When my skin is not my own and the heart is tainted, there is still one thing that will always belong to me. My soul! No more shall it weep in the darkest of nights but it shall become a beacon of light for all those who cannot see. I am a warrior...
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The untamed warrior's curls, soft as velvet yet wild as a storm, danced with the somber wind, swirling like the ends of a delicate shawl caught in the breeze. Each slow, deliberate step she took crackled with latent power, as if the earth itself sparked beneath her feet. Lalzari’s midnight-brown eyes shimmered with a ferocity, like a comet blazing through the atmosphere, aiming straight for destruction. She strode toward the leader, her presence pressing into the space between them, so close she could feel the heat radiating from him. Could she truly stand against The Makhulqat, the tribe whose blood ran dark with untouchable cruelty? How could an unknown maiden challenge such a force?
Her gaze locked on the leader's grotesque features, a mask of something no longer human. His skin resembled cracked stone, splintering like an earthquake had torn through him, exposing the glowing red flesh beneath. Flames flickered between the fissures, merging seamlessly with his pale blue hair, no, not hair, but an ethereal smoke, the color of the flame's core. He was born of fire, forged in it.
"The sins you sow…" Lalzari’s voice was barely more than a whisper, yet it cut through the air like steel slicing through silk. “They will always find you.”
(SLICE!)
"ARGHHHHH!" The leader’s scream ripped through the night as her heated emei piercer flashed like lightning, carving a clean line across his throat. He collapsed, a crumbling tower of ash and flame, disintegrating into the wind like a forgotten whisper. The moment his body hit the ground, both The Makhulqat and the three warriors knew there would be no return, no forgiveness.
(WOOSH!)
Ahmali leapt onto a weathered gravestone, her body a coiled spring before she launched forward, faster than an arrow in flight. Her nunchucks spun in a blur, the chains snapping out like hungry serpents, wrapping around one of the Makhulqat. The entity twisted and thrashed, but Ahmali's grip tightened, strangling the life from it with every deadly rotation.
Mareeb, agile as a shadow, danced between the chaos. He moved like smoke, slipping through the gaps of every attack aimed his way. His sword flashed in brief moments of opportunity, driving through flesh with cold efficiency. Each strike was a question answered only in silence.
Lalzari’s fist collided with another Makhulqat, the impact a thunderclap of bone and flesh. Her blow tore through the creature’s stomach, leaving a gaping, hollow wound. The man—a shadow of what he once was—fell to his knees, his voice trembling with fear. "Please… don’t…" His words were weak, faltering, but Lalzari didn’t let them reach her. She avoided his gaze as she shattered his nose with a brutal punch, blinding him in more ways than one.
Even as he lay there, blood pooling beneath him like spilled ink on cold stone, twitching and gasping, she didn’t stop. His fear was palpable, a sharp scent in the air that stung her senses. She could feel it crawl into her lungs, thick and suffocating. But there was no mercy in her tonight. Once he stopped moving, she stood over him for a brief second before walking away, leaving him to bleed out like a wound no one would tend to.
