Chapter 101: The Pulse Beneath the Ashes
The pendant throbbed faintly.
Though tucked tightly in Elara's pouch, it pulsed with a warmth neither girl noticed as they trekked through the dense forest. Each step back toward the village felt heavier, the trees watching them, the sky brooding above like an omen.
It began with a drizzle—strange and metallic.
Then came the stench of iron.
Ariella looked up first, her face twisting in horror. "Elara… it's blood."
Thick crimson rain fell from a cloudless sky. It painted their hair, their cloaks, the earth. Then the whispers began.
"Elara betrayed you," hissed a voice in Ariella's ear, soft as wind. "She wanted the pendant for herself. She'll sacrifice you to save Albert."
Ariella turned sharply, her eyes now gleaming with suspicion.
"Elara, give me the pendant."
"What?" Elara took a step back. "No. We need it to—"
"You don't care about saving the village. You just want Albert."
"I don't!" Elara shouted. "You've lost your mind!"
"No, you have!" Ariella screamed.
They lunged at each other, fury blinding. Lightning cracked in the red sky, illuminating blades drawn—Elara's dagger, Ariella's staff. Magic burst from their hands as memories twisted into poison.
Elara saw Ariella morph into the Shrouded One. She struck without hesitation. Ariella saw Elara laughing beside the Master. She attacked in a rage.
Wounds tore open across their skin. Blood mixed with blood, soaking the soil. Branches splintered, earth cracked, cries pierced the storm—but neither relented. The blood rain screamed with them.
Then—
"You are not enemies," came a sound, like wind through chimes, deep inside their skulls.
It was the Queens.
"This is not real. The rain lies. The forest deceives. Say it. Say the truth."
A voice echoed in both girls' minds, ancient and steady:
"We are of light, not shadow. We are two, not torn. We are the chosen—always chosen."
The chant reached into their rage like hands breaking chains.
Elara, panting and trembling, whispered through clenched teeth, "We are two, not torn… We are the chosen."
Ariella, barely standing, echoed it. "We are of light… not shadow…"
And the blood rain stopped.
All at once, the world was still. The trees sighed, the earth softened. The illusion shattered.
Ariella dropped her weapon. Elara collapsed beside her. Their eyes met—wild, wide, human.
"I—I almost killed you," Ariella whispered.
"So did I." Elara crawled into her arms.
They clung to each other like sisters long lost, their bodies battered, their hearts raw. "I'm sorry," they said at the same time, again and again.
The pendant between them pulsed softly, not in pain—but in approval.
---
Their journey resumed, though slower now. Their limbs ached, and trust, though restored, still shimmered fragile beneath their steps.
But peace was not yet theirs.
A sudden quake cracked the trail ahead, and before they could move, the earth split open, revealing a jagged pit of darkness. From it rose twisted roots, forming the shape of a great, gnarled beast—eyeless, faceless, yet groaning with pain.
"What in the Queens' name—?" Elara gasped.
The creature lunged. Ariella blasted it with light, but the thing absorbed the spell. Elara hurled her blade, but it vanished into the void.
Then they heard it.
Not a roar.
A cry.
"It's not a beast," Ariella whispered. "It's a soul."
The roots thrashed, revealing corpses tangled inside. Villagers. Children. Bound in bark and shadow.
"It's feeding off the ones who died while we were away," Elara realized. "It's grief made real."
The girls closed their eyes and clasped hands.
Not magic. Not weapons.
But mourning.
They began to sing—not a spell, but a song of farewell, a gentle call to weary souls:
"Release your pain, drift on the breeze... the night is kind, find your ease... beyond this world, let sorrow cease... and rest in endless peace..."
The creature shuddered.
"No more chains, no more cries... in the quiet beyond the skies... your journey ends, your spirit flies... embrace your new sunrise..."
The pit screamed.
And then it vanished, the roots curling inward like closing fingers, returning to the ground. Silence followed. A single flower bloomed where it once stood.
They pressed on, weak but unbroken.
---
Back in the village, suffering had replaced silence.
The riverbed lay dry, its pebbled floor cracked and stinking of rot. The villagers collapsed beside it, mouths parched, eyes sunken. Children begged for water. The old passed in their sleep.
In the middle of it all, Albert stood—his hand outstretched above the river, channeling power that did not feel like his.
Behind him, Shaza's smoke writhed, thick and waiting.
"You've done well," came the shadow's voice.
Albert didn't respond. His eyes stayed on the villagers' bodies, small and still.
One girl had been painting birds on her fence a week ago. She now lay motionless by the well, her paints dried into mud.
Albert's chest burned. "If you want to rule them… why kill them?"
The smoke circled around his shoulders. "Because I gave them a choice. I offered peace. The girls refused."
"They refused you—not the village," Albert said, voice brittle.
"They stand in my way. So the village must suffer until they submit. It's the only language they understand."
Albert swallowed. "But what about the others? The Shrouded One. The Master. Even Laxman. They tried too. They died."
"They were weak," Shaza hissed. "The Shrouded One had doubts. The Master let sentiment poison him. Laxman thought too small. You are none of them."
"But they were once children, too. Like me."
The smoke thickened.
"You question me, son?"
Albert hesitated.
The pendant, pressed against his ribs beneath his shirt, throbbed once.
Then again.
Shaza leaned closer, voice low and heavy. "Do not forget who saved you. I gave you purpose. I gave you truth. That woman in the diary? She left you. I claimed you."
"She didn't leave me," Albert whispered.
But it was weak.
The shadow smiled, feeling the doubt crack open again.
"Let me show you more," Shaza said. "More than words. More than lies. Let me show you everything."
Smoke crept over Albert's face.
And he did not pull away.