The night swallowed her whole as she moved, the scent of ash still clinging to her skin, the ghost of firelight flickering at the edges of her vision. The further she walked, the quieter the world became, as if the forest itself recoiled from her presence. Liria had never been afraid of silence before, but tonight, it clung to her like a shroud.
"Anywhere but here,"she’d said.
But where exactly was that?
[You need to decide,] the system murmured, its voice carrying an uncharacteristic softness. [Wandering without purpose will only make you easier to track.]
Liria let out a slow breath, watching the mist curl from her lips in the cool night air. "I know," she admitted, but the words felt hollow. For the first time in years, she was adrift. The Dark Sovereign had given her orders. She had obeyed. She had carried out her will.
So why did her stomach twist with something uncomfortably close to regret?
She shook the thought off violently. There was no place for doubt.
Yet the embers of hesitation still smoldered in her chest, a quiet defiance she hadn’t entirely stamped out.
She glanced down at her hands, flexing her fingers as the faint traces of abyssal energy pulsed beneath her skin. Power surged through her, intoxicating, undeniable. She had grown stronger. Faster. Deadlier.
But she had also become something else something unfamiliar even to herself.
[Liria,] the system prompted gently, [you’re hesitating.]
She scoffed. "No. I’m thinking."
[Since when does ’thinking’ involve staring at your own hands like they belong to someone else?]
She clenched her fists, exhaling sharply. "You’re awfully chatty today."
[Forgive me for trying to stop you from spiraling into an existential crisis in the middle of nowhere.]
"Not spiraling," she muttered. "Just… figuring things out."
[And what have you figured out?]
Liria didn’t answer immediately. The truth was, she didn’t know.
Her mother had told her that power was the only thing that mattered. That hesitation was weakness. That destruction was necessary.
And yet, standing here now, she felt the weight of her actions pressing down on her ribs like an iron vice.
Had Daena ever felt this way?
Had Enara?
A flicker of something sharp curled in her gut at the thought of Enara the memory of their fight, of her blade meeting Enara’s without hesitation, without mercy.
Would she do it again?
She didn’t want to know the answer.
Shaking the thought away, she pressed forward, moving through the darkened forest with purpose, even if she wasn’t entirely sure where that purpose led.
The stars above were indifferent to her plight, scattered like shattered glass against the abyssal sky. They had watched her burn that village. They had watched her stand among the ruins, frozen in place. And they would watch her now, as she walked away from everything.
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How ironic.
For someone who had supposedly reclaimed her destiny, she had never felt more like she was running from it.
[There’s a town up ahead,] the system informed her after a moment, breaking the silence. [Small, human-controlled. You could rest there if you wanted.]
Liria frowned. "And risk being recognized?"
[You’re not exactly subtle, but I think you can manage keeping a hood on your head.]
She scoffed. "How reassuring."
[It’s either that or keep wandering aimlessly until morning. Your call, villainess extraordinaire.]
Liria sighed, adjusting the dark cloak around her shoulders before pressing forward. A town meant people. Shelter. A chance to clear her mind.
She wasn’t sure she wanted that.
But she knew she needed it.
So, with a final glance over her shoulder toward the smoldering remnants of what she had done Liria walked toward the lights in the distance, the weight of her choices settling heavily on her shoulders.
*******
The air in the abyss rippled, shifting like a living thing as the Dark Sovereign stepped forward, her heels clicking softly against the obsidian floor. Power coiled around her like a serpent finally freed from its cage, unrestrained, unfettered. She stretched out a hand, watching as the darkness itself responded, curling around her fingers in eager submission.
She was free.
A slow, satisfied smile curved her lips. It had taken centuries, but at last, the celestial chains that had bound her to this forsaken place were shattered. And all thanks to her darling daughter.
Liria.
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The girl had done well. Better than expected, really. She had burned the village, cut down those who opposed her, wielded her strength like the weapon she was meant to be. The Dark Sovereign had felt the shift the moment it happened, the subtle but irrevocable change in the girl’s presence as she stepped fully into her power.
Or at least, that was what should have happened.
Instead, there had been hesitation.
Hesitation.
The thought alone made her fingers twitch with irritation.
Liria had followed orders. She had done what was necessary. And yet, the flickers of doubt, of hesitation, still clung to her like a stain that refused to be scrubbed clean.
That was unacceptable.
Her golden eyes darkened, and the abyss around her trembled in response. She had not spent years whispering in Liria’s ear, guiding her, molding her, only for the girl to flinch at the moment of truth.
She exhaled slowly, measured. No, this was not the time for impatience. It had been three years , three long years since Liria had come to her. And though the girl had changed, had grown, there were still remnants of the past clinging to her like rotting flesh.
She had cut away the old Liria piece by piece, yet some part of the girl still clung to who she had been.
And that… that would need to be corrected.
She lifted her hand again, and the darkness twisted in response. A window of shadows unfolded before her, the image shifting and reforming until it revealed her daughter moving through the forest, her hood pulled low over her face, the weight of her choices pressing down on her shoulders like a corpse she refused to bury.
The Dark Sovereign’s gaze lingered, watching the subtle tension in Liria’s stance, the way her fingers twitched slightly at her sides as though itching to draw her weapon. Even now, her instincts were sharp, attuned to threats unseen.
Good.
But not good enough.
She had seen the moment when the girl hesitated when she had looked down at the bodies, when something inside her had wavered.
A small thing. Insignificant to most.
But not to her.
Her jaw tightened, the flicker of displeasure burning beneath her skin.
Liria was not meant to hesitate.
Hesitation was weakness.
And weakness had no place in her kingdom.
With a wave of her hand, the shadows rippled again, shifting the image to another scene one of Enara, Daena, and the others. Their expressions, their desperate search, their futile attempts to find the girl they had lost.
Pathetic.
They still believed they could save her.
The Dark Sovereign chuckled, the sound rich and velvety, full of amused contempt.
There was no saving Liria.
She was not some lost lamb waiting to be led back to the flock. She was the storm, the abyss given form, and soon… soon she would understand that.
The time for mere whispers was over.
Now that she was free, she would not sit idly by and wait.
No.
It was time to remind her daughter who she truly was.
The Dark Sovereign turned away from the vision, her cloak of shadows trailing behind her as she stepped toward the edge of the abyss.
The world above awaited her return.
And when she arrived, she would make sure they all remembered why they had feared her name.
The Dark Sovereign did not walk she glided, her presence distorting the air, bending reality itself around her. The fabric of the abyss trembled as she stepped into the mortal realm, the thin veil between worlds shattering like brittle glass in her wake.
The night was thick with the scent of blood and burning wood, remnants of the carnage Liria had left behind. Yet, despite the destruction, there were survivors. Tch.
Weakness.
She could feel them hiding, trembling, clinging to life as though it was something they could keep.
Fools.
With a flick of her wrist, the darkness slithered outward, curling through the ruins like living tendrils, seeking out the pathetic remnants of life that dared to linger. A choked sob sounded from beneath the wreckage of a collapsed home. A man wounded, broken, but still alive.
Unacceptable.
She lifted a single hand, and the shadows obeyed. They surged forward, wrapping around his throat like a serpent tightening its grip. He gasped, eyes bulging, fingers clawing at the intangible force suffocating him.
She tilted her head, watching. He struggled oh, how they always struggled but it was meaningless.
A twist of her fingers, and the sound of bones snapping filled the air.
The body crumpled.
She barely spared it a glance.
There were more.
A mother clutching a child to her chest, whispering frantic prayers to gods that did not answer. A group of soldiers, bloodied and weary, clutching their weapons as though steel alone could defy her.
She did not need to lift a blade.
Her power was the blade.
Shadows coiled, black flames ignited, and screams filled the night.
By the time silence fell once more, there was nothing left but ruin.
She exhaled, satisfaction curling through her like a slow-burning flame.
Liria may have hesitated.
But she did not.
And soon, her daughter would learn that hesitation had no place in their world.