Metal against metal, monsters screeching, human screams— a symphony to my ears. The scent of blood, sweat, and fear fills my senses, igniting a hunger that burns deeper with every passing moment.

Wait. I shouldn’t be craving this.

I can taste every death on my tongue, savoring it like the finest wine. The cold air bites at my skin, but I welcome it, letting it numb the edges of my mind. I cannot lose control now—not when I’ve come this far.

War is all around me, the fields drenched in blood for miles. I thought they would fall sooner, but here they are, still struggling, their legs trembling beneath them as they fight Nyxaroth. Oh Nyxaroth, my sweet pet. She thinks she will be my queen, but little does she know I have my eyes set on someone far greater.

My gaze shifts to the battle before me: two pathetic figures trying to defeat her—a man wielding a sword of white flame, and the girl with the blood-red hair.

Is… is that me? No, I’m not a killer. I would never do that…

I had such high hopes for her. She was meant to be my fiercest warrior, my weapon of destruction. But it seems I was wrong. She hesitates, she’s weak, unlike the monster I had planned to shape her into.

I’m the monster…

I look past the chaos to the lake. No longer is it the shimmering white mirror of peace, only blood remains in its waters—the blood of my enemies. My chest tightens with a longing I cannot satiate. I could destroy everything here, wipe them all out with a thought, but for now, I will let them suffer. My warriors are doing their job well, leaving no one standing in their wake.

One last task. One last soul to drain. And I will be a god.

Wake up Selene, I’m ready for you. Wake up. Be a good puppet and wake up!

No…

The ground shifts beneath me. The bloodstained battlefield darkens, and the shadows close in around me, creeping into every corner of my vision. Something cold and heavy presses against my chest. I feel her, no, it, starting to slip away. I can’t let that happen. I can’t.

I don’t want to hear that voice again. I don’t want to…

"WAKE UP, SELENE!"

The command isn’t soft anymore. It’s a roaring order, shaking me to my core. I fight against the darkness pulling me under, but it’s like fighting a tide. It’s futile.

Then, suddenly, a scream.

My eyes snap open, and I gasp for air. The harsh, desperate sound of my name cuts through the fog of my dream. “Selene! Wake up!” My head snaps toward the voice, and I find Thorn crouching beside me, his face pale with panic. His hands are gripping my shoulders, shaking me. I can feel the frantic pulse of his breath on my skin. I blink rapidly, disoriented, as though I’m waking from a nightmare that is somehow still clinging to me. “Selene, please!” Thorn’s voice cracks as he shakes me again, his eyes wild with fear. My hand instinctively rises to my chest, as if trying to steady myself against the weight of what I’d just felt, what I’d just heard. “I, I heard…” My voice trembles, but I can’t quite piece together the fragments of my dream. “Shh, it’s okay,” Thorn says quickly, his grip tightening. “You were having a bad dream. You’re safe. You’re here with me. Do you hear me?” But as he says this, I can’t shake the feeling that something… someone… is still there, watching. The words of the voice echo in my head: "Be a good puppet." I start to sob, it’s become second nature to me now. Thorn pulls me against his chest, holding me as my cries become silent, but my body is still trembling. I pull back my head to look him in the eyes, confirming that this is real. “I’m here,” Thorn says, “I’m here.” He takes my face in his hands and begins to wipe the tears from my face. I glance behind him and notice Nicholas, Cedric, and Theo are standing behind him, panting. Their faces are as pale as death and they are all gripping their chests. I then notice that Thorn is panting as well. I turn my head to look out of the curtains, but there is nothing but a dark fog surrounding all of us. I’m doing this. What have I done? I look back to Thorn, his grip now on my shoulders, and ask, “What did I do?” He looks back at the men behind him, and says, “You were having a nightmare, and your power lashed out.” He turns his gaze back to mine, “You nearly killed us, Selene.” He says solemnly. My heart stops. A memory from my dream came to my mind. I’m the monster. Maybe this is why I created my own reality. I still have a million questions on how I could even do such a thing, but that isn’t my highest priority. Maybe my parents were right, I deserve to die. A power like this is something no one should have. I don’t remember my powers from before today, but I know enough to assume that I only cause destruction. “I can’t make it stop, Thorn,” I say as the wall of darkness still encases us. “You can, Selene,” Thorn starts, his grip on my shoulders tightening, “Think of your mother. Imagine that one special memory you have of her.” “How can I have that as my grounding method now that I’ve found out she was going to have me killed!” As I finish my sentence, a warm surge of energy flows through me and the darkness around us grows. Clearly my anger ignites my powers. “Close your eyes,” Thorn says. I hesitate, not wanting to risk seeing images from my dream, but I obey. As soon as I do, a sense of familiarity crashes over me. I imagine myself running along the shore of a clear blue ocean. My hair flowing freely in the wind and my body feeling stronger than ever. I look to my right, and Thorn is running alongside me. The sun is beaming down on us, and I feel the rays sinking into my skin. I lift my head up and see a bright, clear sky. Only grassy fields to our right, no darkness, no monsters. My chest burns with joy and love as I look at Thorn. I blink, and am once again in the room with Thorn and the others. My breath has steadied, and my heart beat has calmed. “Was that real?” I ask Thorn. He smiles softly, “Yes, that was real.” I let my body collapse against his as I curse myself for not being able to remember the man in front of me. Will I ever know who I used to be? I look around us, and there is no darkness remaining around us. The sky is still dark outside, but at least the darkness around us is not my doing. “I had a dream, Thorn.” I say as I lift my head to look at him once again. Thorn turns around and nods at his men, and they leave. “It felt almost like a memory, but not my own.” I start, Thorn looking at me intently. “I was doing and… enjoying horrible, horrible things.” I will myself to take a deep breath before resuming, “There was death and destruction all around me, but at one point, I saw myself, and you, fighting side by side. It was a surreal, out of body experience.” Thorn just continues to stare at me, a glimpse of fear crossing his face. “In my dream, I felt some sort of presence thinking about me and how I would be its fiercest warrior. It’s like my mind was being controlled.” I shake my head as if to dispel the thought. “How could I remember my birth mother and the book she gave me, that you now have?” Thorn’s brows furrow, seeming startled by the change of topic. “I believe it’s because you let yourself have one singular memory to try and keep yourself grounded. You never planned on losing yourself to your alternate reality.” A somber look consumes his eyes as he finishes his sentence. I suddenly realized that it wasn’t just my life that was affected by my choice. Everyone around me had known me, seemed to have loved me. “Was there a specific event that triggered me into creating a new life?” I ask. “Yes,” He starts, “But to tell you that now would risk unveiling too much of your memory too fast.” I nod in silent agreement. I want everything back now, but with the importance he inflicts on not getting back at once, I accept his words. “When we finally managed to creep into your mind, we knew we had to be harsh. We needed to trigger you, and the book was the final piece that brought it together.” He responds regretfully. “What was the blood on my hands from?” I ask, Thorn looks down at our hands and responds, “We have to work our way up to that one, Selene.” He says with a small, dark smirk on his face. I can tell there’s nothing fun about what caused this, but he is rather trying to keep me calm and unassuming. I have so many more questions to ask, but I’m tired of being denied answers. Thorn’s eyes grow distant as he starts to speak, and I can feel the shift in the air around us. His voice is almost a whisper, but each word carries the weight of years, of a life I can’t fully comprehend. "When I was ten," he begins, his voice tight, like the words are a struggle to say, "my father started training me. In all the ways a child should never have to learn, how to fight, how to kill, how to harness my powers." I want to speak, to ask what kind of life that must’ve been, but my throat tightens, and the words refuse to come out. A deep ache settles in my chest as I realize he was shaped by violence, molded by cruelty. “I was born with power far stronger than anyone in my family,” he continues, eyes drifting to the floor, as though the memories are etched into the very fabric of his being. “And when I turned fifteen, they thought I was ready. Ready for my first task.” He spits the word like it’s poison. “A guardian. They assigned me to you.” My breath catches at the mention of me, of that role. The role he played, and has continued to play in my life. “They thought you were dangerous,” Thorn murmurs, almost as if the words themselves weigh him down. “Your parents," He pauses, his jaw tightening. "They were afraid of you. Of what you could become.” I don’t want to hear it, but it’s impossible to stop him now. My parents… they wanted to sell me. It’s something he mentioned earlier, but the idea that they feared me enough to want me gone, it’s something I try not to think about. But hearing Thorn say it now, hearing him own it, I feel my stomach twist. I don’t know whether to scream, to run, or to collapse into a puddle of disbelief. “They made a deal,” he says quietly, as if every word is heavy with regret. “To sell you. To someone who could... control you, I suppose.” He shakes his head, his hands flexing in fists at his sides. “But that person was no ordinary buyer.” The way his voice falters, the way he says "no ordinary buyer," makes my heart skip a beat. My pulse quickens, and my power stirs beneath my skin, a dark, instinctual tremor of energy that I don’t quite understand but know too well. “Her name was Nyxorath,” Thorn says, his voice barely above a whisper. The name is like ice in my veins, a jagged shard of fear lodged deep within my chest. “She’s an Archmage. A soul-eater. She feeds off dark magic. Magic that’s been lost to the world for centuries. Forbidden power.” The moment the name slips from his lips, it feels like the world shifts. My heart stops in my chest, my body frozen in place, my mind scrambling to catch up. Nyxorath. I know that name. I feel it in the marrow of my bones, like a cold wind blowing through my very soul. It’s familiar, and I know without a doubt that this is the woman from my dream. From the whispers in my nightmare last night. The words sting like a slap to the face. More than just from my dream. Something deep inside me remembers her. Thorn watches me closely, like he’s waiting for me to crumble, and I almost do. The ground beneath me feels unstable, like I’m about to fall into a pit that’s been dug just for me. I don’t know how to react, how to make sense of what he’s just said. “Nyxorath…” I repeat her name under my breath, the syllables thick and heavy on my tongue. Something primal stirs in me, my power aching to break free, to respond to the threat she represents. The fear I feel for this woman is not just learned, it’s instinctual. I know her. “She still wants me, doesn’t she?” I look at Thorn, and for the first time, I see him, really see him, torn between guilt and a fierce determination. "She still wants me." Thorn steps closer, his hands reaching out as if to steady me, though I can’t say why. “She never stopped wanting you, Selene,” he says, his voice tight. “And she’s still looking for you. For what you are.” His hands hover near me, like he’s afraid to touch me, like the truth of it all is too much to bear. I can feel the tears rising again, but I refuse to let them fall. Not here, not now. My power pulses beneath my skin, thrumming with the echoes of a nightmare I don’t fully understand. The same nightmare where I was the one, I was the one, doing the killing, reveling in the destruction. Although it wasn’t Nyxorath’s eyes I was seeing through. She was on the battlefield. A shiver runs down my spine. What have I become? Thorn doesn’t let go of me. Instead, he steps forward, his voice gentle but firm, his hand now on my shoulder, his touch grounding me in the chaos that is swirling in my mind. “You weren’t meant to remember this all at once, Selene,” he says, his eyes soft, but there’s something there, something raw. “But I had to tell you. For your own sake.” I feel his hand, warm and steady on my skin, and for the first time since my memories shattered, I allow myself to lean into him. My chest rises and falls, quick and erratic, but his presence, the weight of his touch, calms me just enough to breathe again. “I don’t know how to fight this,” I whisper, my voice breaking, the words tasting bitter in my mouth. “I don’t know how to stop it.” “You don’t have to fight it alone,” Thorn says softly. “Not anymore.” I meet his eyes, and for the first time, something inside me cracks open. It’s not just about what I can’t remember, about the pieces of my past that I can’t reach. It’s about what I’m learning right now, in this moment, standing here with him. The man who killed my parents. The man who protected me anyway. The pain in his eyes is mirrored in mine. But it’s more than that, it’s an understanding, a bond that we share now, even in the brokenness. I want to scream. I want to rage. But all I can do is fall into his arms, the last shred of my resistance breaking apart. Thorn wraps me in his embrace, holding me tightly, and for the first time since yesterday, I don’t feel quite so lost. Just as I begin to sink into the weight of everything Thorn has shared, something else catches my eye, the dark, red, swirling lines etched into the skin of his neck, the tattoo I noticed on the beach. It seems like such a small thing compared to everything else we’ve discussed, yet now, with everything else on the table, it feels important, more important than I realized. “What about that?” I ask, my fingers rising of their own accord to trace the markings on his skin. My touch is hesitant at first, feeling the sharpness of the lines, the cold burn of the ink. Thorn’s body stiffens at my touch, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he exhales slowly, like he’s bracing himself. “It's the mark of the Damned,” he says, his voice low and heavy, the words laced with a deep, painful history. “It’s what happens when you're branded as unworthy, marked by those who believe you’ll never be forgiven.” I frown, my fingers lingering on the swirling patterns, as if trying to absorb the meaning of it all. “The day you turned 16,” Thorn continues, his eyes darkening as he remembers the moment, “you had an outburst, a power surge that killed three of your family’s servants. It was my job to keep you under control. But I failed.” His eyes fall to the floor, guilt flooding his expression. “They blamed me. And so they marked me.” My heart twists as I trace the inked symbols, realizing they’re not just tattoos, they’re a part of his punishment, a permanent reminder of his failure. “They think anyone who carries this mark,” Thorn says, “will be damned to a fate worse than death when they die. They branded me as one of them. A failure. But I didn’t care. I had already sworn an oath to protect you, no matter the cost.” He pauses, his voice catching in his throat. “That’s why I killed your parents, Selene. I couldn’t let them sell you to her. Not to Nyxorath.” I pull my hand away from his tattoo, a mix of emotions swirling within me. His tattoo, the symbol of his own damnation, now feels like something I share with him. Not just in guilt, but in his fate. I can see it now. The mark that defines him, that he carries as a reminder of his decisions, is a part of his loyalty to me. Thorn stands there, quiet, as though waiting for me to say something. But I don't know what to say. How do I respond to the truth of his past, my past, the weight of his sacrifice and the truth about my parents? The thought of Nyxorath consumes my mind, but I tuck it away for another time. I savor this one sliver of my memory he has given me. And I feel a pang of guilt for the life he sacrificed for me. I find his hand with my own, lacing my fingers with his, and we sit in silence, staring out of the curtains towards the dark sky.

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