something else is keeping us here."
Her voice grew quiet, lower, as if she feared being overheard. "Something that's not ours."
Selindra shivered. There was an unfamiliar energy flowing through her — cold, heavy, and oppressive. It wasn't life; it was possession.
Selphira turned her gaze toward her trembling hand again, watching faint tendrils of dark mist pulse faintly beneath her skin — veins of black energy twisting like serpents. "We've been remade," she said finally, her tone eerily calm. "Not resurrected. Reforged."
Selindra's voice broke. "Reforged by what?"
Selphira looked up then, her crimson eyes glowing faintly in the dim chamber light. "That's the question I myself don't have an answer for."
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The silence stretched on — thick, oppressive, filled with an unseen weight pressing down on their shoulders.
Selindra's hands clenched around her robes. "Mistress… do you think this means we're cursed?"
Selphira tilted her head slightly, considering the word, then shook her head slowly. "Cursed?" she echoed. "No. A curse implies punishment. This… feels deliberate."
Her gaze drifted toward the shattered remains of the sacred chamber — the air still distorted where the ritual had gone wrong. The glass shards on the floor shimmered faintly with residual light, like the aftermath of a divine act gone horribly astray.
"It feels like something claimed us," she whispered, "as if death wasn't the end, but the beginning of something else."
Selindra swallowed hard, fear creeping back into her expression. "But… what if it's still inside us? What if it's using us?"
Selphira didn't respond immediately. Her crimson eyes darkened, glinting with a strange mix of curiosity and dread.
"Then," she said at last, her voice steady, "we'll find out whether we're the hunters… or the prey."
Selindra looked at her Mistress — and for the first time since their deaths, she realized something terrifying.
Selphira wasn't afraid.
She was intrigued.
As if the unknown power that had devoured them had also awakened something in her. Something dangerous.
And in that moment, the two women stood there — not alive, not dead — suspended between the two worlds, haunted by the question neither dared to ask aloud:
What, exactly, had they become?
End of Season 1