The agony had passed, but its memory still echoed in my bones. For hours, maybe days, I couldn't tell—everything was a blur of fire and ice, pain and confusion. I had lost all sense of time, of place, of myself. When I finally came to, the world felt... different.
I lay still for a moment, my mind trying to adjust to the strange calm that had settled over my body. The pain was gone, but in its place was an unsettling silence. My senses, once overwhelmed by every whisper of wind and flicker of light, now felt sharpened and unnervingly quiet. I could hear the faintest hum of air moving through the room, could feel the cold stone beneath my fingers as if I were a part of it.
It was too quiet. Too still.
I opened my eyes slowly, cautiously, as though expecting the brightness to sear through my skull again. But the light—while sharp—was no longer painful. It was crisp, clear, more vivid than it had ever been. Every detail in the room stood out in perfect clarity: the cracks in the stone walls, the dust that danced in the slivers of sunlight, even the texture of the wood grain on the table beside me.
I sat up, moving gingerly, half-expecting the unbearable trembling to return. But it didn't. My muscles, once wracked with spasms, now felt strong—too strong. Every movement was effortless, and I could feel the power humming beneath my skin, waiting, like a coiled spring ready to snap.
I stood, testing my legs, expecting them to buckle under me, but they didn't. Instead, they felt solid, firm—like I could run for miles without tiring. It was disorienting, the way my body responded, faster than I could think. I took a hesitant step forward, then another, and then I was moving, gliding across the room with a grace I had never known.
But it wasn't me. Not really. It didn't feel like me.
I reached out to touch the stone wall, wanting to feel something real, something familiar. My fingers brushed the rough surface, and I recoiled instantly. The sensation was too much—every ridge, every bump, every groove magnified in my mind. It was overwhelming.
I pulled my hand back, staring at it, half-expecting it to be someone else's. But it was mine, pale and smooth, my nails sharp and dark. My heart—if it still beat—thudded in my chest as I tried to steady myself. *Breathe, Eleri,* I thought, but even the rhythm of my breathing felt foreign now, too slow, too measured.
What had I done? I had wanted strength, power—to be more than the fragile, weak girl who could barely stand up for herself. But now that I had it, I didn't know what to do with it. I didn't know who I was anymore.
Seraphina's words echoed in my mind, the way she had looked at me before the transformation—her calm, confident smile, as if this was all just a natural progression of who I was meant to be. But she hadn't warned me about this—about the emptiness, the strangeness of it all. About the power that felt like it didn't belong to me, but to something darker, lurking beneath the surface.
A flicker of movement caught my eye—a shadow, dancing in the corner of the room. I turned toward it instinctively, my body reacting faster than my mind could process. But there was nothing there. Just the dark, curling in on itself like smoke.
I frowned, stepping closer, my heart racing with a new kind of fear. Was this another trick of the transformation? Some new sense I hadn't yet understood? Or was it something worse—something waiting, watching?
I reached out toward the shadow, my fingers trembling despite the strength I felt coursing through me. As I touched it, the darkness seemed to ripple, like water disturbed by the wind. My breath caught in my throat as the shadow moved, slithering up my arm, wrapping itself around my wrist.
I gasped, stumbling back, but the shadow didn't let go. It clung to me, a cold, oily tendril, weaving itself through my fingers, up my arm, spreading like ink across my skin. Panic surged through me, and I tried to shake it off, but the more I struggled, the tighter it clung.
"What… what is this?" I whispered, my voice small, shaky—still the voice of a fourteen-year-old girl, despite everything.
The shadow pulsed, as if responding to my fear, and I felt a sudden chill run through me. This wasn't just a trick of the light. This was something more—something inside of me, something I didn't understand.
And then, as quickly as it had appeared, the shadow vanished, melting back into the darkness of the room, leaving me standing there, breathless and trembling. I stared at my arm, the skin pale and unmarked, but I could still feel the cold where the shadow had touched me.
"What just happened?" I whispered to the empty room, but there was no answer.
The power inside me—it wasn't just strength or speed. It was something deeper, something darker. Something I couldn't control.
And that terrified me.
I sank to the floor, curling in on myself, my arms wrapped around my knees. I had wanted this—had begged for it. But now, as I sat there, shivering despite the lack of cold, I couldn't help but wonder if I had made a terrible mistake.
I wasn't Seraphina. I wasn't ready for this. I didn't even know what *this* was.
But there was no going back now. I had crossed the line, stepped into a world where darkness moved like a living thing, where power came at a cost.
And I wasn't sure if I was strong enough to pay it.