Some nights… darkness is not born from the absence of light,
but from a heart that chooses to extinguish itself.
This was not a night of return.
Nor a night of revenge.
It was the birth of something that no longer belonged to humanity.
When footsteps walk back toward the past,
they either reclaim it…
or burn it to its final ash.
And on that night,
the Kingdom of Lialis did not await the return of its daughter…
It awaited the Vessel of Souls.
Chapter Eight: Vessel of Souls
The road to the Kingdom of Lialis felt longer than it should have been…
Or perhaps it was the night itself stretching around them like a black shroud.
Alfiran and Alindra walked in heavy silence, the air thick with suffocating dampness, as if nature itself knew that nothing would remain the same after this night.
Alindra spoke softly:
— Where are we heading now, Alfiran?
She answered without turning:
— Let us go to my home… I must begin with my family.
Alindra stopped for a step.
— But… they are your family too.
A moment of silence.
Just a moment.
Then she said, with a coldness like stone:
— They are corrupt. And this world must be cleansed of them… even if they are my family.
There was no anger in her voice.
There was certainty.
Halfway along the road, she saw something red glowing within the darkness.
A red lily.
She approached it slowly, like someone nearing an old memory.
She bent down… plucked it… and lifted it to her nose.
She inhaled its scent.
Closed her eyes.
— I have been searching for you for years…
She placed it upon her black cloak, and it looked like a drop of blood resting upon endless night.
They continued walking.
When they neared the palace, the night had swallowed the entire kingdom.
The windows were dark.
The doors silent.
Even the wind seemed to walk on its toes.
They waited until everyone was deep in sleep.
Then Alfiran stepped toward the door.
She raised her hand.
— Dan… Dan… Dan…
Then she said in a low, mocking voice:
— Knock… knock… you corrupt swine. Open the door.
One of the maids opened it.
She gasped.
— Lady Alfiran… are you alive?
Alfiran did not answer.
She pushed her aside and entered.
Alindra followed behind her, her heart pounding with something she did not understand.
Her father sat on the couch, reading a book.
He lifted his eyes.
They widened.
The book fell from his hand.
— My dear Alfiran… you are alive?
He stood quickly…
Moved to embrace her.
Behind his back, he concealed a dagger.
She saw the metallic glint before the blade moved.
She smiled.
She grabbed his wrist before he could strike.
— Your role is over, you corrupt man.
She seized his throat.
In that moment…
Black flowers began blooming around her feet.
Their petals trembled as if breathing.
She spoke calmly:
— My flowers thirst for souls.
His body began to wither.
His face paled.
His veins darkened.
He tried to speak…
But his voice turned into dead air.
Gradually, he shriveled into a dry shell…
Then collapsed onto the ground.
A corpse.
She did not feel the warmth of his blood on her hands.
And for the first time… she realized she felt nothing.
Her mother watched the scene with widened eyes.
Alfiran approached her.
— Alfiran… my dear… I am your mother… do you not remember how I cared for you and loved you?
She paused.
Tried to remember.
A face.
A voice.
A touch.
All fog.
She slowly removed her mask.
A terrifying smile formed on her face.
She pointed to her eye.
— Yes… you loved me. And from the depth of your love, you left me a souvenir… but I will keep this souvenir… and send you to hell.
She seized her mother's throat.
The flowers did not hunger less.
They absorbed her soul slowly.
She threw the body aside like something empty.
In the corner, her sisters trembled.
She looked at them.
For a moment…
An old image surfaced.
The courtyard behind the palace.
Her small knee bleeding.
Their loud laughter.
One of them saying: "She's weak… she won't tell anyone."
The present returned.
She stepped closer.
— My sisters… you must follow mother and father.
They screamed:
— Alfiran! We did nothing to you! We loved you!
She looked at them coldly.
— Yes… you used to play with me.
She grabbed two of them.
Hysterical screams tore through the night.
The flowers bloomed wider.
Then she turned to the last one.
She was crawling.
— Please, Alfiran… I did nothing… please spare my life!
She lifted her by the throat.
— My flowers need your soul to bloom.
Then she whispered:
— Quench your thirst, my flowers.
Her soul was taken.
She fell.
Alfiran looked around.
— The fires of my hell have opened… and they will not close until you become ashes.
At that moment…
A black mark appeared upon her chest.
Her feet began to grow numb.
She tried to move her toes…
No sensation.
No pain.
Only emptiness.
A phantom appeared before her.
Narifala.
— Did I not tell you… power carries a heavy price?
Alfiran remained silent for a moment.
Then she said quietly:
— Now I understand what you meant, Narifala.
She walked up to her room.
Alindra followed, afraid.
At this moment… this was not the Alfiran she knew.
She entered her chamber.
Sat before the piano.
Placed her fingers on the keys.
She did not feel their coldness.
Did not feel their texture.
She began to play.
A terrifying melody.
The notes were not merely music…
They were the moaning of souls.
They were the Symphony of Salvation.
And somewhere…
Something inside her…
Began to crack.
She sat before the piano.
The same fingers that had stolen souls moments ago
rested upon the black and white keys.
Outside… the night was still.
But inside her chest,
the souls were stirring.
Whispers.
Moans.
A noise only she could hear.
She closed her eyes.
And for the first time since the massacre began…
she smiled softly.
Not a smile of revenge.
But a smile of completion.
Her fingers lifted slightly…
Then fell upon the keys.
And with the first note…
it was not a melody that began.
It was something else.