Three hundred years later

She had no way of measuring time. No sun, no seasons, no passing of days.

But the man who came to her - the devil, as she had come to call him - aged. Slowly at first, then noticeably. Until one day, he stopped coming altogether, replaced by someone younger… and just as cruel.

That was when she knew.

She had been here far longer than she had ever imagined.

There were no windows. She slept when exhaustion claimed her and ate only when food was brought. Over time, patterns revealed themselves. When the portions were larger, it meant work was coming. The food only increased when they wanted something from her.

The cell, buried deep underground, was no longer just stone.

It was stained with her.

Every inch of it - walls, floor, even the bars - was coated in dried layers of her blood. It hadn’t always been that way.

In the beginning, she resisted. For what felt like a month - at least by this world’s measure - she fought. Clung to herself. Refused to break.

Then the beatings began.

Then the torture.

By the time they placed the chalices in her hands - heavy gold, embedded with jewels - she could barely lift them. Her grip trembled as the metal began to glow, draining something deep within her.

Not just blood.

Something else.

Something she later understood.

Divinity.

The realization was bitter. In a world of fantasy, she had become exactly what those stories used - power to be harvested.

She had no tears left.

No voice.

No energy.

She simply existed.

Until the war came.

At first, it was only a tremor beneath her feet. Subtle. Easy to dismiss.

Then it grew.

The ground shook violently, and the temple above was thrown into chaos.

And just like that, everything binding her - magic circles, restraints, the silence forced upon her - vanished.

Sound rushed back all at once.

Screams.

Clashing steel.

Dying voices echoing down into the depths where she had been forgotten.

She stood.

Slowly.

Her body trembled as she pushed herself upright, weak from years of neglect. The bars of her cell no longer mattered - she slipped through them easily. Too easily.

She had grown thin.

Too thin.

There had never been physical chains. They hadn’t needed them. Magic had always been enough.

Until now.

She stepped into the corridor, unsteady at first.

But something inside her had changed.

She could feel them.

The living.

Faint, distant presences - like awareness bleeding into her senses.

It guided her. She began to move.

A slow, uneven jog carried her forward. She stumbled often, catching herself just enough to keep going. Desperation forced her upright every time she nearly fell.

Up a flight of stairs.

Into another hall.

Too many doors. Too many choices.

Frustration tightened in her chest-

Go through the center entrance.

She froze.

The voice was unfamiliar. Female.

Warm… yet impossibly strong.

It stirred something deep inside her, something she hadn’t felt in years.

A tear slipped free.

Quickly. Straight ahead. The door at the end.

She followed without hesitation.

Not because she trusted it-

Because it was the only guidance she had.

The instructions continued, precise and steady, leading her through the temple corridors until she reached it.

A massive white-and-gold door stood before her.

Bodies lay at its base. Knights.

Their throats had been cut cleanly, blood splattered across the surface of the door behind them.

She sensed no one else. No presence. No threat.

Please… open it.

A pause.

I am sorry, my child.

She frowned slightly.

It wasn’t her mother’s voice. She was certain of that. It lacked the distinct husk and use of patois.

Still-

She reached out. The moment her hand touched the door, it burst into light. She groaned softly as the brightness overwhelmed her, waiting for it to fade before pushing the doors open.

Her breath caught.

Gold.

Jewels.

Mountains of both, piled endlessly within the room.

Even growing up comfortably, she had never seen anything like this. Not even close.

This had to be a treasury. Or offerings.

A temple.

Priests. Knights. Magic.

And the voice…

There was only one it could belong to. A memory she had buried deep beneath surges forward, and only one word- one name- escapes her cracked lips.

“Dawne…”

Her voice was barely sound - dry, cracked, unfamiliar even to her own ears.

Take it, the voice urged gently. Run. Live for yourself.

A softer note followed.

Salem.

She stilled.

Her name.

She hadn’t heard it in what she assumed was at least centuries.

Tears flooded her eyes, unstoppable now, breaking through years of emptiness. Her sobs came rough and uneven, scraping through her throat.

She wiped at her face as best she could, forcing herself to focus.

She didn’t know how to use magic. Let alone divinity.

But she knew she had both. That was abundantly clear with each visitor… but her body should know how to use it.

Years of being drained had taught her how divinity moved, how it felt, how it flowed. And free from the magical shackles, another power source surged up within her. Deep below her navel, whereas the divinity resided in her heart.

She remembered enough - from games, from anime, from stories -  to attempt it.

Spatial storage…

She raised her hands slowly, and the air responded in kind.

Something tangible rippled around her, faint at first - then gathering. She imagined space. Vast and endless, like the void she had first seen.

Something large enough to hold everything.

The air tightened.

Condensed.

Something formed before her - a rippling oval, unstable but real.

She didn’t hesitate.

Wind tore through the room as gold and jewels lifted into the air, pulled inward in streams toward the forming space. The sound of clattering metal filled the room - loud, chaotic… almost beautiful.

When it ended, the room stood empty.

Almost.

A single chest remained with a pedestal beside it. The chest pulsed softly, resonating with something deep inside her.

She approached slowly.

No lock.

When she lifted her hand, it opened on its own.

Light flickered gold for a moment.

Inside—

Her world.

Her rings.

Her watch.

Her bag.

Her phone.

Everything she had brought with her.

Her hands shook as she reached inside.

It was all still there. Untouched. Unchanged.

Unlike her.

She clutched the phone to her chest, breath hitching.

For the first time in centuries, something felt familiar.

Stable.

Real.

When she stood again, her body trembled violently.

Weak.

So weak, she grumbled disdainfully.

Voices echoed faintly beyond the doors. Presences gathered. Strong ones. Weak ones. Many of them.

She turned instead to the pedestal.

Two oval forms rested there, bound in chains.

“Eggs…?” she rasped. The fantasy nerd she thought she lost long ago made a brief appearance, “Dragon eggs?”

Maybe. Who knows?

A new voice.

Colder. Deeper. Undeniably attractive and amused.

It sent a strange thrill through her empty body.

She didn’t question it.

“I’ll take them,” she muttered. “Raise them.”

Her lips curled faintly.

“And then I’ll come back.”

She lifted her hands.

The eggs rose into the air, surrounded by a faint silver barrier.

“…Huh.”

A weak, cracked laugh escaped her.

“I’m actually good at this, huh?”

And with that-

She turned toward the doors.