"You will never have my will," she hissed in direct response to Malus. "And I will not ask."
The girl, in one final act of defiance against the voice that haunted her, attempted the only thing Elara had taught her for the Seal: the Meditation of Repulsion—a Luminary technique meant to calm and redirect energy. She pressed her hands against the Aether Barrier, searching for peace. The Barrier answered with a mocking hum, its light intensifying. The Luminary energy was her own jailer, repelling her futile attempt.
Next, she tried the next step—physical force. She pressed her shoulders against the invisible field, then struck it with her fist. The Barrier did not yield; it only burned her, leaving the skin of her palms red and sore.
"You cannot fight the Light by its own rules," Malus hissed, his voice in her mind clearer than ever. "You are Shadow. Accept your gift."
Lilith hesitated. She looked at the Black Mark. She felt the depth of betrayal. They had made her believe she was a Luminary. They had condemned her to a life of darkness without even granting her the right to understand that darkness. The Resentment boiled, more potent than any spell.
She closed her eyes.
She left Argos's sadness behind and embraced the hatred. She thought of Elara's cold gaze, the Luminaries' arrogance, the stolen life. The hatred, cold and cutting, came like a torrent. It was no longer Malus's rage—it was her own.
Lilith raised her left hand—the hand of the Black Mark—and pressed it directly against the Aether Barrier.
At the moment of contact, the Luminary Aether, which should have been warm and protective, screamed in agony. There was no explosion, no fire. There was Annulment.
A pulse of dark energy, dense and cold, emanated from Lilith. It was Pure Shadow—the antidote to existence. Wherever the Shadow touched, the Aether Barrier faded. The shimmering light of Elara's prison did not shatter; it simply vanished, like a forgotten concept. The power was absolute and final.
Lilith gasped—not from exertion, but from the overwhelming, terrifying pleasure that flooded her.
"Wonderful," Malus murmured in a hoarse delight.
The Barrier was gone. The Vale was open. Lilith was free, yet the silence of the place was now filled only with the voice of her General.
She opened her eyes, the red in her irises a little deeper than before. She had reached her power—and it tasted like Resentment.
Lilith didn't wait for the feeling of power to fade. She turned her back on the trail of disintegrated Aether and ran just far enough to leave the immediate area of the Seal's ruins, reaching the edge of the Vale.
Elara's sanctuary had been built atop a rocky slope. From there, the world stretched beneath the cold, silvery light of a Full Moon, hanging low and majestic in the cloudless sky.
Lilith stopped, breathless. She hadn't seen the outside world in years.
The air was thin and icy—but vast. She drew a deep breath, feeling the pure, unfiltered air fill her lungs—not the suffocating incense and aether fumes of the chamber. That air was life, free of judgment.
The landscape sprawled before her, draped in a cloak of shadow and light, with silver streams winding in the distance. It was a calm, indifferent beauty—the kind that demanded nothing in return. There were no runes, no rituals, no pressure of Shadow or Light. There were only trees, rocks, and the endless sky.
For one brief and precious moment, Lilith forgot the Black Mark on her arm, the blood on her hands, and the demon's voice. She was just an eighteen-year-old girl staring at the Moon. A strange, almost forgotten feeling washed over her: hope. Hope, as fleeting and fragile as mountain dew, that maybe—just maybe—the world could be greater than her burden.
She reached out her hand, as if she could touch the silver light.
And then, the moment was gone. Reality took hold with her first step, forcing her down the steep slope. Freedom was beautiful, yes—but the journey was long. And she had to run.