The silence after battle was the loudest.
Ariana sat beside Clara, her fingers gently brushing sweat-drenched strands of hair from the girl's forehead. Clara stirred, lashes fluttering. Her pulse was faint, but steady.
Damien stood at the door of the chamber, watching. Guarded. Still. Like he could feel something Ariana couldn't.
But she felt it too.
Not fear.
Not relief.
Something else.
"Clara," Ariana whispered. "It's me. It's over. You're safe."
Clara's eyes opened.
And for a split second, Ariana froze.
They weren't the soft gray she remembered.
They were black.
Void-like. Bottomless.
But then they flickered—back to normal. Just a blink.
Clara groaned, confused. "Ariana? Is that…?"
"Yeah. You're okay now."
But Damien didn't relax. His fists were clenched. His jaw tight.
"She's marked," he said.
"What?" Ariana turned, frowning.
"She's wearing Xander's curse. It's buried deep. Hidden. Like a seed waiting to hatch."
Ariana shook her head. "She's just dazed. She was tortured."
Clara sat up slowly, looking between them. "What's going on?"
Damien didn't move. "He got to her. He wants us to bring her with us."
---
Hours later.
They made camp just outside the Bastion's perimeter, the night thick with fog.
Ariana stayed by Clara's side while Damien scouted. The air between the girls was cold, despite the fire. Clara's movements were mechanical. Her voice too smooth. Her smiles didn't reach her eyes.
Then came the slip.
"I missed you," Clara said. "He showed me what you are now. He showed me your mark. He was… right."
Ariana's breath caught.
She hadn't said anything about the mark.
Not to Clara. Not to anyone.
"Who showed you?"
Clara's head tilted. Just slightly. "You know."
Ariana stood slowly. Every instinct screamed.
Then Clara's voice changed—low and wrong.
> "He said you'd hesitate. That your heart would get in the way. That's why you'll die first."
A blast of black flame erupted from Clara's mouth.
Ariana dove just in time—fire slicing through the ground behind her.
Clara rose—no longer Clara. Her body twisted, black veins crawling up her neck. Her eyes were pure shadow.
---
Damien appeared in a blur.
But Ariana was already on her feet—daggers drawn.
"She's gone," he said grimly.
"She's still in there."
"She'd beg you to kill her, if she were."
Clara attacked—fangs bared, claws grown.
Ariana fought her with tears in her eyes.
Damien held back, letting Ariana lead. She needed to finish it.
Clara snarled, lunging, voice warped. "You think he loves you? He'll destroy you. Just like he destroyed me."
"I don't belong to your master," Ariana hissed.
Then she drove the blade through Clara's chest.
A scream tore from Clara's lips—a mix of rage and relief.
The darkness burned from her eyes.
She collapsed.
Dead.
---
Ariana knelt over her, silent.
Damien stood behind her.
"I had to," she whispered. "I didn't want to. But I had to."
"You didn't hesitate," he said.
She turned to him, eyes wet.
"No. Not anymore."
He knelt, brushed blood from her face, and kissed her hard.
She didn't resist.
Because tonight, they'd lost a piece of what little innocence they had left.
And there was no turning back.