Lyrrise's POV...
The crack of the branch echoed again, and this time I turned.
"Lyrrise?!"
Mathilda stood there, her scythe strapped across her back, her face a mix of confusion and suspicion. Her boots crunched against the deadwood leaves as she stepped closer, narrowing her eyes at me.
"What are you doing out here, away from the academy walls? Don't tell me you're—"
Before she could finish, I felt Rael nudge me from behind. When I glanced down, he was already in his black cat form, tail flicking in irritation, eyes glowing faintly in the dark. Lior crouched next to him, now a tall, sleek hound, her emerald fur shimmering faintly under the moonlight. Both slipped into the brush, blending into the shadows before Mathilda's gaze could land on them.
My pulse quickened. If Mathilda saw them, it would all fall apart.
"I… needed air," I lied, forcing my voice steady. "After everything that happened, the alarms, the fight with the Riftborn… I just… couldn't breathe in there anymore."
Mathilda tilted her head, studying me, the faint pout she always carried tugging at her lips. "You always say that when you're trying to hide something, Lyrrise. I can tell."
I swallowed hard. "I'm not hiding—"
"Then where are you going?" she pressed, stepping closer until her eyes bore into mine.
Behind me, the bush rustled softly. I prayed Mathilda wouldn't look down. If she saw the glint of Rael's eyes or the shimmer of Lior's fur, there'd be no turning back.
Mathilda wouldn't stop.
Her eyes narrowed, her voice sharp, cutting through the quiet forest.
"Lyrrise, you've been acting strange for weeks. First Cyril notices it, now me. You disappear at night, your sword's gone, and suddenly you're carrying another one nobody's ever seen before. Tell me the truth—what's going on?"
Each word pressed against my chest like a blade. I clenched my fists. In the brush behind me, I could feel Rael's presence like a shadow and Lior's steady, watchful gaze. If Mathilda saw them, everything I'd been protecting would unravel.
"Mathilda…" I began, my voice trembling.
She stepped closer. "Don't give me excuses again. I'm your teammate. If something's wrong, I deserve to know. So talk to me, Lyrrise!"
My throat burned. I bit my lip so hard it nearly bled. Why couldn't she just stop asking? Why couldn't she just trust me, for once, without tearing into the secrets I wasn't ready to share?
Finally, I snapped.
"It's none of your business!" I shouted, the words ripping out of me before I could hold them back. My voice echoed into the trees, harsh and unrelenting. Mathilda froze, her mouth opening slightly, her usual confident eyes wide with shock.
I glared at her, chest heaving. "You don't have to interfere in everything I do, Mathilda. Just… leave it. Please."
Her silence stung worse than any blade. For a second, I thought I saw her pout soften into hurt, but I couldn't look at her any longer.
Turning away, I stormed off into the dark, leaving Mathilda standing behind me. Her scythe glimmered faintly in the moonlight, but her voice didn't follow me this time.
For the first time, I had pushed her away.
The night air felt heavier after I walked away from Mathilda. Each step was quieter than the last, but my mind was deafening.
Why did I yell at her? She didn't deserve that. She was only worried, only trying to reach me, and I shoved her away like she meant nothing.
I hugged my arms tight around myself, the sting in my chest sharper than any wound.
Rael, perched lazily on a low branch in his cat form, rolled his glowing eyes.
"Stop sulking, princess. You snapped at her. So what? It's only normal. Humans argue all the time. She'll get over it."
I frowned, glaring at him. "You don't understand. She's my friend."
Rael tilted his head, tail flicking with amusement. "Friends fight. Big deal. If she cares, she'll come back. If not, maybe she wasn't as loyal as you thought."
Before I could snap back at him, Lior's voice cut through the tension. She was crouched low, her sharp white eyes narrowing at the ground beneath us. Her tone was calm, but serious.
"Quiet. Something's wrong here."
I blinked. "Wrong? How?"
"The earth is trembling," she said softly, pressing her palm against the dirt. "They're moving. Riftborns. Underground."
My stomach tightened. "Underground? I thought they only appeared outside the walls, or from rifts in the sky."
Lior finally stood, brushing her hands against her legs, her expression grave yet collected.
"Not all of them. There are different kinds of Riftborns, Lyrrise. Different origins, different layers of where they dwell. The ones you've seen until now? Those are surface-born, the most common. But beneath the surface…" She paused, as if weighing whether to continue.
I swallowed, urging her to go on.
Lior nodded. "Listen carefully. There are types you should know: Skyclad Riftborns — the ones you fought on the rooftops. Creatures of the blood moon, born from twisted air and light. Abyssal Riftborns — the ones below us. They burrow, unseen, and when they rise, entire cities collapse into their tunnels. Eclipsed — half-human, half-riftborn, like Rael and me. Dangerous not for our claws, but for our minds. Hollowborns — shadows made flesh. They do not think, they only consume. You'll know them when the air goes silent."
Her white eyes flicked up to mine, sharp as knives.
"And last…" She hesitated, almost unwilling to say it. "…there are the Primordials. The first Riftborns. Ancient. Godlike. The ones even Aralin fears."
The hairs on my arms stood on end. I clenched my fists tighter. "And they're all real?"
Lior gave a single nod. "Every last one. And the fact I feel the Abyssals stirring means something has changed. They don't wake without reason."
Rael stretched out, yawning as if it wasn't terrifying. "Great. More monsters to deal with. Just what we needed."
But I could feel my heart pounding, heavy and cold. If what Lior said was true, then what we'd faced until now was only the surface of a nightmare much deeper.
The ground rumbled beneath my boots—low at first, then violent, like the earth itself was splitting apart. Dust rose from the cracks, buildings in the distance shuddering as if struck by some invisible force.
Then came the sound.
Not a roar, not a scream—something worse. The sharp, dragging echo of stone being sliced apart from below. It made my bones vibrate, made my teeth ache.
My stomach turned cold.
When I whipped around, my breath hitched. The entire city behind me was trembling, streets splitting open, rooftops shaking, terrified voices echoing in the night. People were running, pointing, some already screaming.
"No…" I whispered, my chest tightening. "I have to go back—"
But before I could move, a firm hand caught my wrist. Rael—still in his human form, his crimson eyes locked onto mine with sharp intensity.
"Don't. Not now."
I yanked against his grip, panic rising in my throat. "They'll die! The city—my friends—they need me!"
Rael shook his head, his expression darker than I'd ever seen it.
"Listen to me. If you go back now, you'll run straight into the Abyssal slavers. That's what they do—tear the ground open, drag people into tunnels, and they're never seen again. You can't save them all."
My heart pounded painfully at his words, my eyes darting from his face to the chaos unfolding behind us. "Then what do we do?!"
He let go of my wrist, stepping forward. His tone was cold, determined.
"We fight the one in front of us first."
As if summoned by his words, the dirt ahead of us split wide open with a thunderous crack. The stench of rot and damp earth hit me in the face, and then—slowly—something clawed its way out.
Its limbs were too long, its body twisted with jagged stone-like skin. Rows of glowing red eyes blinked from within its gaping maw as it dragged itself free of the earth, hissing with hunger.
Lior stepped forward beside me, her bow already in her hands. She didn't flinch, her voice steady as ever.
"Abyssal Riftborn. And it's hungry."
I tightened my grip, my blood already shaping itself into a blade in my hand. My legs trembled, but I forced myself to stand tall.
This was no time for fear.
The Abyssal Riftborn let out a screech that clawed at my ears, but I didn't hesitate. My blood surged through my veins, hot and sharp, answering the rage boiling inside me. In one fluid motion, the blade formed—red, glimmering, alive. My blood katana.
"Get out of my way!" I roared.
I dashed forward, slicing through the air with every ounce of strength I had. The Riftborn's limbs lashed out, claws dragging across the dirt, but my blade cut cleaner, faster. One strike—its arm fell. Another slash—its body split open, black ichor spilling across the ground.
But there were more.
Dozens of Abyssals clawed their way up from the cracks, eyes glowing like embers in the shadows. They swarmed, hissing, screeching, hungry for flesh.
I didn't stop.
Each step forward was a blur of red steel and blood. I carved through them one by one, my breath harsh, my muscles screaming, but I didn't slow down. Their bodies collapsed behind me like broken puppets, the ground soaked in their foul stench.
It didn't take long. The last Riftborn fell with a gurgling cry, and silence followed.
I didn't even look back.
My heart hammered as I bolted toward the city, my boots slamming against the broken earth. I had to make it—I had to protect them. My chest tightened as the thought of my parents, my friends, Cyril, everyone inside the academy crossed my mind.
But then—
I skidded to a stop.
The sky.
It was wrong.
By now, the sun should've been rising. A sliver of light, even the faintest hue of morning should've been breaking through the horizon. But above me, it was still the same—dark crimson clouds swirling, the blood moon hanging heavy and unmoving.
Still Dris.
My stomach sank. My breaths came fast, uneven.
"No… this isn't right. It should be over by now."
Something—or someone—was holding the night in place.
And if that was true, then this battle was only the beginning.
The crimson sky churned, the blood moon swelling larger as if it were staring down at me. My breaths were ragged, my hands trembling against the weight of my katana, when a voice cut through the silence—deep, steady, and disturbingly calm.
"I told you I'd give you one month, didn't I?"
I froze.
That voice—too familiar, too sharp to mistake. My head turned slowly, and from the shadows of the fractured city walls, he appeared.
Tall. Towering. A white mask covering his face, only those glowing red eyes staring at me with terrifying certainty.
Aralin.
My throat tightened. My nails dug into my palms.
"But," he continued, stepping closer, "I realized… why should I wait for your answer, daughter? My Abyssal children hungered. So I fed them this city." His voice dripped with twisted pride. "It is only natural for my creations to feast."
I clenched my katana so hard blood trickled down my wrist.
"You… you monster."
Behind me, the bushes rustled—Rael and Lior burst out, no longer hiding. They rushed to my side, weapons drawn, their forms radiating tension.
"Aralin," Lior hissed, string already glowing around her hands.
"Brother," Rael spat, mask materializing across his face, voice trembling with restrained rage.
But before either of them could move, I stepped forward, blocking them with my arm.
"Lyrrise?" Rael's voice cracked, shocked.
"Stay back." My voice came out sharper than I intended, but my chest was on fire with determination.
Lior frowned, her white eyes narrowing. "What are you saying?"
"Save the people in the city," I demanded, not looking at them. My eyes never left Aralin. "That's your mission. This fight…" I lifted my blade, its crimson glow reflecting the bloody sky. "…is mine."
Rael stiffened, disbelief flickering in his gaze. "You can't mean—"
"I do," I snapped, cutting him off. "Go. Now."
The silence hung for a moment. Then Lior and Rael exchanged a look, their faces pale, their shock evident.
They understood.
This wasn't just another Riftborn attack. This was the fight between me—and the man who called himself my father.
And when Aralin tilted his head, watching us like prey beneath a predator's shadow, I knew this was the beginning of the true war.
The first strike rang out like thunder. My blade of blood clashed against his obsidian scythe, sparks and crimson droplets scattering into the air.
I pushed forward with every ounce of strength I had, but Aralin didn't falter. He parried, twisted, and swung as though we were equals—no, worse, as though he were holding back.
My heart hammered. My lungs burned. Yet I didn't stop. I couldn't stop.
Every strike, every slash, every desperate kick—it didn't matter how much my arms screamed in pain. My body moved on instinct, fueled by fury.
Aralin, however, only laughed.
"That's it… yes, daughter. Show me that fire. Do you see now? We're the same." His scythe collided with my katana, sparks exploding. "What I do, I do for you. For your best."
"For me?!" I shouted, forcing my blade against his, my teeth grinding as blood trickled from my lip. "If they knew what I am, do you really think they'd treat me the same again?"
His laugh grew louder, unshaken.
"They will bow to you. Fear you. Respect you as they respect me."
I screamed, shoving him back with a sudden surge of crimson light from my katana. "You're the worst father!"
The words tore from my chest, hotter than fire, heavier than steel.
Aralin tilted his head, mask gleaming under the red moonlight. His silence almost drowned me until I breathed out the words I had buried deep inside.
"The only father I will ever call my own… is Aelric."
The world seemed to still.
For the first time, Aralin's laughter stopped. His grip on his scythe tightened, and his red eyes narrowed through the mask's hollow gaze.
"You dare," he whispered, voice dropping low with venom. "You dare compare me to that weakling?"
I raised my blade again, blood dripping at my feet.
"I don't compare," I said, voice trembling but firm. "I choose. And I'll never choose you."
With that, I lunged again.
The air shifted.
It wasn't just the cold sting of Dris anymore—it was suffocating, pressing down on my chest like a mountain. Aralin's laugh was gone, replaced with a silence so heavy it rattled the marrow in my bones.
"You think you can defy me?" His voice was low, almost a growl, echoing through the still air. His scythe began to bleed black mist, swallowing the faint moonlight. "Then I will remind you what it means to reject your blood."
He moved faster than before. I barely caught his strike in time, the force sending me flying back across the broken stone. My katana vibrated in my hand, almost shattering.
He's faster. Stronger. This isn't like before.
Aralin stepped forward slowly, each stride deliberate, towering like a shadow I couldn't escape. "You are mine, Lyrrise. I created Riftborns. I created you."
My chest heaved, blood dripping down my arm, but I lifted my blade anyway. "You didn't create me. You ruined everything."
He lunged again, scythe descending like a guillotine. My blood instinctively surged, hardening into crimson armor around my arms as I blocked. The impact shook through my whole body, but—this time—it didn't break me.
A glow. A pulse. It wasn't just the bloody moon above. It was coming from inside me.
The blood on the ground rippled, rising as if pulled by invisible strings. My wounds sealed faster, and my vision sharpened until every vein of crimson light around us became visible.
Aralin's eyes narrowed behind his mask. "So… it's begun."
"What?" I hissed, forcing his scythe away and slashing at him with a double swing.
He deflected with ease, but his tone had shifted—no longer mocking, but calculating.
"The awakening of your second core. Energy deflection was never your limit… no, you've inherited something far more dangerous."
I didn't understand his words, but I felt it—raw, searing power rushing through me, not just blood, but something deeper, older.
I screamed, charging forward, both katanas blazing with crimson fire. For the first time, Aralin's scythe trembled under the clash.
And for the first time… Aralin bled.
Something inside me snapped.
The fury I had been holding back surged like a raging storm, flooding every vein with fire. My vision burned red, brighter than the bloody moon itself, and my hands no longer felt like my own. My grip tightened on the katana of blood—yet I wasn't the one guiding it anymore.
"I'LL KILL YOU!" The scream tore from my throat, raw and broken, but the sound… it didn't even feel human.
I lunged forward, slashing with no rhythm, no hesitation, only rage. Each strike carried the weight of something darker, sharper, more violent than I had ever known. My blade cracked the ground, tore the air itself, leaving trails of red energy sparking like fire.
Aralin only laughed, even as he parried, even as his mask cracked under the force of my blows. "Yes… YES! That's it, Lyrrise! Let it take you! Become what you were born to be!"
But I couldn't stop. I couldn't. The wrath inside me coiled tighter, like a beast unchained. My arms swung without command, my feet moving faster than my thoughts. My own blood gushed from my palms as I forced it into the blades, making them grow longer, heavier, sharper.
I wasn't fighting him anymore. I was fighting the thing inside me.
The world blurred. My heartbeat thundered in my ears. I felt myself slipping—piece by piece—like my soul was drowning beneath an ocean of crimson.
Somewhere faintly, far away, I heard Rael's voice.
"Lyrrise… stop… if you keep going, you'll—"
But his words didn't reach me.
Because the wrath had already devoured me whole.