It started with a crack in the sky.
The group had just begun to relax, sprawled across the grassy hill outside the dome's training facility, when everything went still. The breeze paused. The sky darkened. And then—like thunder rolling backwards—a rip opened above them, black and oozing mist.
From it, something fell.
He wore no armour, no grand robe—just dark skin, silver eyes, and a cloak that dragged shadows behind him. His presence made the grass curl in on itself and the light bend away.
Sia stood immediately. "Get behind me," she said, voice tight but calm.
Liana squinted. "Who the hell is this guy?"
"A messenger of Death," the man said simply. "Death sends his love. And a warning."
Without another word, the air exploded.
The group was thrown apart, dirt and flame erupting around them. Alex rolled, body screaming from impact. Liana was already dragging Mia back, blood trailing from her shoulder. Kyle leapt toward the stranger, only to be slapped from the sky like a fly.
They tried to fight. Of course they did. But nothing worked. The messenger didn't dodge, didn't even move—he just stood there, watching them fall again and again. His strikes weren't punches. They were insults.
"You're not supposed to die today," he said to Alex, after crushing him into a crater. "But it's tempting."
Sia burst between them, eyes glowing with quiet fury. "Enough. They're just kids."
"You're defying Father?" the messenger asked.
"No," she said coldly. "I'm saving your future victims."
You won't stop him?" Alex shouted, ducking another strike.
"I'm not allowed to!" she snapped, then grabbed his arm. "But I know someone who can."
And there she stood—Ciara. Glowing eyes and not a scratch on her.
"Seriously?" she said, unimpressed, cracking her knuckles.
The messenger faltered for the first time.
"Go," Ciara said without looking back at them. "I've got this."
"You sure?" Alex asked.
She smirked. "I'm not thousands of years mature for nothing."
"Move!" Sia yelled, yanking them forward. One by one, they leapt into the teleporter. Behind them, Ciara and the messenger clashed in a whirlwind of light and shadow.
Right before Alex vanished, he saw Ciara land a punch that cracked the sky.
Then nothing.
Just silence and light.
The air around them pulsed with a sudden, electric charge, like the world was vibrating beneath their feet. Alex felt his stomach lurch, as if the ground beneath him had vanished and he was falling, but without any actual movement. His body buzzed, every muscle tensing as if trying to hold onto something solid, but there was nothing to grip.
The world spun faster and faster, like a dizzying whirlpool. For a split second, Lily's mind tried to grasp what was happening, but it was impossible—her thoughts fractured, scattered across different planes of awareness. A pressure built up inside her chest, like her body was being squeezed and stretched all at once, only to have the sensation disappear as quickly as it came.
And then—
A sudden, sharp snap.
****
Ciara stood alone in the ruined hall, her sword gleaming in the dim light as the messenger paced, his eyes cold and focused. The silence was suffocating until he struck first—a bolt of dark energy flying toward her with blinding speed. She sidestepped just in time, the blast hitting the stone wall behind her and splintering it to dust.
"You're not like the others," the messenger sneered, his voice cold as ice.
Ciara gripped her sword tightly. "Then let's see what you've got."
They collided. His fists, wreathed in shadow, met her blade with a violent crash. The force sent her stumbling back, but she quickly recovered, slashing at his chest. He blocked with a forearm, the power of the strike sending him skidding back a few feet.
But he was relentless, closing the distance again, his body moving faster than she could react. He struck with a barrage of punches and dark blasts, forcing her to dodge and weave, her heart racing.
Ciara's breath came in shallow gasps as she parried another blow, narrowly avoiding a blast to the chest. She needed space. Her feet danced across the ground, her sword a blur of flashing steel, but he was faster. Each blow was heavier, the ground beneath her feet trembling with his force.
She knew she couldn't keep this up. She was on the defensive now, barely managing to avoid his strikes. The messenger's laugh echoed in the hall, cruel and mocking. He lunged at her, his fist crackling with more dark energy than before.
It was then she decided—if she couldn't win with strength, she'd win with trickery.
If there is one thing this messenger didn't know, it was her powers at play, and she was counting on it.
In the heat of the battle, Ciara feigned a misstep, her foot slipping on the broken ground. She let out a sharp breath, her hand skimming across the Messenger's blade as it sliced into her palm. The blood oozed slowly, dripping onto the floor beneath her.
The messenger, seeing an opening, charged forward, his sword raised to strike.
But as his foot came down on the blood-soaked ground, the blood exploded, sending a burst of force out in all directions. The shockwave threw both of them back. For a moment, the world was nothing but chaos—light, force, and debris flying everywhere.
As the dust settled, Ciara could barely stand, her wound burning, but she was still alive. The teleporter flickered to life beside her, its hum filling the silence. She stumbled toward it, her vision blurring. The messenger was already pushing himself up from the ground, enraged, but it was too late.
With one final, knowing glance toward him, Ciara stepped into the teleporter.