"Wow. That's... actually incredible," Jasmia breathed. I could see the matte-black reflection of my own blades dancing in her eyes.
Lori didn't move. He stayed back, his posture stiff, scanning the swords like they were a live grenade. "Can you actually control them, Kia? Like, for real? I don't need a repeat of what happened at the market."
"Yes," I said. And for the first time, I wasn't lying to myself. The blades didn't feel like tools or heavy weights anymore, they felt like lungs. I could finally breathe.
I wandered away from where they were sparring, heading toward the row of trees I'd just leveled. Tiny, devilish black embers were still dancing on the wood. I reached out and touched one of the dark flames. It didn't burn. It just hummed against my skin, vibrating like a purring cat. It was mine.
Then, the woods went dead silent.
No birds. No wind. Just the heavy, rhythmic crunch of boots on dead leaves. I spun around, my wrists throbbing as the black veins surged down toward the hilts of my swords.
A tall figure stepped out of the shadows. He had a heavy tactical hood pulled up and a black mask, but his eyes were what got me—iridescent and sharp, staring at me from the dark of his cowl.
"Those blades," he mused. His voice was a deep, low hum that seemed to vibrate the very air. "I thought those were just fairy tales my mother told me. I didn't think the Oath actually existed."
I didn't bother answering. I dropped into a low stance, crossing the dual blades in front of my chest.
"Who are you?" I demanded.
He didn't say a word. He just lunged.
His speed was insane. He didn't even have a weapon; his fingernails just lengthened into jagged, metallic claws as he swung. I parried, and the sound of my steel hitting his skin sounded like two hammers slamming together. My blades—the ones that just erased half a forest—couldn't even leave a scratch on his arms.
He was like a ghost in motion—fluid, stable, and terrifyingly efficient. He slipped right past my guard, his claws grazing my cheek. I felt the warm, sharp sting of blood.
"Give it up," he commanded, his voice right in my ear. "Show me the source."
I was already gassing out. Every time I swung, he was already at the destination. He wasn't just fast; he was reading me like an open book.
"What... what do you want?" I gasped, my lungs starting to burn.
His eyes locked onto my wrists. "I see the leak now."
He caught my blades in a mid-air clash, using pure physical strength to shove me backward. I hit the dirt hard, the wind getting knocked out of me. Before I could even scramble up, he was over me, pinning me down with his weight.
I lashed out, but he caught both of my wrists in a grip that felt like a vice. A new kind of pain—cold and torturous—shot through my arms. It wasn't the "disaster" in my blood; it felt like he was reaching into my veins and manually shoving the power back into my heart.
The black markings on my skin started to shrink, forced back by his touch.
He pulled back his hood, revealing a mess of long, white-gray hair and eyes the color of a winter storm. He was strikingly handsome, but the predatory edge to his smile made my skin crawl.
"Am I really that attractive?" he teased, his dimples flashing.
The "cute" mask didn't work. I hated him instantly. My eyes bled into bottomless voids of black, and my veins throbbed, trying to fight back against him.
"Not so fast," he hissed, squeezing my wrists even harder.
I cried out as our powers mingled—a violent, jarring friction that made my head spin. He leaned down, his cheek brushing mine. He used one hand to pin both of mine above my head, his other hand tilting my chin up. His breath was hot against my neck, smelling of rain and ozone.
"I'll be gentle," he whispered into my ear, his voice dropping to a husky growl. "I just need a taste."
He bared his fangs and sank them into my neck. I braced for the agony, but it was... quiet. A soft, draining warmth. He drank deeply, and as he did, my strength just evaporated. I lay there paralyzed, staring at the trees above as the world slowly turned gray.
The Stranger's POV
"TSUKIA!"
A roar echoed through the clearing. I pulled away, licking a stray drop of blood from my lip. It tasted like sweet and something ancient...
I stood up, leaving the girl weak on the grass. I looked at my own wrists. Under the skin, a black vein—exactly like hers—popped into existence. I tried to manifest the power more, but it sputtered out and died.
Complex, I thought. I can't just copy the form. I have to understand the source.
"Who the hell are you?" a guy screamed, skidding into the clearing with another girl right behind him.
I pulled my mask back up, my claws lengthening. "Someone who knows exactly what you're harboring."
The guy didn't wait for an explanation. He launched a massive wave of fire, but I didn't even move. I just raised a hand. "Absolute Undo."
The flames didn't hit a shield; they just ceased to exist. The heat vanished, the light died, and the guy was left standing there with an empty palm, his jaw dropping in shock.
Tsukia's POV
The weight finally lifted. Jasmia was at my side, her hands glowing with a bright, restorative light. The coldness in my limbs started to melt, and the puncture marks on my neck sealed shut.
"Thank you," I mouthed, forcing myself to stand up. I gripped my swords, my eyes locked on the man.
"Lori, stop!" I shouted. "You can't hit him! He's... he's reversing it!"
Lori ignored me, his rage totally blind. He swung again, and the man just dodged with fluid, mocking ease. Suddenly, the stranger stopped playing. He ignored Lori entirely and lunged back toward me.
"She's mine," he muttered, his voice dropping into a low growl.
I flinched as he cut off my escape, but he didn't strike. He leaned down, his lips brushing my ear one last time. He whispered a single sentence, "A vision about the winged woman, huh?"
It made my blood turn to ice.
Lori stepped between us, his fists shaking. "What did you do to her?"
The man raised his hands in a mock truce. He pulled off his mask completely, revealing his sharp, aristocratic features and that messy white hair.
"The name is Nightshade Ash," he said, bowing with a flourish that felt like an insult. "My primary potential is Absolute Undo. My second... well, your friend just provided the fuel for it."
He looked at Lori, then Jasmia, then back to me. "Let me join you."
"Are you insane?" Jasmia barked. "You just attacked her!"
"I tested her," Nightshade corrected. "And you're definitely going to need me for what's coming."
Lori looked at me, his face a mess of confusion and protective fury. "Tsukia? Why would we ever let this creep in the door?"
I looked at Nightshade. He was arrogant, dangerous, and he'd just taken my blood without asking. I hated him. But I also knew we were completely outmatched.
"Because," I whispered, my voice trembling, "he knows what the winged woman is. He knows why I can't remember."
I looked at Nightshade. This wasn't friendship. It was a deal with the devil.
"Fine," I said, my voice cold. "But if you touch me again, I'll find a way to kill you before you can undo it."
Nightshade's smirk only grew. "I look forward to the attempt, Tsukia~"