To step out back within the estate, no longer under the influence of the collar, no longer a slave to the demands of the woman whom had purchased her rights, it felt as though it were the first time that Vyra were truly seeing it.

A lovely change. A welcome one at that. Whilst the weapon, the Nightmare that so brazenly enwrapped around her arm, creating itself, molding itself into its own entity, gave her the means of escaping; the capability to fight off anyone whom the Red Queen may have yet had defending her estate, it would be a job half finished.

The invitation still rang true in her mind, the offer made by the Lady of Thorns, a promise that she touched upon. An offer to betray her initial purpose towards the Red Queen, in favor of her. A rare opportunity, one only amplified and made more impactful in the wake of how Vyra’s departure from Blue Pegasus had deprived her of so many moving forward.

Even despite the murkiness of her past venture through here, the route shown by the Red Queen remained fresh in her mind. Before so much as taking a few steps towards the large staircase did she notice the figures descending it to meet her.

The muted handmaiden. The one whom on multiple past occasions had sought to impede her, to show her the demeaning nature of her stature as a servant and her as her oppressor, her superior. A sense of rage filled within Vyra, as much wanting to cut her down as it seemed was felt by her contemporary, no words expressed by the handmaiden, but rather instead a look of scorn and contempt that rivalled, if not dwarfed, Vyra’s own.

“Just let me go,” Vyra pleaded, not so much for her own sake, but rather because in the back of her heart she knew how this encounter would end. “Please…”

The handmaiden said nothing in response, just continued down the steps, her eyes remaining ever fixated upon Vyra. If there were fear or any doubt, nothing within her face seemed to show it. A few steps more and she finally stopped, glancing outright upon Vyra, her focus shifting towards the Nightmarish arm of hers as well, and only upon that did it seem that there were any differing emotion on her face than what she had first conveyed.

Fear perhaps? Uncertainty more than anything.

From behind her, she pulled out a weapon. Nothing spectacular, a flail and chain. A conventional weapon, one that would more appropriately suit the soldiers than perhaps that of a handmaiden, but given how she handled herself with Vyra in the past, there was little doubt in the Demi-Human’s mind that this were a weapon that she was very acclimated towards, very used to. She took a step forward, the flail going in all directions as the woman whipped it with zero disregard, hoping to draw out some level of intimidation out of Vyra, but shortly thereafter stopping upon seeing it having no apparent effect on the Demi-Human.

It was as much a fight that they both wanted, that they were both excited towards.

They charged towards each other, the handmaiden moving with the expected level of speed and agility that she had shown before, but Vyra perhaps proving to be an unexpected factor. Stride for stride, she kept with, if not outmatched the handmaiden, the Nightmarish appendage absorbing much the brunt of the handmaiden’s assault, causing no genuine harm towards Vyra in circumstances that certainly would have shattered her arm time again.

But that protection did not extend to the handmaiden, unaware or expected of what Vyra’s weapon of choice would have stood to yield. She felt it firsthand though, as the fist manifested into a slightly larger claw, shredding through her side, a snarled cracking and rupturing sound filling the air as she looked down to see the carnage. Her outfit ripped apart, showing the brutal damage inside as bone, organ, and flesh were eviscerated, ripped out like that of a cat’s claws tearing through a silken filament trying to hold on. Blood and internal matter soaked onto the ground just below.

She looked on with difficulty, struggling to appreciate the damage dealt to her.

As did Vyra. The Demi-Human looked with disbelief at how much a single strike had done, but she could believe the face that she saw upon the handmaiden began to collapse, one that was as much riddled with contempt towards her as it was grateful to her.

As the body hit the ground, Vyra could not help but wonder if the handmaiden were just like her. Had she been forced into this sort of life that Vyra had found herself in?

Questions that would have perhaps mattered if the handmaiden were still alive ultimately.

She was dead. Vyra was not. And the Lady of Thorns awaited.

The carnage did not dissolve away Vyra’s memory of the estate and its layout, the room from which the Lady of Thorns emerged at first still fresh within her mind. Entering inside of it, she admittedly could not help but smile, seeing the white-haired woman seated upon her bed, sipping on a cup of something, as if waiting for someone.

Waiting for her.

“Good to see you’ve arrived. I take it no issues as far as getting to this point?” A smirk on the woman’s face as much indicated she knew what had transpired up to this point, perhaps even taking a bit of delight in Vyra’s bloodlust. “You needn’t answer that. We both know already. Please. Take a seat.”

Vyra did as requested, for once feeling a sense of relief and calmness than the tense hell that she had been forced to endure since arriving here.

“Lady Katrina sought my services to conduct an agreement. The Pact of the Dead God, to be precise,” the Lady of Thorns spoke plainly, her attention and focus diverted in all directions as she handled things, allowing Vyra a chance to rest and digest everything. “Immortality, or undeath as some would prefer viewing it as. Few know of it, even fewer seek it, but all would kill for it, knowing the potential.”

“Wars were waged for it, an infinite number of lives sacrificed in pursuing it…” The Lady of Thorns turned to face Vyra again, a small trunk now in her hands. Returning back to the bed, she looked kindly at Vyra, “To think, such an easier option existed and none were the wiser…”

With a single key, the sound of multiple gears shifting within the box sprung off, filling the silence with a brief grinding of metal, filling the aair with the smell of undeath and carrion. It took all the will of the Demi-Human to not vomit upon the introduction of the smell, though the Lady of Thorns seemed unaffected.

As she lifted her hands from within the small chest, there it was. A heart, or what remained of a heart. Rotten to the core, phlegm, diseased flesh, and no shortage of other foul contagions riddled throughout it. The sight caused Vyra’s eyes to water, the desire to pass out from disgust nearly overwhelming.

“The Dead God demands sacrifice. Death of one, and the willingness to become dead themselves. This heart satisfies the second, the death of another sates the first.”

“You want me… to do what with that?” Vyra feared what may have been entailed by the woman’s words, her mind racing with worry.

“Consume it.” The Lady of Thorns said calmly, “To consume the body of the dead, the Dead God will listen. Otherwise, there may be no accord.”

Vyra looked upon it with disgust, in disbelief that the Lady of Thorns was truly asking this of her. “I… I can’t…”

A frown upon the face of the Lady of Thorns, “I came here to conduct the Pact with someone. I would prefer it being with the girl who walks with Nightmares if I had to make a choice.”

The Demi-Human’s eyes widened, terror upon the face of Vyra, “How… how did you!?”

A hand pat against the red hair of the former Blue Pegasus mage, one of comfort, almost of consolation. The Lady knelt down such that her eyes met with Vyra’s, “You’re important. More than you perhaps could hope to know.” She rose the heart to Vyra again, hopeful that the girl would reconsider.

The color faded from Vyra’s eyes, her body going faint if only for a short few seconds. The color returned, Vyra again returning to focus, but instead the darker persona having existed within her. Rather than looking upon the rotten heart with revulsion, she looked on with anticipation. A foreign excitement that the Lady of Thorns not only noticed, but seemed delighted to see. She watched as Vyra began to consume the heart, with each bite filling the contents of her mouth, her throat, her stomach, her nostrils, with the rancid ichor of long dead flesh.

With every fiber of her being to not upheave the contents of her stomach, Vyra ate on, consuming the rotten heart until there were nothing left.

A moment for satisfaction, if not for the agony that suddenly overcame her. A feeling of death, her entire body going weak, struggling to stand upright, to stay conscious. With each second it grew worse and worse, amplifying by the moment. Her breathing became heavy, her vision cloudy, her sense of smell and taste fading away into nothingness.

As her limp body fell onto the ground, the last bits of her consciousness fading away, she could not feel the hand gently grace her cheek. Nor could she see the wicked smile upon the face of the Lady of Thorns, looking at Vyra like a child who had made a mother proud. “You have made a lot of people very happy Vyra. More than you perhaps ever will realize.”

1654/1250 ( -50% | -20% Oración Seis Guild Level 2 Perk, -20% Explorer's Belt, -10% Companion)