The storm had passed, but the silence it left behind was unnatural.
The skies above the village were clearer than they had been in days, yet unease clung to the air like smoke that refused to vanish. The offering stone in the village center remained faintly aglow, its eerie veins still pulsing beneath the moss. Some villagers began praying more fervently. Others whispered of omens, of harbingers and cursed children.
Ivyra could feel their eyes.
She walked through the main path toward the stream, Lyxra — small again — perched calmly on her shoulder like a royal stole of stars. Children no longer played near her. Doors didn't just close — they slammed.
> "They're afraid," Lyxra muttered. "Afraid people like you exist. People they can't explain."
> "They've always feared me. Now they just feel justified."
Even Serren had become unusually quiet since the summoning. She still visited, still spoke with her snide humor — but there was a lingering pause in her gaze. A hesitation Ivyra knew all too well.
---
That evening, Ivyra tried to focus on training. The clearing outside the village was damp from rain, but she needed motion — rhythm — anything to break the stagnant tension.
Lyxra, still in his miniature form, hovered beside her, swirling with light and energy.
> "Your movements are getting sharper. But your mind is... fractured."
> "Because I'm trying to understand why just existing is a threat."
> "Because power doesn't beg for permission to exist. It just does."
Ivyra exhaled, driving her blade through the air with a clean arc. Her eyes burned with frustration. She had done nothing to provoke the village, and yet, every step forward felt like a sin.
> "Let them fear," she murmured. "I'm tired of apologizing for breathing."
---
That night, Ivyra sat cross-legged on her bed, a single candle flickering nearby. Elynn was asleep in the adjacent room, her breaths shallow but even. Lyxra lay curled like a stardust wisp near the door.
But Ivyra couldn't sleep.
Her thoughts burned.
She let her head fall back against the wall, eyes closing.
And then… the world shifted.
Not into sleep. Not quite. It was like sinking through silk, air folding over her like water, her soul slipping free while her body stayed behind. She found herself standing… nowhere. Not sky. Not land. Just dark mist, swirling in colors language had no name for.
Before her, a shape.
Vast. Undefined. And yet—familiar.
A tall figure loomed ahead, haloed in chains of glowing runes. Its face was obscured, a blur shifting like oil on water. But its presence… it cracked something in her soul.
> "You…" she whispered.
> "You called for vengeance. I granted you power."
> "Who are you?"
> "One who remembers what the gods have forgotten. One who waits for the world to rot before rebuilding it."
His voice was thunder soaked in silk.
> "Am I your weapon?"
> "You are your own. I merely... opened the door."
> "Why me?"
> "Because you were left. And the left behind often become the most dangerous."
The figure raised a chained hand.
> "The seal weakens. The village burns. The world begins to move. Wake, Ivyra. Wake."
Her eyes snapped open.
Smoke.
Real. Thick.
Lyxra was already growling, his form shifting to the size of a wolf as he kicked the door open with a spark of magic.
> "Fire!"
> "Mother!"
Elynn's room was cloaked in smoke. Ivyra stumbled into the room, yanking her mother upright. She coughed, breath stolen, eyes burning.
> "We have to go!"
They fled, just as the beams of the hut groaned and collapsed inward. Flames devoured their home — the only sanctuary they'd known in years.
Villagers were already outside.
But no one helped.
Some watched. Others whispered. And at the back, holding a torch with a smug smile, was Rorik — the village chief's son.
> "Devils don't belong here. Maybe the fire will send you back to whatever pit spat you out."
> "You set this?" Serren's voice rang out as she pushed through the crowd, fury in her eyes.
> "She's cursed. You saw the sky. She's what's wrong with this village. I did what had to be done."
> "You're a coward," Ivyra said coldly, stepping forward.
> "No. I'm cleansing the rot."
> "Then know this," she hissed. Her voice wasn't loud, but the storm it carried silenced all.
> "When fire answers your fear, it's only a matter of time before lightning comes to correct it."
The seal on her chest glowed faintly beneath her torn tunic.
Rorik's smugness faltered.
> "She—she threatens us all!" he shouted, but his voice was hollow now.
Lyxra snarled beside her, fangs bared, eyes glowing.
No one dared approach.
Elynn collapsed behind her, coughing blood.
Ivyra caught her.
> "You're safe now. I promise."
But deep inside, a storm was building.
And this time, Ivyra would not beg for peace.
She would demand it.
---
The ashes of their home smoldered long into the morning, as the village woke to more than smoke.
They woke to consequences.