Seravenn daytime...

  The day had been a procession of voices.

  Advisors, ministers, diplomats… all bowed, all said Your Majesty, but there was no reverence in their eyes.

  Only hollow gratitude —or worse, devotion for the magical girls.

  For them.

  For the daughters the people chose to worship while I remain confined in this palace they dare to call a throne.

  I signed decrees, sealed documents, smiled just enough so that no one would notice the emptiness.

  Duty is a mask—and I have worn it all my life.

  When night fell, silence was a mercy.

  I removed the crown and placed it on the vanity. The sound of metal against wood was heavier than I expected.

  I brushed my hair before the mirror, every movement measured, perfect, as if I could comb the frustration out of myself.

  The reflection stared back at me: motionless, lifeless skin, eyes without fire.

  I had waited to feel it—the spark, the heat that the reports had promised.

  Nothing.

  Only a body aging beneath the weight of an unfulfilled miracle.

  And then, the spasm.

  Pain tore through me like lightning.

  First my neck, then my spine, until my hands began to shake.

  The brush slipped from my fingers. I tried to breathe, but the air turned liquid.

  The veins on my arms ignited with a green glow, crawling upward like sickly vines.

  I watched as they reached my face.

  The mirror warped.

  My features sank into themselves, melting like wax under the sun.

  I tried to scream—but no sound came.

  Only the sight of my own skin liquefying before my eyes.

  And then… silence.

  Black.

  Nothing.

  I woke on the floor.

  I don’t know how long had passed, but the air was utterly still.

  My body… untouched.

  I touched my face: smooth, perfect.

  The mirror had returned to its shape, reflecting a version of me that looked younger, firmer, unblemished.

  But something pulsed beneath the surface—a vibration, a hum running through my veins.

  I no longer felt my body.

  I felt the world.

  I rose, trembling. When I reached toward the vanity, a burst of energy shot from my hand.

  The mirror shattered into a thousand fragments, and the crown crashed to the floor, humming.

  The echo of that surge coursed through me like an intoxicating shock.

  Magic.

  Real, tangible magic.

  It filled me. Completed me.

  I laughed.

  I couldn’t help it. A low, disbelieving laugh that grew, blooming into something wild and glorious.

  Light coiled around my fingers—threads of green energy twisting like obedient serpents.

  And then I felt it.

  The emotion that had waited in silence all these years.

  Not love.

  Not pride.

  Envy.

  Envy burned beneath my skin like cold fire.

  That old, shameful emotion embraced me like a mother.

  I had fed it for years—watching my magical daughters, craving to feel what they felt, to be what they were.

  Now envy returned the favor.

  The air itself began to change.

  The marble under my feet shimmered, sketching a circle of emerald light.

  My gown unraveled, ribbons of silk tearing free to float around me like petals torn by the wind.

  Each thread became liquid energy, weaving itself anew upon my skin—forming a translucent corset of jade and gold that pulsed with my heartbeat.

  The sleeves fragmented into layers of floating crystals, glimmering like living scales.

  From my back, filaments of light unfurled, curving downward to form a weightless cape that breathed like smoke, radiant and alive.

  My legs were wrapped in short golden leaves that fluttered with every breath.

  Bracelets of molten light coiled around my wrists, and at my throat, a liquid-gold necklace rose and traced up my cheeks, framing my eyes in a subtle glow.

  My hair—once pale—darkened, thickening into heavy waves that shimmered green under the candlelight.

  The fallen crown lifted itself, merging with my hair, reshaping into a floating halo of interlocking golden rings.

  The veins beneath my skin no longer looked human: they glowed like emerald roots threaded with light, breathing softly beneath the flesh.

  And my eyes… reflected everything. Deep green with flecks of amber, as if countless souls shimmered behind them, whispering my name.

  The air vibrated around me.

  With each exhale, waves of energy rippled outward like a melody too vast for human ears.

  Even my shadow no longer followed—it bowed.

  Magic didn’t hurt.

  It sang.

  And in that song, I understood what I had become.

  I was not one among them.

  I was all of them.

  The mirror of every emotion, the keeper of every light ever stolen from me.

  I, Seraphina of Seravenn, was no longer merely a queen.

  I was Envy itself.

  And now, at last—

  I was perfect.

  The air smelled of dust and perfume—of cracked stone and restrained electricity.

  The palace—my golden cage—seemed to be holding its breath.

  I stepped among the shards of the mirror and felt the marble groan beneath my feet, reshaping itself to match my pulse. Every fragment reflected a different face, all mine, all distorted, all beautiful.

  I lifted a hand. The energy swirled, obedient, waiting.

  A ripple tore through the air, and the nearest wall fractured with a low, muffled roar. Plaster fell like ashes.

  “So easy,” I whispered, fascinated. “So... perfect.”

  Power was a second body inside mine—an ancient animal awakening beneath my skin.

  Each breath fed it; each exhale shaped it.

  It didn’t hurt. It didn’t weigh.

  It simply was.

  I closed my eyes.

  And then I felt them.

  Voices that weren’t voices.

  Magical echoes pulsing like distant hearts.

  First—one burning bright: Irhena. Her anger tasted like molten iron.

  Then Reia, her hope blinding, clean, almost stinging at my eyes.

  Further away, a thread of sadness—Caelyn’s sorrow, humid and heavy.

  And the tremor of fear, cold and trembling, from Nysha.

  Each one had its own flavor, its own texture, its own color.

  The air turned into a symphony only I could hear.

  My fingers trembled, halfway between pleasure and revelation.

  So this was what they felt.

  This was what made them believe they could look down on me.

  I smiled.

  Then something shifted.

  A sting in my stomach—small at first.

  Then a hollow that grew, spreading to my chest, my throat, my teeth.

  A sweet warmth that was not hunger.

  It was something else.

  The air changed scent.

  I could almost taste it—thick, sweet, laced with metal.

  Saliva filled my mouth.

  My breath turned uneven; my tongue burned.

  The emptiness inside me began to demand, to feed.

  I touched my neck. My pulse drummed like a living thing.

  And then I felt it: a cold line of drool sliding down my chin.

  I froze, horrified and entranced at once.

  “Hunger?” I murmured. “No… power.”

  It couldn’t be hunger. Not me.

  But my body didn’t lie—every cell screamed that something out there burned with the exact flavor I craved.

  I blinked, and the feeling was gone.

  Only the echo remained, like a memory buried in my bones.

  I wiped my face, inhaled deeply, convincing myself it had been a mirage.

  The power followed me—not as a burden, but as a melody humming under my skin.

  Outside, the wind struck the palace windows, and for a heartbeat I swore I heard a voice in the air, whispering my name.

  I couldn’t stay inside.

  I needed to feel everything.

  I wrapped myself in a cloak and crossed the corridor toward the inner garden.

  The torches lit themselves as I passed.

  When I opened the doors to the forest, the night greeted me with its warm breath.

  The moonlight lay on the leaves like tarnished silver.

  I walked between the trees, and every branch I brushed bloomed instantly—then withered to dust.

  The cycle of life, in seconds. Exquisite.

  I approached a small lake.

  The water shimmered with green light.

  When I touched its surface, my reflection flickered and split.

  There was no shadow—only a silhouette of energy dancing beneath the water.

  And then I felt them again.

  Presences.

  Magical pulses, not far away.

  A group of girls. Training, perhaps. Or patrolling.

  The air filled with their scent—their distinct magical signatures, each alive and pure.

  Envy rose inside me like perfume, slow and warm.

  They’re so close.

  My breath quickened.

  I took a single step forward.

  The earth trembled softly beneath my foot.

  The forest seemed to bow.

  A quiet laugh escaped me—gentle, delighted.

  I won’t touch them… not yet.

  I raised my eyes to the sky.

  No stars, no movement—yet I felt watched.

  The branches curled like hands around me.

  The power inside me coiled tighter, restless, expectant.

  Every breath, every glance, every atom… belonged to me.

  The forest was still.

  The air, heavy with magic, carried that sweet, metallic scent only newborn power leaves behind.

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  And then I felt it —the rupture.

  A current slicing the sky like a burning thread.

  Lumina Umbrae.

  They landed not far from me. Four distinct pulses, recognizable even from miles away.

  Reia —hope incarnate, so pure it almost hurt to hear her breathe.

  Caelyn —a thread of tempered sorrow, sounding like a broken violin.

  Nysha —the fragile echo of fear that never truly dies.

  And Virelle —contained rage, tamed only by pride.

  I could hear them speaking among the trees, unaware of me.

  Their voices trembled ever so slightly, sensitive to the electric hum that still filled the air.

  —Do you feel that? —Reia first, always the calmest.

  —Yes, —Caelyn answered— it’s like the air itself… is breathing.

  —It’s not just air, —Virelle murmured, voice rough as flame— it’s magic. Alive magic.

  —Too alive, —Nysha whispered, hugging herself— like it’s watching us.

  I smiled.

  I didn’t blame them for feeling it.

  They were only sensing me.

  A shiver ran down my spine —soft, delicious.

  I wanted to taste it.

  Not out of cruelty, nor hunger… but curiosity.

  How would it feel to feed on the power they waste so carelessly?

  I closed my eyes.

  And reached out.

  The energy responded instantly.

  Fine threads of light—like strands of hair—unraveled from my fingers, spreading toward them, invisible beneath the veil of night.

  When they touched, I felt it: the pulse of their warmth.

  It was exquisite.

  A sigh escaped me, quiet and involuntary.

  I only took a little—barely a drop.

  And yet… I felt it.

  Their magic sliding into me like thick wine, warm and intoxicating, filling my lungs, my tongue, my bones.

  From afar came their reactions.

  —What—what’s happening? —Nysha gasped.

  —I don’t know, —Reia’s voice wavered— it’s like something’s… draining us.

  Caelyn fell to her knees, her blue aura flickering.

  Virelle growled, stretching her hand—her fire ignited, but trembled like a dying flame.

  Reia tried to raise her light to lift them, but it faltered, scattering like smoke.

  I… laughed silently.

  The pleasure was soft, round.

  Their power entered me in waves of euphoria that bordered on the erotic.

  It was like kissing each of their souls.

  And knowing none of them could stop me.

  A single thought ended the flow.

  The sensation vanished, leaving me full and trembling.

  When I opened my eyes, they were all standing again, breathless, confused.

  They hadn’t seen me yet.

  I chose not to hide any longer.

  The air folded around me as my emerald light flared, illuminating the woods.

  All four turned at once.

  The silence that followed was sharp as glass.

  Reia stepped forward, her voice steady though her fear betrayed her:

  —Your Majesty… what happened to you?

  I walked toward them, calm, letting the ground shimmer beneath my feet.

  Each word left my lips like a song.

  —Nothing, my dears. Perhaps… my awakening simply came late.

  Reia’s light flickered as if testing me.

  —What I felt… —she said slowly— was envy.

  —Envy? —I smiled faintly— And what could a queen possibly envy?

  Her answer died in her throat.

  I stepped closer, closing the space between us until the tension felt intimate, suffocating.

  —Everything that shines awakens a bit of envy, don’t you think, my sweet Reia?

  Her expression changed—not fear, but recognition.

  Behind her, Virelle clenched her fists, her flame eager to return. Caelyn caught her arm. Nysha barely breathed.

  I raised a hand, soft, almost comforting.

  —It’s late. You may go. What you felt was only… my rebirth.

  They looked at each other.

  Reia nodded first, visibly shaken, and wrapped the others in her light.

  Her glow expanded, and together they began to rise, their bodies lifted by her magic.

  I watched as they drifted away through the trees, their glow fading until it became distant points of color.

  The forest fell silent again.

  The air still pulsed with the remnants of their magic—now mine.

  I touched my lips.

  They tasted of hope, sorrow, fear… and rage.

  A perfect blend.

  I smiled.

  —Now I know what their souls taste like.

  The air still smelled of them—

  of hope, sorrow, fear, and rage.

  Their magic lingered inside me, saturating my veins like an impossible perfume.

  And then I felt it.

  My body... lighter.

  The ground, distant.

  My feet lifted from the marble floor without command.

  The wind obeyed, soft, adoring.

  I floated.

  No—

  I flew.

  A flicker of Reia, her gift, her purity, trembled within me, shaping wings that did not exist.

  I laughed.

  The sound was foreign, strange, almost frightening.

  And amid that euphoria, I remembered a trivial document—

  the order I had signed three days ago to dismantle a hidden Eiswacht cell on the outskirts.

  A small blemish to be erased quietly.

  I could have sent soldiers.

  But now, why bother?

  Magic coursed through me like a living current.

  And I was hungry.

  I rose above the city.

  The northern woods spread below like a sea of shadows.

  I could feel them—

  men hiding among the moss and damp earth.

  Barely a handful, yet their presence burned in my mind like glowing embers.

  I descended without sound.

  Branches bent at my passing.

  The soil curved beneath my feet.

  One of them saw me first.

  His voice broke the silence, trembling:

  —“Who—?”

  He never finished.

  I merely raised my hand.

  And the world stopped.

  His breath… his magic… his life began to pour toward me,

  thin, invisible threads crossing the air.

  No screams. No blood.

  Only the wet sound of something fading.

  The power hit me all at once.

  My body arched, shuddering.

  Energy climbed my legs, my spine, my lips.

  It was heat, it was fire, it was pleasure.

  A pure, overwhelming pleasure that made me gasp.

  The taste of power filled my tongue—metallic, sweet, alive.

  I didn’t think.

  I only drank.

  One by one, the men folded, their bodies hollow, light as shells.

  Each collapse left me more awake, more real.

  And the more I took, the more I needed.

  When the last one fell, I stood alone in the clearing.

  The forest watched me, still and breathless.

  My hands trembled, my lips glistened.

  I inhaled.

  No guilt.

  No fear.

  Only hunger again.

  The soil shimmered faintly beneath the empty husks.

  Their memories buzzed inside me—names, orders, insignias, lives.

  All mine.

  I closed my eyes, and the air bent around me, obedient.

  My feet lifted from the ground once more.

  I floated above the clearing, my reflection fractured in a thousand drops of dew.

  And I smiled.

  At last, I understood.

  I was not just a queen.

  I was something older.

  Something vaster.

  A creature of desire and emptiness.

  The devourer of light.

  I felt no fear when I left the palace.

  I felt hunger.

  A thirst not of the body, but of the soul—something ancient stirring inside me, blazing with the wrath of a forgotten sun.

  The forests of Seravenn breathed thick and wet; every leaf shimmered with a pulse of magic. I walked barefoot among the roots, following the invisible echo of the enemy outposts marked by my own hand.

  I found the first one on a low ridge.

  Three soldiers slept, unaware of the miracle crawling toward them.

  When I looked at them, the energy unfolded before me like a black flower—and I took it.

  There were no screams. Only my breathing, and that moment—the instant when the world folded upon itself and another life blended into mine.

  It was intoxicating.

  The power rushed in, warm and poisonous, and for a heartbeat I thought I might overflow. It wasn’t pleasure; it was something deeper, a corrupted kind of relief.

  The sensation spread through my veins, and every nerve began to shine.

  I kept walking, not knowing if I was hunting or if the forest itself was feeding me.

  The surges came in uneven waves—some soft, others violent—and with each one, the pressure inside me grew, as if the magic were trying to break free.

  Then I heard it: a vibration in my bones, a metallic crack in the air.

  Two arcs of green light burst from my hands, curving until they closed into twin sickles.

  Perfect. Balanced.

  They didn’t need orders; they moved with me, each motion leaving a trail of light that sliced the air and dissolved fear.

  When the armed groups tried to respond, it was already too late.

  I cut through them like waves. The sickles didn’t kill outright—they drained, turning the glow of their souls into light that merged with mine.

  It was a clean, cruel fire.

  I could feel the warmth of every stolen life flowing into me, fusing, until the night itself seemed to breathe in rhythm with my lungs.

  And there I understood the true danger of what I had become: the ecstasy wasn’t in conquest—it was in consumption. Not in victory, but in emptiness.

  At some point, I stopped counting the bodies.

  Only the silence remained—thick, reverent.

  The glow of my sickles faded in slow pulses, the energy dissolving like a sigh.

  For the first time, I felt no fatigue.

  I felt whole.

  And that wholeness… hurt.

  I stood in the clearing, staring at the red sky.

  Magic drifted around me like perfume.

  I knew this was wrong—that no being should feel so alive after devouring the life of others.

  But the body does not lie, and mine trembled in satisfaction.

  The night watched in silence, and I, Seraphina of Seravenn, knew that I had crossed the border between human and divine.

  And that there would be no return.

  I returned to the palace just as the sky began to pale.

  The transformation dissolved with a sigh, and my body—my human body—felt small again, fragile, almost foreign.

  Every step through the empty halls sounded different. The walls smelled of incense, of safety, of everything I had once promised to protect.

  I climbed the stairs without knowing why, guided only by an impulse. My hands still trembled with the memory of power.

  The door was half open.

  Inside, the air was soft.

  Moonlight spilled across Altheara’s sleeping face—my daughter. Her golden hair spread like a quiet river over the sheets.

  She breathed in peace.

  And for a moment, all the noise in the world ceased to exist.

  Then I felt it.

  A sting. A tremor that didn’t come from my skin but from the magic itself.

  The hunger.

  That impossible hunger.

  It wasn’t desire. It wasn’t love. It was the same vibration that had guided me between bodies hours before—now turned toward her.

  Toward my child.

  I gasped, as if air could drown it out.

  I stepped back. Another step. My back hit the doorframe.

  —No… —I whispered, and even my voice didn’t recognize itself.

  I watched her chest rise and fall, calm and steady.

  And I knew then that what had given me power didn’t want to serve. It wanted to possess.

  I remembered the decrees I had signed, the speeches about hope, the promises of a fairer future.

  It was all for them. For my daughters. So they would never have to kneel before anyone.

  But now, with that tremor in my hands and the magic roaring beneath my skin, I no longer knew if I was protecting them…

  or preparing the world to devour them.

  I closed the door without a sound.

  And in the corridor, the moon watched me with a compassion that hurt.

  By the time I returned to my chambers, the sky was already gray.

  Dawn crept timidly through the curtains, and the scent of the forest still clung to my skin.

  I fumbled with my cloak; my fingers seemed clumsy, disconnected, as if they no longer belonged to me.

  The mirror stood silent, offering back a reflection I barely recognized.

  My eyes… still glimmered faintly green, almost imperceptible—but enough to remind me that none of it had been a dream.

  I tried to convince myself that I could control it.

  That this was part of the plan.

  That Seravenn needed a strong queen, not a fearful one.

  And yet, the echo lingered.

  The echo of hunger.

  The same tremor in my chest, now disguised as fatigue.

  I sat on the edge of the bed.

  I could feel the crown—unseen, but pressing deep into my temples.

  —Just a little while,—I murmured, barely a voice.

  Even queens can sleep a few hours more… can’t they?

  The thought made me smile.

  A weak, almost human smile.

  I lay down without undressing. The silk sheets felt cold against my burning skin.

  Morning light spilled through the window, painting the room in gold that stung my eyes.

  And just before I closed them, I admitted it:

  I wasn’t tired.

  Only… empty.