District 6. One week ago…
——
It was the kind of afternoon that made the whole world feel gentle.
Sunlight spilled through the trees in golden threads. Children shrieked and laughed across the wide, grassy field, chasing bubbles, playing tag, launching drones into the sky. Someone strummed a guitar beneath a flowering oak while the air smelled of caramel popcorn and sun-warmed bark.
Rhesa sat on a checkered picnic blanket, still as a sculpture, dressed in a flowing blue dress. A wide straw hat shaded her warm, golden-brown skin. Her posture was regal, though her forehead itched like crazy.
'Just a second,' she thought, her fingers twitching.
But then Anya cried, "Mom, don't!"
Rhesa sighed and let her hand fall. "How did you know?"
"You always look guilty right before you move," Anya muttered, her eyes fixed on the small canvas in front of her. "And you always move when I'm halfway through the nose."
"Well, it's a very itchy nose. It might be an emergency," Rhesa said with a grin.
"No moving!" Anya ordered. "Just one more minute."
Rhesa bit her lip, fighting a laugh. Her daughter was so serious when she painted, brows furrowed, tongue poking slightly out, little fingers smudged with streaks of green and blue.
"Mooom, you ruined the face," Anya groaned, then her voice softened. "…Okay, done."
She stood, brushing grass from her knees, and handed over the painting.
Rhesa studied it. The piece was wonderfully chaotic. The eyes were too large, the proportions skewed, and her hat somehow floated above her head, but there was warmth in every stroke.
"It's beautiful," Rhesa said with a smile. "You made me look taller and scarier than I actually am."
Anya giggled. "You already look scary. I made you look cool."
Rhesa pulled her close and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I love it."
There had been a time, only a year ago, when Anya hadn't spoken a single word due to her selective mutism. But now, every sentence was a gift. Her voice was still soft and rare, but it existed, and Rhesa guarded it like treasure.
Anya nestled beside her, still clutching the paintbrush.
"When will Dad and Ren be back?"
"Soon," Rhesa murmured, brushing a strand of hair from her daughter's eyes. "They're not far."
Right on cue, footsteps crunched across the grass.
"Ladies," Simon called, lifting a pastry box. "Miss us?"
He wore a loose white shirt and black slacks with his sleeves rolled up, his smile carrying just a hint of smugness. Ren followed close behind, balancing drinks, his hair damp at the edges, hoodie sleeves shoved to his elbows.
"Dad!" Anya sprinted to meet him, latching onto his side. "You took forever!"
"They had a line out the door at Sugar and Whisk," Simon said with a laugh, kissing the top of her head. "But we got your favorite… triple raspberry dream."
Ren lifted the cups. "And we're stuck with boring tea?"
"Detox," Simon shrugged. "Your mom's idea, not mine."
Rhesa stood, brushing grass from her dress. "Let me guess, you forgot mine again?"
Simon grinned and leaned in to kiss her. "Almost. Then I remembered your weird pistachio obsession."
He handed her a cup. "Detox pistachio ginger… disgusting and overpriced. Just how you like it."
Rhesa chuckled as she accepted the drink.
The family settled again around the blanket. Then Anya tugged Ren down beside her, eager to show off the painting. Ren squinted, tilting his head as he studied it. "…Is that Mom?"
Anya nodded proudly.
He snorted. "Why does she look like a crochet plushie made by someone who hated yarn?"
Anya's smile dropped, then she launched herself at him with a series of tiny, indignant smacks.
"Okay! Okay!" Ren laughed, shielding himself as she swatted at him with both hands. "I'm sorry! I just… her face is all wrong, the hat's already flying away, and her eyes… why are they so wide? Was she possessed while you were painting?"
Anya pouted.
"She moved. I told her not to move," she muttered, almost too low to hear. Then she rolled her eyes and leaned against him.
Rhesa, watching from across the blanket, tried to hold back her laugh and failed. "I didn't move, honey." She brushed a strand of chestnut hair behind her ear and smiled. "And Ren, go easy on your sister. I think she did a wonderful job."
Ren scoffed and took a slow sip of his tea, trying to hide his smirk as Anya stuck out her tongue in mockery, earning a brief, amused glance from him.
Simon smiled as he unpacked slices of cake, half-listening to the children's squabble. Beside him, Rhesa leaned back on her hands and closed her eyes, letting the warmth of the afternoon wash over her. She drew in a long, steady breath and smiled.
Everything was perfect: her family, the laughter, the chatter drifting across the blanket, the distant sounds of children playing, the golden sun… even the wind.
For a moment it felt like the world was in perfect harmony, as if nothing could ever fall out of place. As if this peace might last forever.
That was why she noticed the change at once.
It was not movement and it was not sound. It was the absence of both. The laughter faltered first, fading into silence, and then even the air grew still. Then her chest tightened as a familiar scent stung her nose.
'Blood.' she thought. 'It smells like blood.'
It was not blood from a wound. This was different. The scent was old, sour and unnatural like rusted iron left too long in the rain. Rhesa turned, and across the street a figure was walking toward them. Pale-skinned and slender, he moved with quiet purpose, his crimson coat trailing along the ground. His hair was dark, his eyes unreadable, and the aura around him cut through the air, striking Rhesa like a blade sliding beneath her ribs.
"Anele," she whispered.
Simon turned to her, blinking in confusion. "What?"
He felt her body tense and instinctively edged closer. "Hon…?"
"Get behind me," Rhesa said sharply, her voice low.
She rose quickly, guiding Anya behind her with one hand, her gaze fixed on the figure across the street.
"Simon, take them and step back. Now," she ordered coldly.
"Rhesa…" he began, hesitating.
"Simon, now!" Her tone sliced through the air like a blade.
Anya froze, her small fingers reaching instinctively for Rhesa's hand.
Meanwhile, Ren's body tensed beside them. He felt it too, some sort of pressure in the air, as if the entire world had inhaled and then refused to exhale.
'Who… is this guy? Why does it feel like the air's crushing me the closer he gets?' he thought, eyes locked on the approaching figure.
The figure crossed the grass slowly and a dozen families were already packing up, drawn away by some instinct they did not understand.
He stopped a few meters from them, his shadow stretching long across the grass. Then his lips curled into a grin, and when he spoke, his voice carried a chill that seemed to sink beneath the skin. "Ah… so this is where you've been hiding, Rhesa. Kyrios of the Iron Will."
"What the hell is going on?" Simon whispered.
But Rhesa didn't answer, her eyes remained fixed on the man. Then she asked in a stern voice.
"What are you doing here, Anele? You know this district is mine."
"No warm welcome?" Anele retorted, spreading his arms like someone seeing an old friend after a long time. "Tsk. I expected more from you. After all, it's been years."
"You're trespassing," Rhesa said coldly. "There was no prior declaration of intent. You know the rules. Kyrios don't step into another's domain without one. So tell me, Anele… what brings you here uninvited?"
A wide, unnatural grin spread across Anele's face. "You always were so formal. Blame your affliction, I suppose. It always made you so rigid. But let's speak plainly, shall we?"
He took another step closer, and the air seemed to thicken around them. "You missed the last Dominion Council, and the few before that. Come now, Rhesa. That is not just rude," his grin widened. "It is treason."
Rhesa didn't respond and her expression remained unreadable.
Anele continued, his voice casual, almost taunting. "You ignore our summons. You no longer show up to the Council of Kyrios. Why?"
He gestured lazily at the picnic, the blanket and the child clinging behind her.
"Because you've gone soft?" he said, lifting two fingers into mocking quotation marks. "Built yourself a family? A pretend little world?"
"Speak your purpose," Rhesa said flatly. "Or leave. You won't get a second warning."
Anele's smile vanished and an expression of disgust settled over his face. "I came here to kill you."
The words struck like thunder, loud and utterly sincere.
Simon instinctively pulled Anya behind him.
Ren reached out, but his hand trembled.
'Why are my hands shaking?' he thought. 'But I'm not scared…' Then a deeper thought crept in. 'Wait. Why am I not scared?'
Across, Anele continued, his voice now dead and toneless. "You're either with us, or you're in the ground. And you've chosen wrong."
Rhesa took a single step forward, her eyes cold. "You've always been a monster. You use our afflictions as excuses to indulge in violence. But this hatred isn't your burden. It's who you are."
Anele's smile returned, slow and stretching like a wound, as he said, "Touching."
Rhesa glanced over her shoulder: first at Anya, trembling but silent, then at Simon, who gripped her daughter's hand, and finally at Ren, whose eyes burned with questions he was too young to voice.
She turned back to Anele then said in a somber voice. "Let's not do this here. There are civilians everywhere: families, children, humans with no means to protect themselves. If we fight, this district won't survive it. You know that."
Anele's expression shifted, like someone who'd just tasted something foul.
"Civilians? Humans?"
Then he laughed, loud and unhinged. He dragged a hand across his pale face, fingers threading back through his hair with mockery in every movement.
"Are you kidding me, Rhesa?" He jabbed a finger at some of the onlookers who had paused to watch. "Do I look like someone who gives a damn about these lowly creatures?"
Behind Rhesa, Anya clung to her mother's dress with one hand, the other clutching her worn teddy bear against her chest.
Rhesa could feel it now, her emotions surfacing late, as they always did. Regret, sadness… and beneath it all, rage.
A quiet sigh slipped from her lips.
She was powerful, one of the strongest Kyrios still breathing. Few in the world could rival her. But Anele… Anele wasn't merely strong. He was wrong. Twisted by a power that thrived on violence, that swelled with every scream, every drop of blood spilled. To call him an abomination would almost be an understatement.
To stop him, she would need to use all her power. But her her power wasn't made for control. It was cataclysmic by design. A force of ruin. If she truly let go, ten, maybe twenty miles would fall with her. Innocents would be caught in the storm. Lives shattered… not just by Anele, but by her.
And worst of all, every soul lost would only feed him, make him stronger, make her sacrifice meaningless.
She watched as he slowly drew a blade from inside his coat. Nothing ornate, just polished bone and black steel. Then his expression darkened.
"Tsk. I really liked this coat," Anele sighed. "Should've worn something sleeveless… but alas."
Then, without hesitation, Anele plunged the blade into his own shoulder.
Simon flinched. "What are you…?"
But Anya screamed. The sound tore through the air, sharp, high, and full of terror. Simon reacted instantly, pulling her close and shielding her eyes.
Ren stumbled back a step, gasping, eyes wide with horror.
But Anele smiled.
With eerie calm, he dragged the blade from his shoulder down to his wrist, the slice slow and accompanied by a wet, unnatural sound.
Blood gushed… then halted.
A single droplet floated up into the air, curling gently. Another followed, drifting beside it.
Then, more blood rose from the large wound in his hand, shimmering like thread pulled through a needle. Even the blood that had fallen to the ground began to float upward, too.
One by one, the drops gathered, spinning and merging, until they formed a perfect sphere of blood, quivering in the air like a heart on the verge of collapse.
Then it began to bulge, swelling outward, expanding until it was the size of a car… then larger. And it kept growing.
"Throne of the Bleeding Sky," Anele whispered.
The sphere pulsed, then split.
Dozens of tendrils shot out in every direction like veins bursting from an artery, slamming into the grass and slicing the air. Screams tore through the park as the sun flickered and the clouds above began to turn crimson. The light changed, and the world looked… wrong.
Meanwhile, Ren dropped to his knees, clutching his chest. Water pooled in his lungs. For some reason, his body was reacting and he didn't know why.
Across from him, Anele's eyes rolled back and the orb above him began to rise, enormous now, red as a second sun. Its surface churned like boiling blood, and within it, faces began to form. They pressed against the surface, straining as if trying to escape.
Every living creature in the park that saw the orb felt it, an instinctive dread, as if something horrific had just been unleashed into the world.
Rhesa clenched her fists and the air around her shimmered faintly as if distorted by pressure.
She looked at her family one last time: Simon, Ren, Anya. And for the first time in a long while… she felt fear. Not for herself, but for them.