When I opened my eyes, I felt an intense, burning heat. I was back in the chamber and standing with my fathers blade in my hand, my once dirty brown dress soaked in crimson.

Chaos greeted me. Smoke filled the air, red and orange flames erupting around me as I coughed into my arm. Through the smoke, I could vaguely see the candles had tipped over, their wax pooling on the ground. Broken glass was everywhere. 

My nose, lungs, and mouth were screaming with every breath I took, and my eyes began stinging.

Then, the sight of my father’s cold, lifeless body caught my eye. He was laying in a pool of red, his throat slashed. My stomach dropped. 

What happened?

“Don’t be afraid,” a voice whispered in my ear.

Kako’s voice. 

“I’ve honored my promise. Evil things happen to evil people.”

The weight of his words slammed into me, and I dropped the blade in my hand, the sound clanging. My hands trembled as I watched the scene in front of me, frozen in fear.

An expression of shock was frozen on my father’s face. His eyes were wide open, his mouth hanging slightly ajar, and his body tense. Flames slowly engulfed him.

What have I done?

I was frozen, unable to comprehend what was so clearly laid out before me. Time slowed and the room around me began to spin. Suddenly, my bare feet began to burn.

I had to run.

I raced to the entrance of the chamber, my legs wobbling underneath me as the flames roared behind. When I burst outside, a heavy downpour welcomed me, drenching my skin and mingling with the blood on my body. The cool feeling eased the pain from my other burns, but the soles of my feet were still scorched.

There was barely any light left, signaling that curfew was approaching, and a sense of urgency propelled me to keep moving. The district was empty, Mongrels already having retreated to their homes. 

I kept pushing myself, my lungs burning and my form uneven as I limped through the streets; but I eventually collapsed on the ground. Thunder rumbled overhead.

Where do I go from here?

I’ll be hanged for this. Or worse.

It wasn’t real. It could have just been a nightmare.

This must be a nightmare.

My heart was racing and tears welled in my eyes from the pain. I couldn’t keep running. I curled into a ball, coughing and clutching myself gently, trying not to irritate the burns on my arms. Suddenly, I heard feet splashing in puddles behind me.

“Noemi?” a voice called out, filled with urgency—Sir Seraphiel. I looked toward him, his blonde curls clinging to his face and lines of concern etched into his forehead. “My goodness, child, are you alright?” he breathed.

My throat burned, making it impossible to speak. My body trembled from the adrenaline coursing through me, and I just shook my head, coughing incessantly.

His eyes stared at the blood staining my skin, the rain washing it away only to reveal more beneath.

“Come with me,” he commanded gently, bending down to pick me up in his arms. I cried in pain as he wrapped his arms around my torso and I heard him apologize sincerely. “We need to get you to Cryus,” he added. Once he had a firm hold on me, he began to run.

“Fire!” came a voice shrill with panic, cracking through the Veil District. “We need help!”

Mongrels began to emerge from their homes, drawn by the large cloud of black smoke rising in the direction of my father’s house. Fortunately, it wasn’t built close enough to threaten the other homes, but panic was already rippling through the streets as people rushed to extinguish the flames.

“It’s the Vermisial home!” I heard someone scream. 

Sir Seraphiel didn’t bother to look back at the commotion. He continued to race in the opposite direction, the crowd's noise fading into the distance as we approached his home.

We rushed inside, and I heard a familiar voice call out. One that I felt I hadn’t heard in weeks.

“Father?” Cyrus called out, his figure rounding the corner. I was wheezing now, hacking up a black substance, and in a moment he was by my side. “What the hell happened?”

“We need to heal her and get her cleaned,” his father ordered. “Get a bath drawn, immediately."

Cyrus nodded and dashed off with a determined look. My body trembled, the adrenaline still coursing through me as Sir Seraphiel led me to the tub, gently laying me inside it. A groan escaped me.

His eyes caught mine and he gave a distressed look. Cyrus rushed back in with a bucket of water and slowly poured it on top of me. I winced, sucking air through my teeth and shivering.

“Shit, I’m sorry Nemmi,” he said, clenching his teeth as if he could feel the pain. “Heavens, I’m so sorry.”

“Can you talk, Noemi?” Seraphiel said. “Can you tell me what happened?”

I weakly raised my hand to my throat, cringing from the sting as I tried to attempt a word.

“Wa….ter,” I rasped.

He nodded. “Heal her wounds, first,” Sir Seraphiel said to Cy, “discreetly.” His father then grabbed the bucket and rushed off for more water.

I felt tired– so tired. I wanted to sleep.

Gentle hands found their way to my throat, light glowing from them and I instantly felt the searing burn subsiding. My eyes closed and I let my body slowly relax as Cyrus went to work on all of my injuries. Water continued to fill the tub in stages, soaking away the dirt and stains. 

Cy’s ability wasn’t one that reversed the injuries, it just sped up the healing process. It required patience and intense concentration on his end. If done incorrectly, healers could end up killing someone by speeding up the process too quickly.

It took about a half hour for him to heal the majority of the burns. I was left with raw spots on my skin, but overall my condition was much improved.

A cup was raised to my lips, and I swallowed the clear substance. My thirst multiplied and I quickly grabbed the cup, chugging loudly and pushing Cy’s hands away. 

“Woah, slow down there,” Cyrus said, chuckling and taking the glass. His hands were shaking now, and sweat pooled on his brows. Bags were forming under his eyes.

“It’s okay. Just take it slow. There is plenty more.”

I looked at him to snatch the cup once more, but stopped at the wild look that suddenly appeared on his face. He stared at me for a moment before he spoke.

“What the fuck happened to your eye?” he asked, mouth hanging open.

With my voice returned to only a slight rasp, I gave him a quizzical look. 

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

Cyrus quickly reached behind him and grabbed a handheld mirror off of the shelf, turning back to give it to me, the same look of bewilderment etched in his features.

I took it and only glanced at my reflection before I noticed it. 

My right eye still retained its normal silver hue... but the silver in my left eye, above my angelic brand, had transformed into a bright, blood-red.