There is a trail of blood from the broken tree to the door. Men in grey robes cower in the hallway as the woman stands drenched in blood. Her eyes light up like a bolt of lightning and her fingers dig deep in the door posts as she catches her breath. Her blood-soaked clothes cling tight to her body, her hair is matted down to the sides of her face.
Ada’s skin pulls tight on her arms and a chill runs down her spine. Goosebumps dance across her flesh, the voices cry out to her from deep inside. Vengeance. Vengeance! Her glowing eyes twitch with the shrill shouting within. Pulses of light leap off of her in the dark hallway to the floor as she steps into the hallway.
One of the grey cloaks staggers back holding a tray filled with rotted food. His hood falls off his face and his stunned brown eyes connect with hers. He is pale and looks as if he has swallowed a wasp. His jaw hangs open in horror at the sight of Ada.
She sees something in his eyes. It is a flicker of something she once knew. She hears his voice whispering in her ear. “You’re going to love this.” He says and Ada’s nose fills with the scent of salt, his sweat. He presses up against her and she feels as if she will vomit. Then Ada realizes it is not her memory, it is one of the girls from the tree, and her blood boils hot in her veins. She tastes bile and blood. She screams and reaches out a hand to him.
His stumble turns into a complete fall, and he crashes hard to the cobblestone floor. Ada steps between his legs and reaches down her eyes peering into his dark soul. She can see every despicable thing the man has done leeching the innocent light from the girls. She hears the screams; they beg him to stop. She feels their tears on her cheeks.
Ada growls. A sound escapes her throat so feral that the other men in the hall stagger back as well. A man who had pulled his dagger scrapes the wall with it as he tosses his arm to the side to catch himself.
Ada lays her hand on the brown-eyed man’s face. She can feel the victims inside him. He ate the fruit of their despair. He tortured them in the dark room by the tree and ate the fruit that it bore. A piece of them is inside him. A piece of them is inside her too. The foul hateful light inside her turns red hot. The light inside him responds. The two are linked.
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Ada snarls at the man and he stammers. Then she goes to work. The light of his victims runs through every vein and capillary. Through every muscle and every bone. It is in his mind, it is in his teeth, tongue, and groin. All of it linked to the light inside her.
Ada tilts her head at the realization. He is unequivocally at her disposal. She lifts him from the ground with supernatural strength and stands him there between her and his companions in the hall. Her glowing white eyes turn from him and focus on the others still trying to regain their composure. She is a bloody brutal sight.
Then she calls on the light inside the man. She calls on the victims of the brutalized women. It is like an agreement, like an alliance. The light inside her and the light inside him touch with a bond much stronger than she had ever felt from the plants before. She is alive, a storm rages through her, and a hurricane pounds at the gates of her soul.
She glares from one grey cloak to another collecting the memories of the girls as she makes eye contact. Her hair resists the soak of blood and stands out on end from her head. Bolts of light streak out from her legs and hips and strike the cobbles on the floor with loud cracks. Hate billows out from her like fog banks, causing her audience to shudder. All of this in just seconds. Her movements from the door to holding the man in the air just a few blinks.
She sucks in a deep breath and screams; his fingers bend backward and snap one by one. His legs break, white bone jutting from his thigh muscles and blood spraying across her already-soaked dress. He screams with her as his ribs crack and his cheekbones contort in his face.
The sounds of the bones breaking remind her of a falling tree. She finishes her work of crumbling his bones to gravel inside him carefully, leaving his organs intact. Then drops the groaning puddle of a man at her feet.
The man with the drawn dagger sobs and the dagger clangs to the floor. Blood drips from Ada’s jaw as she walks toward him panting, lusting to show him a minutia of the pain that roars inside her. A walking nightmare strolls toward him, drooling blood. The innocent Ada is gone. All that is left is bloodlust and hate.