She stood still for a moment, allowing the tension to build. Then, in a fluid motion, she threw off the cloak, revealing her lithe figure beneath. The crowd were unsure of what they were witnessing, and how to react to what she had just said, some already trying to leave in a panic after witnessing her murder of the actioneer.
Lyra began to move, her body swaying in a dance that was both hypnotic and deadly.
With each graceful step, her magic flowed through her. She spun, her leg kicking high into the air, and in the direction her foot pointed, flames erupted. A section of the audience was engulfed in a wave of fire. Screams filled the hall as chaos erupted, but Lyra continued her dance, undeterred.
She leaped into the air, her body twisting mid-flight as her hands flicked out. Bolts of lightning arced from her fingertips, striking down those who tried to flee. Each movement was precise, calculated, and deadly. She was like a whirlwind, her magic wreaking havoc across the auction house.
The guards rushed the stage, but Lyra's magic had already grown too fast, too powerful in the weeks that had gone by. She cartwheeled backward, dodging their attacks, and as she landed, she summoned spikes of ice that shot from the ground, impaling her attackers.
The nobles who had been bidding on slaves moments earlier now scrambled for their lives, but there was no escape. Lyra's magic filled the air with fire, lightning, and ice, cutting down everyone who had participated in the auction.
When the last scream faded, Lyra stood alone amidst the carnage, breathing heavily. the amphitheater was engulfed in silence, still corpses everywhere, Lyra stood still aswell, drenched in blood.
She …didn't feel anything, even though she killed so many people she couldn't feel anything, nothing.
No, there was one thing, …she felt like monster.
But she wasn't done yet, she'd keep being a monster untill she arrived at her final destination: the laboratory where she had been created.
Hours later, Lyra stood outside the towering gates of the laboratory—the place where she had been created. This was the epicenter of her torment, the den of true monsters who had tried to shape her into something less than human, something to be sold.
Never again.
The wind blew cold against her skin, but inside, her magic roared, pulsing like a storm barely contained. With every step she took toward the lab, the weight of her decision became more certain. This would be the end of it. She would make sure no one else ever suffered in this place.
As she approached the front gates, the guards stationed there caught sight of her. Their faces turned from confusion to panic as they recognized her. They rushed forward, shouting commands, but it was too late. With a single flick of her wrist, a concentrated burst of fire shot from her hand, incinerating them in an instant. Their bodies crumpled into ash before they even realized what had happened.
The gates fell open, and Lyra stepped inside.
The alarms rang out through the halls as she entered the heart of the lab. Scientists, alchemists, and wizards alike scrambled in terror, but Lyra was relentless. Her magic surged, twisting through the air in arcs of flame and lightning, tearing through the cold steel walls, shattering the glass tubes that held other experiments like her.
But she wasn't the only one with power here. They had prepared for this, they must have. As Lyra stormed through the facility, wizards appeared in front of her, their faces masked by hoods, hands glowing with powerful spells. The first one summoned a wave of energy that shot toward her like a tidal wave. Lyra dodged, but it grazed her arm, the sheer force of it ripping open her skin. She gritted her teeth, pain flashing through her, but she pushed forward.
Another wizard conjured a beast, a grotesque amalgamation of limbs and claws, stitched together by alchemists. It lunged at her, claws slashing through the air, and Lyra barely managed to throw up a shield in time. The force of the impact sent her staggering back, but she retaliated with a fireball that engulfed the creature, turning it into nothing more than a pile of charred remains.
Still, the wizards pressed on, their spells coming faster, deadlier. Lyra's body screamed in protest as she ducked and weaved through the onslaught. Bolts of lightning tore through her defenses, searing her flesh. One particularly powerful spell struck her in the face—a flash of blinding light—and she screamed as her left eye exploded in a burst of pain, her vision immediately going dark on that side. Blood poured down her cheek, but she kept moving, her magic healing her wounds as fast as they came.
But the pain didn't stop. She felt her ribs snap as another blast hit her square in the chest, throwing her against the wall. The impact cracked the bones in her arm, and the agony that shot through her was almost unbearable. Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to heal the bones with a surge of magic, feeling them knit together—only for them to break again moments later when she took another hit.
Her body was reaching its limit. Every breath was a struggle, every step a fight against the mounting pain. Her magic was strong, but her body was fragile, and it was beginning to fail her. But she wouldn't stop. She couldn't stop.
Another wave of alchemists charged at her, armed with potions that exploded on contact, spewing acid and poison into the air. Lyra managed to shield herself from most of them, but not all. Some of the acid splashed across her arms, burning through her skin. She screamed again, the pain almost blinding, but she pushed forward, unleashing another torrent of magic that tore through the room, reducing the alchemists to dust.
She was bleeding, broken, and barely holding on, but she had reached the heart of the lab. The final door stood in front of her, and behind it, she could hear the voices of the ones who had done this to her. The ones who had created her, experimented on her, tried to defile her.
With a burst of fire, she blasted the door off its hinges.
Inside, the scientists stood huddled together, their masks hiding their faces, but Lyra could feel their fear. They were the ones who had pulled the strings, made her into what she was. The architects of her suffering.
"Why?" Lyra's voice trembled with rage, her one good eye burning with fury as she stepped toward them. "Why did you put me through that? For money? For power? Was that all?"
One of the lead scientists stepped forward, trembling but trying to maintain some semblance of control. His voice was cold, clinical, as though she was still nothing but a product. "You were… our creation. A means to an end. You were supposed to obey us! Look at the mess you've created, you were meant to be sold to the highest bidder, to be perfect! Not to be this… this monster!"
"Monster?" Lyra spat, her voice seething. "And who created this monster? Who made me like this, huh?"
"You were a success!," he continues, his eyes empty of any remorse. "You were the one who did this to yourself, not us"
Her vision blurred with rage, her magic flared around her, crackling in the air. "You made me to be bought and sold like a piece of meat, you, all of you, would be the real monsters, I was just unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end of your monstrosity's, monsters like you… they don't deserve to live."
Before the man could speak, before any of them could speak, Lyra unleashed everything. All the magic she had been holding back, all the pain and fury she had kept bottled up inside. Fire, lightning, and pure arcane force ripped through the room, tearing the scientists apart, shattering their twisted creations. The walls crumbled, the maschines exploded. And the lab was consumed in flames.
When it was done, when the last body hit the ground and the fires burned themselves out, Lyra stood in the ashes of the laboratory. Her body was bruised, bloodied and broken, her left eye gone, her bones fractured beyond repair.
But her heart, for the first time, was at peace.
She had done it.
She was free.