The night after Alice accepted the Goddess of Death's blessing was unlike any she had ever known. Shadows coiled around her, thick and alive, whispering secrets in a language older than the world itself. The air in her cell grew cold, so cold her breath frosted in the darkness, but she did not shiver.
The goddess's voice echoed in her mind, soft as velvet and sharp as a blade.
You are my chosen. You are the vessel of my will. Let your pain become your strength, your sorrow become your weapon.
Alice's body trembled—not with fear, but with a new, unfamiliar power. She felt it in her veins, cold and electric, as if the darkness itself had seeped into her blood. Her red eyes glowed brighter, and her senses sharpened until she could hear the heartbeats of the rats in the walls, the distant footsteps of the guards, the slow, heavy breathing of her master in his chambers above.
She rose from her mat, her movements fluid and silent. The shadows parted for her as she walked, swirling around her ankles like loyal hounds.
The First Kill
The door to her cell was locked, as always. Alice placed her hand on the iron latch, and the metal shuddered beneath her touch. With a thought, the shadows surged, slipping through the keyhole and filling the mechanism with icy darkness. There was a faint click, and the door swung open.
She moved through the corridors like a wraith, unseen by the servants who slept fitfully in their beds. The house was silent, save for the distant crackle of the hearth in the master's chambers.
Alice paused outside his door, her heart pounding—not with fear, but with anticipation. She could hear him snoring, oblivious to the fate that crept toward him on silent feet.
She pushed the door open. The nobleman lay sprawled across his bed, his face slack and ugly in sleep. Alice stepped closer, her shadow falling over him like a shroud.
He stirred, mumbling, "Who's there?" as his eyes fluttered open.
She said nothing. With a gesture, the shadows surged from her hands, wrapping around his throat. His eyes bulged as he clawed at the darkness, but it was no use. The goddess's power flowed through Alice, cold and absolute.
She watched as the life drained from his eyes. She did not flinch. She did not cry.
When it was done, she let the shadows recede, leaving the nobleman's body limp and lifeless on the bed. She stood over him for a moment, her heart pounding with a strange, hollow satisfaction.
This is only the beginning, the goddess whispered.
Liberation
With the master dead, chaos erupted in the house. Servants screamed and fled, guards searched in vain for the killer. Alice moved through the confusion like a ghost, her presence unnoticed by those who had once tormented her.
She found the keys to the servants' quarters and unlocked every door, freeing the other slaves—girls and women who had suffered as she had. Some stared at her in awe, others in terror, but all followed her lead as she guided them through secret passages and out into the night.
They fled the city together, a ragged band of survivors led by a girl with crimson eyes and a heart forged in pain.
The Oath
When they reached the safety of the forest, Alice turned to face the group. The moonlight glinted off her eyes, casting her face in an ethereal, almost unearthly beauty.
"We are free," she said, her voice cold and steady. "But there are others like us—girls and women suffering in silence, tormented by men who believe they are untouchable. I will not rest until they are free, too. I will not rest until every man who preys on the weak is brought to justice."
Some of the women wept, others nodded grimly. One by one, they swore their loyalty to Alice, vowing to follow her wherever she led.
And so, in the darkness of the forest, the seeds of the Ebon Veil were sown—a sisterhood bound by pain and vengeance, led by the girl who would become known as the Crimson Reaper.
Far Away: The Mountain's Edge
High in the mountains, Alex trained harder than ever. Each day, he pushed his body to its limits, wielding his homemade sword against imaginary foes. He grew taller, stronger, his golden eyes hardening with resolve.
But every night, as he sat by the fire carving wooden animals, his thoughts drifted to Alice. He remembered her laughter, her fierce spirit, the way she had clung to him when afraid. He whispered her name to the stars, hoping that somewhere, somehow, she could hear him.
Liora watched her son with aching pride and sorrow. She saw the burden he carried—the guilt, the longing—and wished she could lift it from his shoulders. But she, too, was haunted by loss. Each night, she sang the old lullaby, her voice trembling with grief, hoping it might reach her daughter across the vast, uncaring world.
The Goddess's Warning
That night, as Alice sat alone beneath the trees, the goddess's voice returned.
Power comes at a price, child. The darkness will consume you if you let it. Remember who you are. Remember what you have lost.
Alice stared at her hands, now marked with faint, shadowy veins. She felt the coldness in her heart, the emptiness left by years of pain. She wondered if she could ever find her way back to the girl she had once been.
But as the first light of dawn crept through the trees, she steeled herself. There was no turning back. The world had taken everything from her. Now, she would take everything from the world.
Closing
In the city, the nobleman's death sent shockwaves through the ruling class. Whispers of a red-eyed demon spread like wildfire, and fear took root in the hearts of men who had once felt untouchable.
In the mountains, Alex dreamed of his sister—of a shadow moving through darkness, of a voice calling his name.
And in the heart of the forest, Alice began her journey—not as a victim, but as a force of vengeance, her soul forever marked by the whispers of death and life.