Crimson & Light: Starting Over In A World Isn't As Easy As It Seems

The world seemed far away, muted by the suffocating walls of a dimly lit room. Berethia was young—just a child—when she first understood what envy felt like. It wasn't a slow realization, but a jarring, visceral pain that struck her like the sharpest blade.

Her sister, Alindra, was the light of their family. Beautiful, talented, and adored by everyone. Where Alindra walked, flowers seemed to bloom. And where Berethia followed, only shadows remained. Their parents doted on Alindra, heaping praise and love upon her, while Berethia was often an afterthought—a shadow of her sister's brilliance.

"Why can't you be more like Alindra?" The words were always said with a smile, but they burrowed deep into Berethia's heart like a festering wound. She tried—oh, how she tried—to emulate her sister. She practiced magic until her hands bled, studied until her vision blurred, and worked tirelessly to earn even a fraction of the affection Alindra received so effortlessly.

But it was never enough.

Alindra, with her golden hair and warm laugh, was perfection incarnate. Berethia, with her dark locks and quiet demeanor, was always second-best. The envy began to seep into every part of her, consuming her thoughts, twisting her perception of the world around her.

One night, as the two sisters sat by the fire, Alindra performed a simple magic trick. A small flame danced between her fingers, twisting into intricate shapes that mesmerized their parents.

"Show them something, Berethia," Alindra said, her voice kind but dripping with unintentional condescension.

Berethia hesitated, her palms sweaty. She attempted the same spell, but the flame sputtered and died. Her parents chuckled politely, their attention already back on Alindra.

Her sister leaned closer, whispering, "It's okay. You'll get there one day."

Berethia smiled through the sting, but deep inside, something cracked. She didn't want to "get there one day." She wanted to be seen now.

Years passed, and the resentment grew. Berethia became adept at hiding it, masking her envy with smiles and kind words. But behind the facade, her heart burned with a desire to prove her worth—not just to her family, but to herself.

One day, an opportunity arose. A powerful sorcerer arrived in their village, seeking an apprentice. He claimed he could teach the most promising student magic beyond imagination. Alindra, of course, was the favorite. But Berethia saw it as her chance.

For weeks, the sisters trained for the sorcerer's trial. Berethia poured every ounce of herself into preparation, determined to outshine her sister. She felt, for the first time, a flicker of hope. Maybe this time, she'd finally be enough.

This memory lingered heavily in Berethia's mind as she followed Changra, Jane, and Merrick through the corridors. Her face remained composed, her smile still warm, but inside, the envy she'd buried long ago was clawing its way back to the surface.

Every glance Jane gave Changra, every word of encouragement Merrick offered—it all reminded her of Alindra and the praise she could never quite grasp.

"Berethia?" Changra's voice pulled her from her thoughts.

She blinked, realizing she had been walking a few steps behind the group. "Sorry," she said quickly, forcing a smile. "Just lost in thought."

Merrick raised an eyebrow but said nothing, turning his focus back to the path ahead. The shadows danced ominously against the walls, the flickering torches casting an eerie glow. The air felt heavier, oppressive, as though the corridors themselves were watching.

Berethia clenched her fists, the memories threatening to overwhelm her. No. Not now. This isn't the time.

But the feeling of inadequacy gnawed at her, and the old wound began to reopen.

_____________________________________________________________________

The group lingered for a moment, their gazes locked on Liora's lifeless body. Jane's hand trembled as she clutched Changra's sleeve, her voice quivering as she whispered, "We can't just leave her here."

"We have to," Merrick said, his voice sharp but strained. "Staying will only get us killed too." His hand rested on his sword hilt, his knuckles white from the force of his grip.

Changra nodded reluctantly, his eyes lingering on Liora. She didn't deserve this. None of them did. The image of her lifeless form—her arm gone, her face twisted in a mix of pain and terror—burned into his mind.

Tessa's face was pale as she and Callen led the group forward. "It wasn't just the shadows," she said quietly, breaking the heavy silence. "There was something else."

Changra looked up, his brows furrowing. "What do you mean something else?"

Callen rubbed the back of his neck, his voice low and tense. "Something bigger, stronger. It didn't move like the shadows. It was… precise. Like it was hunting us."

Berethia, walking a few steps ahead, stiffened at the words. Her fists clenched at her sides, and for a fleeting moment, her expression darkened before she masked it with a neutral face. "What did it look like?" she asked, her tone flat but probing.

Tessa shivered, her hand gripping the hilt of her blade tightly. "It was humanoid, but… wrong. Its arms were too long, its movements too fast. And its eyes—" She stopped, swallowing hard. "They glowed red."

"Red?" Merrick's voice hardened. "Are you sure?"

Tessa nodded, glancing nervously over her shoulder as if expecting the creature to appear again. "It didn't stay long. It struck Liora down, and then it just… vanished."

Changra's stomach churned. A creature like that lurking in these corridors meant they were in far deeper trouble than he'd thought. "And the shadows?" he asked, his voice low. "Did they follow it?"

Callen nodded. "Yeah. Like they were obeying it."

Berethia's pace slowed, her fingers twitching slightly. "Obeying," she muttered under her breath, almost too quietly to be heard.

Changra caught the word and glanced at her, frowning. She was tense, more so than usual. Her normally confident stride had become rigid, her shoulders drawn tight. Was it just the stress of the situation, or was there something else going on?

Jane's voice broke through his thoughts. "Do you think it's still nearby?"

Merrick glanced back at her, his expression grim. "We have to assume it is. And if Tessa and Callen are right, we're dealing with something far more dangerous than shadows."

Changra swallowed hard, his hand brushing the hilt of his dagger. The Crimson Dagger seemed eerily silent, as if even it was wary of what lay ahead. "So what's the plan?" he asked.

"We keep moving," Merrick said firmly. "If we stay in one place, we're as good as dead. We need to find out what's causing this and put an end to it."

Berethia's gaze flicked to Merrick, her jaw tightening. "And if we can't?"

Merrick didn't answer immediately, his silence heavy with unspoken fears. Finally, he said, "Then we make sure we survive."

The group pressed on, the air growing colder and more oppressive with each step. The walls of the corridor seemed to close in around them, the dim light from their torches casting long, flickering shadows that danced like specters.

Tessa stayed close to Callen, her eyes darting nervously to every corner. "I swear I can still feel it watching us," she muttered.

"You're not the only one," Callen replied, his voice grim.

Changra tried to focus on the path ahead, but his mind kept drifting back to Liora. The image of her lifeless body haunted him, and the thought of that creature—those glowing red eyes—sent a shiver down his spine.

"You're quiet," Jane said softly, walking beside him.

"Just thinking," Changra replied, his voice hollow.

"You're blaming yourself," she said, her tone gentle but firm. "I can see it on your face."

Changra didn't respond. She wasn't wrong. He felt useless, like he was just dead weight dragging the group down. If he had been stronger, maybe Liora would still be alive.

Up ahead, Berethia glanced back at him, her eyes narrowing slightly. She slowed her pace until she was walking beside him. "Stop it," she said, her voice low.

"Stop what?" Changra asked, startled.

"Thinking you're to blame for this," Berethia said. "You're not."

Changra stared at her, surprised by the sharpness in her tone. "How do you know what I'm thinking?"

Berethia gave him a sidelong glance, her expression unreadable. "Because I've seen that look before."

Before Changra could ask what she meant, Merrick called out, "Stay alert. This corridor is narrowing. If we're ambushed here, we'll have nowhere to run."

The warning sent a ripple of tension through the group. Changra tightened his grip on the dagger, his heart pounding as they moved deeper into the labyrinth. The air was thick with unease, every creak and whisper of the stone walls setting them on edge.

And then, faint but unmistakable, came the sound of footsteps echoing in the distance.

Merrick held up a hand, signaling the group to stop. "Did everyone hear that?" he whispered.

They nodded, their breaths shallow as they strained to listen. The footsteps grew louder, uneven and shuffling, accompanied by a low, guttural growl.

Tessa's hand trembled as she drew her sword. "It's coming," she whispered.

Berethia's eyes narrowed, her lips pressing into a thin line. "Stay together," she said, her voice steady despite the tension in her posture. "Whatever it is, we face it as one."

Changra swallowed hard, his fingers tightening around the dagger's hilt. The faint hum of the blade began to grow, a low vibration that seemed to resonate with the tension in the air.

Whatever was coming, they weren't ready for it.

A single rabbit darted out from the darkness, its fur impossibly white against the bleak corridor. It hopped leisurely past them, its small nose twitching, entirely unaffected by the chaos around it. For a brief, surreal moment, the tension in the air seemed to ease.

"What the hell?" Changra murmured, staring at the rabbit as it disappeared down the hall.

"Maybe it's safe," Jane said weakly, though her voice lacked conviction.

But the momentary peace shattered as a low growl echoed through the corridor. The shadows seemed to pulse and part as a figure emerged from the darkness. Its eyes glowed crimson, piercing through the dim light like twin embers in the void. Its form was humanoid, but its movements were unnatural, jerky, and deliberate, like a predator toying with its prey.

The creature let out a bone-chilling snarl and moved with blinding speed. Before Changra could react, it was on him, slamming him to the ground with terrifying force. His breath was knocked from his lungs as the creature's weight pinned him, its glowing eyes staring directly into his own. Its clawed hand pressed against his throat, cutting off his air.

Changra struggled, gasping for breath, his hand scrambling for the dagger that had been knocked loose in the scuffle. The creature's grip was unyielding, its strength far beyond anything he could have imagined.

"Changra!" Jane screamed, her voice breaking as she tried to rush forward, but Merrick held her back.

"Don't get near it!" Merrick growled, his sword drawn but hesitation clear in his stance. "That's no ordinary shadow. It's something worse."

Changra's vision blurred as he fought against the pressure on his neck. He could feel the Crimson Dagger thrumming nearby, its pull stronger than ever, but he couldn't reach it.

And then he noticed Berethia.

She wasn't moving. She stood a few paces away, her arms slack at her sides, her gaze locked on the creature. But there was no fear in her eyes. Instead, there was something else—admiration. Awe.

"Berethia!" Changra choked out, his voice barely audible. "Do something!"

But she didn't move. She tilted her head slightly, her lips parting as if she wanted to say something, but no words came. Her eyes flickered with a strange, almost reverent light as she stared at the creature pinning Changra.

It was Jane who broke the spell. "Berethia, snap out of it!" she shouted, her voice cutting through the tense air.

Berethia blinked and seemed to come back to herself. Her hands began to glow faintly with magic, but her hesitation was obvious. She stepped forward, her expression conflicted, as if torn between admiration for the creature and the need to protect Changra.

The creature let out a guttural growl, its grip on Changra tightening as it turned its glowing eyes toward Berethia, almost as if acknowledging her presence. For a split second, she met its gaze, and a strange, fleeting smile crossed her lips before she unleashed a bolt of magic directly at it.

The impact knocked the creature back just enough for Changra to scramble free, coughing and clutching his neck as he rolled away. Merrick seized the opportunity, stepping forward with his sword raised, ready to fight.

"Stay together!" Merrick barked, his voice firm. "This thing isn't going down easily."

Changra stumbled to his feet, his hand finally closing around the Crimson Dagger. The weapon thrummed violently in his grip, and he could feel its rage mirroring his own. He took a shaky breath, his eyes flicking to Berethia, who still seemed unnervingly composed.

"Berethia," Changra muttered, his voice hoarse. "What the hell was that?"

She didn't answer, her gaze fixed on the creature as it began to recover, its crimson eyes glowing brighter than ever. The faintest trace of a smirk lingered on her face before she raised her hands to prepare another spell.

Berethia fired a spell. But at Changra.