The forest was Elena's sanctuary, a place where the world's noise faded into the rustle of leaves and the distant calls of birds. The morning sun filtered weakly through the dense canopy, casting long shadows on the wooden floor of her small cabin. She sat cross-legged on the bed, her hands resting on her knees, her breath steady and deliberate. Meditation was her anchor, the one thing that kept the storm inside her at bay.
But today, the storm was louder than usual.
Ten years. It had been ten years since her parents' brutal deaths, and yet the pain hadn't dulled. It had only morphed into a quiet, constant ache that lived within her, a shadow that followed her every step. She opened her eyes, her gaze falling on the pendant around her neck—a simple silver chain with a small, intricately carved stone. It was all she had left of them.
She swung her legs off the bed, her bare feet meeting the cold wooden floor. The day had begun, and with it, her routines. First, meditation. Then, physical training. Her body and mind were both weapons, after all.
---
Elena moved through her physical regimen with practiced ease. A few deep stretches, then a series of body workouts, each more intense than the last. Her muscles screamed in protest, but she refused to yield. She pushed herself further, until the sweat poured from her, glistening in the light like liquid fire. But as always, the exhaustion that would have overwhelmed any other person seemed to pass her by. Her body was capable of more than mere human endurance—hers was the body of someone forged by years of relentless training and supernatural heritage.
When the physical exertion came to a close, Elena moved to the next part of her morning: cleaning. The forest, though beautiful and serene, had no mercy. It was wild, untamed, and so too was her life. Alone in the woods, she had no one to help with the chores, no one to share the weight of the silence. It was always just her—sweeping the floor, organizing the sparse furnishings, tending to the small vegetable garden she'd managed to cultivate. Her home was modest, but it was her sanctuary, and she kept it immaculate.
She took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of the fresh air outside the cabin, before preparing a light breakfast of simple fruit and herbal tea.
But even as she ate, Elena's mind wandered. The sorrow, the loneliness, the anger—it gnawed at her insides. She found no peace, even in moments meant for rest. Her thoughts drifted back to that day ten years ago, when her world had been shattered. The loss was something she could never escape, no matter how many years passed.
---
She set the unfinished breakfast aside and decided a walk through the woods would bring some semblance of peace. The forest, with its towering trees and whispering leaves, had always been her refuge. There, among the quiet of nature, she could almost forget—almost.
As she walked, her boots crunching softly against the underbrush, her senses sharpened, alert. The forest was alive with shadows, but one shadow moved differently—shifting, writhing, as if alive. Her breath caught as the creature emerged, its form grotesque and unnatural. Its eyes glowed with a hunger that sent a chill down her spine.
A Desire Yōgoe.
Elena's grip tightened on the dagger at her side. She had faced these creatures before, but never alone. They fed on pain, on longing, on the darkest corners of the human heart. And Elena had plenty to offer.
The Yōgoe lunged, its claws slashing through the air. Elena dodged, her movements fluid and precise. She called on her magic, feeling it surge through her veins like liquid fire. With a flick of her wrist, she sent a burst of golden light toward the creature. It screeched, its form writhing as the magic burned through it.
But as it fell, something strange happened. The air around her shimmered, the forest dissolving into a haze of light and shadow. Elena's stomach lurched as the ground disappeared beneath her feet. When the world solidified again, she was no longer in the forest.
She was in a room she knew too well.
---
The air reeked of burnt sage and iron, the scent of her mother's sanctuary. Moonlight streamed through high, narrow windows, casting silver streaks over the figure kneeling at the room's center. Her mother's hands were bound by glowing chains, her emerald eyes blazing with defiance even as blood trickled from a gash on her temple. A hooded figure loomed over her, his wrist marked with the three-lined symbol—the same sigil Elena had seen on the mercenaries, the same one seared into her nightmares.
"No—" Elena choked out, but the word died in her throat. This wasn't a memory. It was a truth she'd been denied.
Her mother lifted her chin, her voice raw but unbroken. "I did everything you asked. I gave you *her*. Now honor your pact."
The hooded man laughed, low and grating. "You failed. The child was never yours to control."
The chains ignited, flames licking up her mother's arms. Her scream tore through the chamber, a sound Elena felt in her bones. She lunged forward, but her hands passed through the vision like smoke.
The scene dissolved, replaced by another:
*Centuries ago.*
A younger version of her mother stood before a council of cloaked figures, their faces hidden beneath gilded masks. The air thrummed with power, the walls etched with runes that writhed like serpents.
"You wish to betray the Veridian bloodline?" one figure intoned, their voice echoing as if spoken through water.
Her mother smirked, her eyes glinting with ambition. "I wish to claim what was *denied* to me."
The vision shattered.
---
Elena jerked her hand back as if burned. The relic cracked with a sound like breaking bone, golden light erupting from its core. The blast hurled her backward, her skull striking stone as magic surged through her—uncontrolled, *wild*.
Adrian caught her before she hit the ground, his grip firm. "Elena!"
She shoved him away, scrambling to her feet. The cavern trembled, dust raining from the ceiling as the relic's light flickered over her mother's form.
For a heartbeat, the illusion fractured.
Scales rippled across her mother's skin. Her pupils slithered into vertical voids. Claws curled where her fingers had been.
Adrian swore, dagger already in hand. "I *knew* it."
Elena's chest heaved. "You're not her."
Her mother's smile twisted, warm maternal softness melting into something predatory. "Oh, darling. Did you truly think I'd let you win? Your mother begged for death in the end. Will you do the same?"
---
The cavern warped.
Walls liquefied, stone flowing like tar. The floor splintered, gaps yawning open to reveal a void beneath. Shadows peeled from the rock, coagulating into figures—mirror images of Elena and Adrian, their eyes hollow, their movements jerky and wrong.
Adrian slashed at the nearest clone, his blade passing through it like mist. The illusion reformed instantly, its dagger grazing his arm.
"They're tethered to her!" Elena shouted, her magic sparking erratically. "Find the source!"
Her mother laughed, her voice echoing from all directions. "You think you can outwit me, child? I am *ageless*."
Elena's hands trembled as she focused, pushing past the panic clawing at her throat. *Think. Remember.*
The carvings. The name.
"Adrian!" she yelled. "The walls—the name! Use it!"
His gaze snapped to the runes etched into the stone. Understanding flashed in his eyes.
He stepped forward, voice cutting through the chaos like a blade.
"**Asmara!**"
The illusions shuddered. The clones flickered, their edges dissolving into smoke.
Her mother snarled, her form cracking like porcelain. "You dare—?"
---
Elena didn't let her finish.
She channeled every shred of grief, every ounce of fury, into her hands. Golden light erupted from her palms, searing the air as it collided with her mother.
The demon's scream was deafening. Her body fragmented—scales, claws, shadows—disintegrating into ash and whispers.
But before she vanished, her voice slithered into Elena's mind, soft and taunting.
*"The immortals will feast on your despair, little sorceress."*
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