As the man scrambled with his weapon and lifted it to line another shot, he already felt it — his body moving sluggishly, like wet sand dragging at his limbs. [b]“No..!”[/b] he growled, gritting his teeth, trying to fight the nightmarish sleep by sheer will alone. Darkness took him far faster than he expected. He clenched his fists, shaking with fury, and just before slumping to the ground he cast one last look toward the huntress — a look sharp enough to cut, venomous and betrayed. [b]“H-how… c-could…”[/b] There was no more struggle. His body sprawled across the sidewalk, swallowed by moonlight as he slipped into the nightmares that Blood Magic promised. Now, only the two women remained — one standing over the other in quiet, intense questioning, and the other wrestling with a storm of her own making. What [i]had[/i] she done? Her whole life, Lyselle had been told, taught, trained, drilled: vampires were evil. And yet here she was, staring dumbstruck at the very woman she had just saved [i]from[/i] a hunter. [color=#9BA7C3][b]“I…”[/b][/color] Words failed her. Thoughts flickered across her face like frames of a film — confusion, worry, awe, doubt, and that same confusion again. Slowly, she lowered herself into a side-sitting position. Her eyes fixed onto the vampiress’ black-heeled boots, unable to meet her gaze, unable to process the enormity of what she’d done. [i]‘What have I done?’[/i] [i]‘What am I doing? Why? If… if I let her go, I’m betraying my order — the people who raised me. But… can I really bring myself to hunt her?’[/i] [i]‘Why does she [b]feel[/b] so real? Like everything before this was just some giant… circus act. Fuck… what am I going to do? Where am I going to go?’[/i] Lys lifted the back of her hand to her forehead as if checking for a fever. A sigh escaped her, shoulders falling, eyes shifting aside — ashamed, overwhelmed. [color=#9BA7C3][b]“He… must’ve… come looking for me when he realized I had left — looking for him,”[/b][/color] she managed. [color=#9BA7C3][b]“I–… I didn’t mean for… this… whatever… this is… gods…”[/b][/color] Her hand fell, fingers brushing the sigil. She broke it with a swipe, wiping away the symbols that kept it functioning. [color=#9BA7C3][b]“Might as well…”[/b][/color] She hesitated before the next words, throat tightening. [color=#9BA7C3][b]“… kill me… if you don’t, [i]they[/i] will…”[/b][/color] Her expression spoke what she could not: a whirl of fear, guilt, clarity, devastation. Betraying the very thing she had sworn to uphold — the thing her entire life had been built upon. A single woman had made her question everything. And she knew what awaited her if Delwyn ever woke and returned to the Vigil. There was no forgiveness for traitors. No second chances. Just death. All those smiles, all that praise — the admiration, the jealousy of her peers, the quiet pride of being someone special, the crushing weight of becoming a legend, the lonely rooftops at sunrise and sunset — all of it blew away like dust in a sandstorm. Gone in one night. She waited for her appointed death at the hands of the very creature she was trained to destroy… because the only alternative was a life on the run. And she couldn’t decide which fate was easier, or which she even wanted. She would never have a normal life. That was stolen from her the moment the Vigil adopted her — long before she even understood what “normal” meant. Not like the people she watched in daylight — going to work, laughing in groups, sharing coffee, having families, holding hands, speaking in simple, everyday conversations with infinite possibilities… Things she would never know.