A loose sense of peace fell upon the church, a calmness that under the circumstances should never have existed, but seemed to all the same.

Lord Barothy II, the man whom for generations had presided over the lands, lay within his own blood upon the dirt and remain-swept floors of the old church off in the distance from the once premier Keep from which he held court and subjugated over the lands. A reign that had persisted in the wake of no shortage of tragedies and plights had befallen the northern lands of Fiore, what would be remembered will be either that of his reign; a period of strife for the people, of paranoid motivations and delusional accomplishments, or rather that of his death; of meekly escaping in the middle of the night only to fall within a church, afraid, alone, with only a collection of traitors, his daughter included, to watch his final moments.

An almost anticlimactic ending to what had happened as suddenly as anyone could have imagined, having the intensity that came with decades worth of rage and fury collectively unleashed in a singular moment.

She stood there, upon the front steps of the church, looking out in the distance as the last reddish hues still permeated within the night sky, it being only a short bit until the bloodied sun rises. She had been so preoccupied in watching it all, the outcome of the coup that she had waged, that Veronica Barothy did not realize the presence of the Demi-Human Vyra approaching until she were right beside her.

“How are you feeling?” Vyra asked, not sure whether the Countess were happy or disappointed with how everything had happened. How she described it, she should have been elated. If she were, her face hardly showed it.

“As pleased as anyone can be I would imagine,” the Countess said, almost a hint of pride in her voice. “This could have gone quite a different way. It just happened to be that things all fell right into place.”

Vyra looked at the woman, the true extent of the woman’s calculated nature now coming more to the surface. Thinking back, she couldn’t help but wonder what, if any of the woman she had met, had been earnest. “How long had you been planning this?”

Without looking at the Demi-Human, the Countess simply chuckled softly, “Heh, long enough I suppose. Make no mistake, what happened was necessary. He had always been a liability, but with Paradise Dawn’s growth in the north, it had become too risky to even risk him in that capacity.”

“But why now? Why involve me in all of this?”

Turning towards Vyra, the now-Lady Veronica Barothy looked upon her with a smile, holding her arms out and enwrapping the Demi-Human in a warm embrace. Pulling away, she leaned her lips towards the girl’s ear, whispering, “You brought me the missing piece.” She pulled back, stepping away similarly to once again create the distance that once separated them, “Without the Staff, those cultists would have never been willing to align against my father. Nor would they have had if they had gotten it before you.”

It left Vyra in an awkward situation, on one hand wanting to feel like she had contributed towards something bigger than herself, that Veronica, now an important person in the grand scheme of the world that she knew so little about, found her to be integral to it. But on the other struggling to wrap her head around what she had genuinely done. Vyra had provided the tool needed to force a civil war that even she did know would come of it. Worse even, she had been a key factor throughout it, even going as far as to landing the kill blow upon the existing lord.

“Cheer up,” Veronica said, an almost-fiendish smile upon the woman’s face as she glanced at the shaken Vyra, “What you helped accomplish, you’re going to be a hero in these parts.”

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“Hardly has that feeling right now,” Vyra mused. Veronica’s words were kind, and given her title, particularly in the wake of everything which had happened, it was impossible not to appreciate. But there was still an uneasy feeling through it all.

“Give it time.” Veronica turned and began towards the church, calling aloud to the Demi-Human whom had remained there on the steps, “I would invite you to the Keep to celebrate proper. I find it unlikely that will all available help it shall be up to deserving standard soon. That is, unless you wish to spend a bit more time in the North than first envisioned?”

It was a tempting offer certainly. While it may not have been the Hot Springs of Hosenka, to enjoy the new North like that of a royal, it was an experience that undoubtedly she would not get a chance to enjoy again. However though, it was impossible not to reflect on how she was feeling, the unease of what she had been involved with, whether directly or otherwise. Vyra’s role in all of this, in the fall of Lord Barothy and ascent of the Lady Barothy, she wrestled with whether or not she had done the right thing, with how Alisa would have felt towards it. The guilt of that ate at her, a part of her as much wanting to go back to the south as quickly as able to confess.

It did not matter either way.

Before Vyra were able to respond in either agreement or disapproval, the sound of cries, multiple of them, came echoing in the direction of the route previously marched towards the Barothy Keep.

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They came in small waves, the concise order that was marched once upon a time now having long since been gone in favor of pure panicked running. Some faster than others, some slower, slowed by injuries or other factors, those whom were willing to push others for their safety did so, the unity that was once shown had dissolved away instead into a situation of every man for themselves.

With their fearful cries came out those whom had survived the ambush within the church, cultists still adorned in their makeshift armors, some having salvaged the armor from the fallen Barothy soldiers, most of them covered in blood, either their own armaments or those procured. Everyone looked on alongside Vyra and Veronica, watching as makeshift soldiers and villagers fled in all directions, some of them stained in blood, others looking as those they themselves had been wounded.

Confusion ran rampant throughout the onlookers, until suddenly a loud howl turned everyone’s attention up the hill not so far out.

There it stood.

The towering creature, standing far taller than that of any actual human, certainly a monster, but the question being only just what kind of creature. As it moved towards the church, lunging for and crushing any individual too slow to get out of its path, there came a cacophony of stunned expressions and gasps, realizing exactly what they were looking at.

It were no monster so to speak, but rather instead a werewolf!

“Gallahan…” Veronica stammered out, hardly able to believe it for herself.

A host of heads turned in direction of the Countess, Vyra’s included. It seemed hard to believe that the knight whom had first captured her, that had essentially set all of this forward, was actually a werewolf.

“Your father had a werewolf as one of his knights!?”

“He never told me how he had won him over, he would never confirm it. But everyone had a feeling. If it weren’t that, it would have been something else…”

Nobody said anything more, nobody sure of how to respond. Perhaps out of fear, out of confusion, no shortage of questions still lingering. But perhaps more, the question that everyone seemed to think, but found themselves unsure of quite how to ask or answer.

How does one kill a werewolf?

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Everyone seemed more fixated upon the frenzied werewolf to realize what had been taking place within the church, the protests of the blinded Sister Talia being almost drowned out by the sound of dragging metal.

Amongst those upon the steps or just outside of the church, it was Vyra who noticed him first; Ser Gholston, much of his armor stripped away save for the helmet, pauldrons, and a few other pieces. Elsewhere, little skin showed through heavy, bloodied bandages, having been wrapped time and time again, yet a thick crimson coating still permeating through the cloth. Within his hand were the massive warblade, the tip of the blade leaving a long streak as it were dragged along the floor.

In near sequence, the others turned their attention in his direction, some moving out of the way, others too stunned to believe him capable of moving still. When the Lady Veronica Barothy turned, her eyes widened with absolute fear, the first true instance of worry and panic upon her face that Vyra had seen to this point.

“Ser Gholston!”

The knight said nothing, simply walking forward still, as though this were the only thing left in its life. It were the pulling upon the knight, the female fingers slipping in and clutching a piece of one of the few remaining pieces of armor still upon the knight’s body did he stop moving.

“Please… please don’t go…” Veronica’s words were weak, it impossible to ignore the tears that were falling, genuine terror and fear for what may have been the last moments that her champion, her closest confident, would still be standing.

Vyra didn’t know what to say, looking on like the others had, a part of her wanting to step forward, another part as much still in shock at the display of honor shown by the knight whom up to this point had never shown it prior.

“My life for your reign…”

Ser Gholston moved forward, the strength draining out of Veronica Barothy’s body as she were able to do little more than just watch, the only comfort coming from the pair of Sisters whom had emerged in the front, both of them being the support for the Lady whilst everyone watched Ser Gholston move towards the former knight werewolf.

“Ha! Gholston, you’re barely a shell of yourself,” the werewolf Gallahan echoed out in a delighted, almost fiendish roar, “I’ll put you down like the traitor you are…”

Gallahan leaned forward, ready to pounce, stopped only by the sound of a crossbow being fired, shooting and striking the beast in the shoulder. An otherwise insignificant wound, but still one to register the former knight’s attention as the cultists upon the steps mobilized against him, fighting alongside Ser Gholston for what may have been the very last time.

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“Our Lord’s greatest fault will be not wiping out your miserable lot beforehand. I will ensure that once I’ve finished ripping you all apart that nobody will ever dare wear those hoods,” Gallahan roared out again, his anger seeming to be all the more furious than before.

Another cultist loaded a bolt within their crossbow, barely able to leverage it into an aiming position before the werewolf were on top of him, nearly splitting the man in two as a claw swiped down, tearing through skin and bone, stopped only by the makeshift armor. Another bolt shot through the air, penetrating through the upper back of Ser Gallahan, the cultist only able to have enough time due to the relative distance.

Frustration towards the cultists provided the valuable time to allow Ser Gholston time to prepare himself, but it was clear enough that even hindered by the repeated crossbow bolts fired upon him, the werewolf Gallahan were still in far more formidable shape.

“You have to help him,” Sister Talia called out to Vyra, the Demi-Human having been upon the steps, too stunned to do anything.

Vyra looked to the blind Sister, the fear prevalent upon her face. “How!?”

Talia looked sternly upon the Demi-Human, eyes concealed behind the blackened silk blindfold penetrating through Vyra’s own soul, “By accepting what you’re to become. The Nightmare.”

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Vyra froze.

It couldn’t have been that Sister Talia were actually suggesting this.

She looked to Sister Mara, hoping that her fellow Sister were wrong, that maybe the orange-haired Sister would object. Perhaps speak in protest. None of that were evident upon her face.

Whatever panic, whatever fear that there may have been in the idea of Vyra embracing such a fate, at the moment it stood the difference potentially between them surviving and a brutal death at the hands of the werewolf, whom by this point had run through much of the cultists that were fighting, leaving only a small few with Ser Gholston still standing.

Vyra turned back towards the fighting, frozen. The werewolf certainly terrified her, but so did the idea of becoming what she never sought to be. Her dream, the reunion with her other self, to become that, Vyra couldn’t do it.

She wouldn’t.

But she would.

The Sisters may not have seen it, but as Vyra looked on to the fighting, the color faded from her eyes. The purples turned to black, fading into nothing before returning to normal, the terrified gaze shifting instead to a wicked smile.

Saying not a word, she proceeded towards the fight, it having been far too long since she had been in control of this body. Not since the Witch Hunter Aegir sought to betray her had she been in this world, but now things were different, in more than one way.

She could feel the power now, the essence that now also flowed through her. It was different. Horrifying in one manner, but wholly satisfying as well, to the point that she felt far more than she had ever before. That her other side could not appreciate this power that was within her, it only showed her true foolishness, as if that were even something in question.

The idea of the power floated throughout in her mind, in particular to what she would do with it, what she was capable of now. Her mind danced with the prospects and the horrors that she would be able to achieve with it, just how she would be able to finally have her fun with the Blue Pegasus Guild Leader, the bitch whom had made her existence as difficult as it had proven to be.

But that would have to wait, if only for the moment.

As she moved towards Ser Gholston, supporting his own weight, but seeming to be able to do just barely that, Vyra looked to him with a wicked smile upon her face. “Allow me. I’ve been wanting to have some fun.” Not even waiting for an acknowledgement, she turned her attention back towards the werewolf, multiple crossbow bolts and several small daggers even plunged throughout his body, but with nearly all of the cultists having fallen at this point.

As its claws ripped through the last of cultists, severing the head entirely from that of the body, the entity that was formerly known as Ser Gallahan turned towards Gholston, expecting the near-fallen knight and instead seeing the Demi-Human looking on. “So, here we are. I should have killed you back in the east. I’ll avenge that mistake now!”

As he shifted his legs, crouching down as he prepared to pounce, Vyra snapped her fingers.

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Name: Terrors of Nightmares
Rank: S
Mana Cost: 500
Requirements: Nightmare Dragon Slayer Magic
Type: Supplementary
Element: Arcane
Range: 25 Meters
Cooldown: 5 Posts
Duration: Sustain - 5 Posts
Effect: Vyra snaps her fingers and curses a target with a glimpse of their own mortality, briefly aging the target. Imagining itself with an infirm body of advanced age, the afflicted believes it is no longer capable of youthful exertions. This causes the target to suffer from a Minor Physical Weakness as long as the spell is sustained. The weakness only applies to the body of the target and not their equipment. Furthermore, Vyra can't curse multiple targets at once. The spell doesn't stop affecting a target if they get out of range. The curse can, however, only be sustained for 5 posts on a target.

In that moment, the werewolf fell to the ground, the numerous crossbow bolts, dagger piercings, every wound taken in the immediacy and before suddenly rushed through its body. A wave of pain and agony escaped as a howl of pain crept through him. “What… What have you done?”

The werewolf sought to stand, the pain from a pair of bolts within its left leg being enough to completely prevent its ability to stand.

Vyra simply looked on with glee, “You like it? Just a new little trick I managed to pick up on. I mean it, tell how it feels. I’m so curious!”

Ser Gallahan simply looked upon Vyra, his face seeming to as much convey absolute hatred and utter confusion. However it were capable, he seemed to tell that the Vyra speaking were not the same as whom he had encountered only days before, “You’re different…”

“I’m the one that you should wished to encounter. Then maybe this little, disaster of yours, may have been avoided…” The werewolf looked to respond, stuck on exactly the words, but Vyra did not seem to care much even then, looking upon the beast with a look of absolute contempt.

Her face began to blend away as darkness materialized around her, the visage that stared upon the werewolf being abandoned and instead lost towards an amalgamation of something, something deadly, something horrid. Pure Nightmare.

Ser Gallahan, having looked upon the Demi-Human throughout, simply looked further on with fear, his resolve draining away with every moment. “What… What… What are you?”

“I’m the Nightmare…”

Nothing more was said. Nothing more was needed. In that immediate moment, Ser Gholston brought down his own blade, throwing with all the strength and force remaining within his body, upon the head of the downed and terrified Ser Gallahan, the werewolf’s skull splitting open, sending blood, bone, and brain matter in all directions, just another compliment for the absolute blood bath that had been splattered throughout.

Meanwhile upon the steps of the church, the two Sisters looked on, a part of their hearts sinking in despair, while something else stirred within them. A feeling of relief perhaps?

“She has embraced it,” Sister Mara remarked, a sense of pride perhaps within her voice.

Sister Talia nodded, “Indeed. Indeed she has.”

Upon both of their faces, the smile began to form.

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Name: Terrors of Nightmares
Rank: S
Mana Cost: 500
Requirements: Nightmare Dragon Slayer Magic
Type: Supplementary
Element: Arcane
Range: 25 Meters
Cooldown: 5 Posts
Duration: Sustain - 5 Posts
Effect: Vyra snaps her fingers and curses a target with a glimpse of their own mortality, briefly aging the target. Imagining itself with an infirm body of advanced age, the afflicted believes it is no longer capable of youthful exertions. This causes the target to suffer from a Minor Physical Weakness as long as the spell is sustained. The weakness only applies to the body of the target and not their equipment. Furthermore, Vyra can't curse multiple targets at once. The spell doesn't stop affecting a target if they get out of range. The curse can, however, only be sustained for 5 posts on a target.


Name: Horrors of Nightmares
Rank: S
Mana Cost: 500
Requirements: Nightmare Dragon Slayer Magic
Type: Debuff (Fear)
Element: Darkness
Range: -
Cooldown: 5 Posts
Duration: Sustain
Effect: Vyra manifests the Horrors of Nightmares through themselves, turning her appearance into that of a bogeyman that haunts the nightmares of even the bravest souls. Vyra can then select a target who has seen the Horrors of Nightmares and reduce their attributes by 20%. She may use this spell on multiple targets at once, however, they must pay additional mana per affected target. Once a target has seen the Horrors of Nightmares, they will be terrified of it no matter how far they remove themselves from the user in the topic. It is said that those who witnessed the Horrors of Nightmares and survived a battle versus the Nightmare Dragon Slayer came prepared the next time by having their eyes gouged out.

The Nightmarish aura around her ceased. The color returned to her eyes, the blackness fading.

Even if it were for a moment, the darker persona had gotten a taste, relishing in the absolute darkness that nobody could have ever envisioned or having enjoyed before.

But a taste were only that. Time would eventually have her return again, the greater breadth of her capabilities realized. But that was to come.

For now, the child returned, Vyra returning to her own consciousness as she glared around her. Only a moment before she were standing upon the church steps, struggling to comprehend the brutality of everything going on, but now she found herself right in the middle of all of this. The immediate smell, the gore and blood, she found herself wishing to vomit, desperately wanting to be away from all of this.

With tears in her eyes and a sickly feeling throughout her body, the Demi-Human rushed towards the Sisters, running opposite of Veronica Barothy who ran towards the wounded Ser Gholston, the sobs coming from both of them audible. As the Demi-Human reached out to the Sisters, she met their unexpected embrace, both holding onto her, comforting hands soothing her as the tears flowed down her cheeks.

“It’s OK my dear, it’s all right,” Sister Mara remarked, holding tightly onto the Demi-Human.

“Everything will be fine. You’re stronger than you realize,” Sister Talia also said, similarly comforting Vyra. “We should not waste time though.”

Vyra lifted her head, unsure of what the blinded Sister meant, “Waste time?”

Neither Sister said anything at first, looking at one another for a moment before looking back to the Demi-Human, “There is something you must do.”

“What?”

“It is better if we show you.” Sister Talia turned to Sister Mara, “I will lead the girl inside. Prepare everything.” Sister Mara said nothing, simply agreeing and disappearing within the church.

Though Vyra was fearful of what was to happen, she proceeded inside, the blind Sister holding her close throughout.

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Some time passed, Vyra still unsure of quite what to expect, unsure of what the Sisters sought to do with her.

To not have to be outside though, with all of the carnage and bloodshed still all too present within her memory, just the latest in what had proven to be an absolute saga of death of carnage, more than what she ever wished for her in life, even in spite of some instances being of her own hand. It did not change just how much she wished to be home. The idea of returning to Hosenka, something that she had loosely considered, was now secondary. She wanted to be home, to confide in Alisa what happened.

Perhaps afterwards, if a vacation could happen, she may enjoy that.

“Talia,” Sister Mara called out from the hallway just outside of the main church area, “It’s ready.”

For the Demi-Human, seated on one of the pews with the blinded Sister seated beside her, there was a look of concern upon her face. She did not know what to expect, did not understand any of the reasonings behind what was going on, but at this point, after everything that had happened, it felt like the only ones that she could trust were the Sisters. They had spared her, provided her aid, and had proven to be a lone salvation towards the plight that she had endured since arriving in the North.

Taking Sister Talia by the hand as they walked towards the back hallway, Vyra somewhat expected that she would have encountered an elaborate ritual site, candles laid about, a book with old demonic writings upon it, but there was nothing of the sort. Instead, Vyra found herself being led to the room in which she had been staying in, nothing seeming to be different about it, save for Sister Mara, standing there with a small glass vial with a crimson, reddish liquid within it.

“What’s going on,” the Demi-Human asked, not sure exactly what to expect, and a part of her being a bit too afraid to ask.

“Nothing special. A rather simple thing. Mara, is it ready?”

Sister Mara nodded, “It’s in my hand right now.”

“Good. Vyra, you have taken the first step in embracing the Nightmare…”

Vyra froze, her mind quickly piecing together what happened, the difference in where she ended up, the lapse in time. Her legs went weak as the reality that her other personality had taken hold of her once again, pushing her along a route that she never wished to venture, if it had not been for the blind sister taking hold of her that she may well have fallen into despair.

“Do not fear. You have achieved more than what others had tried to do.” She paused, taking a deep breath before continuing, “More than even me.”

Her eyes widened, Vyra looking on with intrigue and worry as the blind Sister removed the blindfold, revealing the long scar along her face, having fully severed through both eyes. Seeing this, Vyra wanted to gasp, to say something, but found herself simply holding her hands to her mouth, completely at a loss for words.

“I tried to embrace the Nightmare, but couldn’t. I thought myself capable, but failed. So did Mara,” as she said this, Vyra turned towards the orange-haired Sister, who nodded in affirmation to what Talia said.

“Few are capable of being touched by it. Seldom few manage to ever gain control over it.”

“But, I don’t want it… I don’t want to have it…” Though she protested, it seemed that her pleas fell upon deaf ears, both Sisters recognizing her dread, but being otherwise adamant.

“For the Nightmare to be left untamed… There is no telling just whom may be prompted next… What they may do…”

The Demi-Human sighed in utter defeat, “Haven’t I suffered enough?”

“I am sorry, Vyra…”

[3933/2500]

She lay there, waiting for the sleep to take her.

The ritual underway; something so simple that she had figured it to be elaborate, confusing, if not even something that she would have come to fear.

All she had been asked to do were to consume the red elixir and sleep.

It seemed too simple to be all that were required, and yet, even the idea of doing just this felt as though it were the burden of a world unmatched. Everything in her person wished to not be in this situation, to sooner through away the vial, watch the contents of it disappear into the world, and depart for somewhere else, never to be seen or have to endure this fate. But she knew it were impossible to escape.

Especially with her own other persona having already stolen that choice from her.

Thanks to Vyra’s darker side, she were becoming the Nightmare, whether she wished it or not.

The whole process left her anxious; as much wanting to sleep as she found herself dreading any sort of idea of sleeping, fueled in part by the combination of what was to come when she finally drifted asleep, as it were the memories of what she saw, the aftermath of the apparent confrontation with the werewolf Ser Gallahan. It left her terrified of what may have stood to happen, what either she or the other her would have been capable of.

But those fears seemed to fade away as the sense of sleep began to overtake her.

[4189/2500]

Her dream were no different than before, much the same hellscape that she had reunited with her other self, but this time there were something much worse to it.

A feeling that it were no longer even her own dream.

With each step taken, the world shifted around her, the subtle changes that were once present lost instead for drastic shifts, the world changing more and more, a reddish hue beginning to overtake absolutely everything. The world as she knew it was gone, instead replaced by something else entirely.

A sickly feeling overwhelmed her, terrified her, leaving each step taken as though it were taking the very life out of her body, yet she found herself still pressing forward, agonizing over all of it, desperately wishing to be awaken again, if not by her own will, then by someone else.

Are you afraid?

Something filled the air. Not a voice, but so much as a feeling. A sense. Something hard to quite describe, but it absolutely sent a chill down her spine, all but petrifying her.

Are you afraid?

Her eyes darted in all directions, wishing to know where it was coming from, being left absolutely unsure of what to expect, but praying that nothing turn behind her like she would have expected her other self to.

It's only you here. You and me.

“What… what are you?” Vyra asked, her voice gone, a sense of utter terror overwhelming her now, the essence of whatever it was now making her all the more wishing to be out of here.

You already know.

“Do I?”

I can see your fear. I know your lies. I taste it in your very being.

A tear began to flow down her cheek, the fear being too much, whatever it were in here, it something that she wished to never encounter.

Are you afraid?

“Yes… I just want to go home…” She pleaded, praying that the world around her were no more. Within the church, within the North, in the East, back home in the South, it did not matter where. Just not here.

What home?

“With Alisa… with my Guild…”

For a period, there seemed to be no response. Whatever it was that existed, it had gone quiet. The fear that had built up within her chest seemed to wane, finally feeling like she could actually breath.

Hahahahahahahahaha…

The laughter echoed throughout, the ground shaking, the very fabric of the realm she were in seeming to break apart, holes ripping through the ground and sky alike, massive eyes peering throughout them, all of them looking at Vyra.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA…

The laughter got louder, the eyes became more vibrant, more pronounced, suddenly Vyra feeling even more alone within this realm, her desire even more and more wishing to be rid of this place.

It got louder, to the point of becoming deafening.

And then it stopped.

[4669/2500]

She awoke in the bed in an absolute panic.

Light peered through the window, the sun having long since risen already, the new day upon them.

Beside her sat Sister Talia and Sister Mara, both of whom watched on with equal parts intrigue and concern for the girl. As Vyra shot up, it was the orange-haired Sister whom eased her back, holding her as she brushed the girl’s hair, red in color now.

“What happened!? Why is my hair red?”

“Those who encounter the Nightmare react differently to it. For some, the overwhelming of their senses. For others, doubt in their realities. To simply have your pigment changed, you are beyond fortunate,” Talia said, her words more matter-of-factly than anything, certainly to at least some degree condescending.

“It may not be much of a consolation, but you do look lovely with red hair.”

Vyra sighed. In some right, especially as Sister Talia explained it, red hair may not have been anywhere close to as bad of a circumstance endured, but it hardly felt reassuring. Why so much less severe for her than compared to what the Sisters faced? She felt uneasy through all of it, the only thing that she came to think of at this point being returning home. To that, she hoped to find the new Lady Barothy, to properly express her congratulations.

“Where is Veronica?”

“The people took Ser Gholston for proper medical attention. The Lady insisted upon joining them.” Vyra frowned, wishing that she could have said goodbye. “She did want to extend you her best wishes, and wanted us to provide you with something.”

Sister Mara disappeared for a moment, returning in short order holding a small chest in her hands, a variety of ornaments and other embellishments upon it giving it a prestigious and important feel towards it. “For you. She said it would not satisfy the debt she owes you, but hoped that you would take it in an effort to start.”

Within it, a beautiful outfit. Not quite a dress, nor quite something else. Hard to say for certain just what it was, but absolutely incredible, an outfit that Vyra was all too thrilled to be gifted, all the more wishing that she could have personally thanked Veronica for such a gift.

“There was something else,” Talia began, to which her fellow Sister again departed the room, returning a moment later with another item, this one being one far more intimidating. A sword, by the looks of it.

“Rosaria.” Talia said, the pride full in her voice. “Once upon a time, this had been my weapon, before I had encountered the Nightmare. Since…” She stopped, sighing at her remembrance of a time past, “For me, the Blade can no longer serve me. But you, you may yet find great value with it.”

Vyra looked at the weapon, imposing and huge in size, one that almost certainly would require both of her hands to be able to hold effectively. Even just the simple swords that she had found herself using seemed grossly out of character and unwieldly to her, so to be given something like this, it felt like there could have been plenty of other items that would have better suited her.

Despite these reservations, Vyra smiled and hugged Talia, whom following an initial moment of surprise, reciprocated the hug.

“Thank you. Both of you. For everything.”

“I only wish we could have done more for you Vyra,” Sister Mara said with a sense of unfulfillment, genuinely wishing that there had been more to be done; guilt apparent to the fate of the Demi-Human.

“We just hope for the best. You walk a dangerous road. Just know that we believe in you.”

“You’ve shown more than most whom have gone down this path. You’re stronger than you realize.”

Finding a small bit of comfort in their words, Vyra could not help but still find herself terrified at what may have stood to happen next. It left her terrified, being drawn towards a fate that she never wanted. But, not the first time that she had been given a poor hand.

She had endured what the world had thrown of her up to this point.

She only hoped that she would be able to overcome the Nightmare too.

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