The attack was over in seconds, her mind barely able to process what had happened. She could feel it running down on her torso, wetness, something not supposed to be there.

"Is this my own blood?" She asked to the absolute void. She was the last standing woman, her voice went unheard.

She tried, struggled even, to remember the faces of all those she had seen die. Of those she, with her own hands, had brought death to. A necessary act, the only means to survival, yet a cruel act that would leave scares for lives to come. The feeling would follow her forever, yet none, not a single person, came to mind. It was all a blur, a nightmarish chimera created out of the disjointed memories of her victims. A reminder that she had done what she ever swore not to. That she had killed innocent people. And that face composed of multiple faces, staring inexpressibly at her, was making sure that she remembered. Hundreds of eyes focused on her, glaring into her soul, seeking for a penitence that she was not feeling.

Right, the blood, she somehow came back to reality. Her hand dipped into the liquid, and like a child playing in a pond, started palpating the area around. It felt fresh, or, more worrisome even, still dripping from somewhere. Her hands followed the stream, up towards her hips. It was not a waterfall, yet she could hear the drops still hitting the soil, merging into the pool of blood that rested below her feet.

Her hand kept moving, still searching for the origin, and it found it. Yes, her hand hit something, and that something swung on her hips. A gear on her mind clicked to place, she clutched and held her head between her hands. A scream, an agonizing plead, exited her mouth.

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She was afraid to look. She dreaded the reliazation that had just sunk in. Why! Why had she to remember? It came as a rush, a myriad of images, sounds, and smells answering a call she did not give. All of it accumulated on her mind, and brought panic with it.

Because she knew, that what hang in her waist, was none other than the Chief's head.

The blood was not hers.

Just leave it to us. Yes, we will make it go away. Leave it to us. We can help you.

"But you! You-"

We just saved you. We will save you again. You are safe. Let us help you. The voices overlapped into an inexplicably understandable cacophony of voices. Remember, you were about to die, you asked us for help, and now you live.

Blurry scenes flashed before her eyes. Images of her fighting with her nails, of her enemies being slashed to death. She saw the panic on their eyes, the fear she infuzed with just her presence. She could feel her power, her rightful place in the pyramid of power.

"Ha, haha, ha" Her breath calmed down, merging into a sinister laughter that made even her hairs stand on end. "Yes, I want that. I am powerful."

If you let us, your current power will falter in comparison to what we have planned for you. Let us make sou stronger. Let us become you.

"Yes"

Energy, darkness made solid, enveloped her body as soon as she said the word. Colder than anything she had felt before, it pierced at her skin, taking away her impurities and virtues alike. It felt like home. If felt just right. She needed a new start. She wanted, nay, she needed power. She—

"And now, now we are born. We will make her wish true."