An Eldritch Legacy: Sin & Sacrilege

While these changes did little to alter her most likely fate or the threat she carried within, they gave her something to hold onto. A small positive. A flicker of light in the future she was now walking toward. Perhaps—just perhaps—it was a sign from fate that there was a silver lining hidden somewhere along the way.

In the storm that she had found herself thrust into she had found the raft that would most likely capsize the next moment, but it was still something to hold onto in these turbid waters...

All she had to do was keep searching for it.

But beyond the physical, she felt the weight of a presence inside her...

Not the voice—it had vanished, fleeting and elusive—but she knew, in time, they would meet again.

Not the chasm or the grotesque chains of flesh that gnawed at her mental scape. Those had become unnoticeable like a bad memory, despite how repulsive they were. At least, they would remain dormant for now—unless certain circumstances called them forth.

No, this weight was something else entirely. The slumbering being within her.

She hadn't understood it before, but the moment she touched the threshold, an innate knowledge had awakened. This was her Dominion—the Dominion of the Oathkeeper.

Within her, the Oathkeeper had stirred. What this meant for her future, she did not yet know.

But it gave her a sense of security her newfound powers couldn't. She wasn't alone anymore—not in her struggle against fate. There was more to rely on now.

The flames were like screeching banshees, snakes that though helped now, she would not realise when they poisoned her, the chains....that was self explanatory.

The problem, though, was connection. She had no idea how to reach out to it.

She could feel it—knew she had awakened it prematurely—but even so, it gave her the peace of mind she had been desperately craving. The past few days had felt like a storm, everything moving too fast for her to track. First, her world slipped through her fingers, then she discovered the tragic thing slumbering inside her. She had been forced to rely on the lesser evil to restrain what her ancestor's stupidity had birthed.

In the chaos of all that had happened, this was the one piece of reassurance she had. Even if the Oathkeeper was inaccessible now, the mere fact that it existed—within her—was enough.

Walking out of the luminous pool, she shivered slightly from the cold night air. But as if sensing her discomfort, an inky flame flickered across her skin, evaporating the water that clung to her. She was dry in seconds.

Though she still didn't understand how her powers worked, she had begun to observe a pattern by comparing the moments when she had used them. She needed to confirm her suspicions.

She willed her garments to burn—and the flames responded eagerly, leaving behind nothing but ash.

They were not useful to her anymore, they reminded her of how her body was defiled in the legacy world.

Seeing how gleeful the resentful flames were at destroying anything tied to her, she couldn't help but be amused.

She was, quite literally, using her worst enemy to protect herself from her own power.

The irony wasn't as amusing as she'd hoped—but it was a small price to pay in the grand scheme of things.

---

Istrabell exhaled slowly, clenching her fists as she composed herself. Now she could return to the Silverflames.

They would most likely believe she had disappeared due to the awakening of the family legacy—and likely had a general idea of where she might have been. They wouldn't be searching. They wouldn't think she was missing.

Still, to maintain appearances, they would spread messages of distress—claiming that their daughter had vanished after the Surge.

It was a convenient story, designed to quell suspicion—especially after the death of yet another husband candidate from a major family like the Flamehearts.

Her family knew that those boys were nothing but sacrifices for the ceremony, but the public couldn't be allowed to catch even a whiff of such rumors. They would deny everything—even when confronted.

But those who understood the inner workings of the walker world would pick up on these small details.

In fact, Istrabell suspected the victims' families already held suspicions. But due to the nature of the deaths, there was no evidence. Everyone who had been present would say the same thing:

The boys had been ripped to shreds by monsters and abominations, overwhelmed by chaos.

Even Istrabell knew this to be true. Her only role had been to be there when they died—and ensure she was the last thing they saw before they lost their light.

Afterward, she would gather whatever remained of them and carry it to the grasslands in the pocket realm her family maintained.

It was difficult—nearly impossible—to connect those events to sacrificial rites or the occult.

The real challenge came from the parents demanding something—anything—to bury. They had to create more excuses, more lies, to cover it all up.

It was a hectic endeavor, no matter how seamless it seemed on the surface.

And no one could deny how strained the relationships between her family and others had become.

Their reputation hadn't yet taken a hit—but that didn't mean they had escaped unscathed.

And all of it… all of it had been done to give her a chance to awaken.

If she hadn't understood the perversity of her family, she might have found something twistedly sweet in it.

But now she knew better. There was nothing but grim joy in their hearts—joy at the chaos they could sow.

If her suspicions were correct, then she had to be ready for the pushback.

She didn't know what kind of people she would be returning to—and that scared her more than anything. The idea of living under the same roof with them again...

Terrified her.

---

Not long after, Istrabell finally stepped out of the hidden village.

Behind her, tongues of inky black flame licked away every trace of the place, consuming it to the ground.

She had expected some resistance from the flames when she gave the order—after all, she was asking them to destroy the place they had called home.

But to her surprise, they were eager—almost excited.

Now, she watched the place that had once been the source of her greatest terror—and ironically, the source of the hope that gave her the strength to resist. Without it, she might have gone back and become just like her family.

Just another husk of their former selves.