𝑫𝒀𝑵𝑨𝑺𝑻𝒀 𝑶𝑭 𝑺𝑶𝑼𝑳𝑺 ⇢ Gojo Satoru

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐗𝐗𝐗𝐈𝐕 - 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐀 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐅𝐔𝐋 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

HELL IS EMPTY, AND ALL THE DEMONS ARE HERE. These were the thoughts currently running through Himari's brain, the words dashing through her mind as she tried to compose herself, the pain still clawing at her empty socket while the bundle of nerves pooled in her palm. The woman swallowed hard and, once she was upright once again and standing in a poodle of her own blood and gore, Himari pressed her lips into a thin line. The two women stared at one another, the silence stretching between them.

Hell was empty, and all the demons were here. Himari could see them dancing in Mikazuki's perfect sunset eyes, she could see their shadows glowing in her iris. There had always been ambition in her gaze, long before she turned into this pitiful and vengeance-driven creature. Mikazuki always wanted more, even when she was still hiding behind her brother's shadow, even when she was still being regarded as nothing but the spare. That spark, that unmistakable hunger for power had been living in those eyes for as long as Himari could remember, and yet, she had never been as frightened of it as she was now.

But it wasn't only fear that coiled in her insides, there was also a much stranger emotion, one that pulled at her intestines and made bile rise up her throat. There wasn't a word for it, not one that could completely encompass the emotions currently flashing on the woman's face. It was a mixture of terror with a pinch of shock, a dash of outrage and a bit of angst.

Himari held her granddaughter's gaze, half expecting the sorceress to back down and look away once she was faced with what she'd done, the golden blood still oozing from the eldest Kinzoku's socket. But Kinzoku Mikazuki did none of those things. Instead, she crossed her arms in front of her chest, skin brushing against the ruined remains of her black gown while she held on to Himari's gaze.

Himari's heart skipped a bit and, for a moment, the old woman was rendered speechless. Oh, how she wished to believe that this person standing in front of her was not the granddaughter she raised. But it was – Mikazuki was everything Asahi had hoped she would be, everything expected of a full blooded Kinzoku, everything a future clan head should be. She was ruthless, cruel and absolute. Like the sun, she burned bright – so damn bright she left nothing but charred corpses in her wake.

Himari had flown to close to the sun and now here she was, burning up and falling from her pedestal. No, she'd been pushed down, crushed under the undeniable weight of pure unadulterated power. That's what she saw in Mikazuki's golden eyes, an endless well of cursed energy that had the power to level an entire country if she wished so.

She truly was the strongest sorceress alive. Maybe the strongest sorcerer ever, period. Is this what Kogane imagined when she thought of her legacy? Is that what she dreamed of, all those years she spent by the side of the four-armed god?

Was Mikazuki her legacy?

"You're a vicious monster, Mikazuki." Himari called, all the fight gone from her words as she slipped back into her guarded self.

Her tone was eerily quiet, her words solemn as the moonlight filtered in through the skylight, the patch of light falling directly on top of the sorceress. Were it not for the blood spread across the white marble tiles and the specks of gold still stuck to Mikazuki's skin, she might have thought this was a sign of the divine. But they were sorcerers – shamans, gods in human form – which meant they knew the truth.

There are no gods here, darling. Just us. That's what Asahi had said that one time and, as Himari looked up at her granddaughter, taking in the blood and the golden aura surrounding her body like holly light, the woman wondered if maybe he had been right. The sorceress tipped her head back, brushing through her lifeless curls before she let out a dry laugh, the echo if it reverberating against the golden walls of the chapel.

"I am what you made me."

Himari buried her face in her hands, the weight of Mikazuki's words washing over her like a crashing wave. The woman closed her lids over the swollen remains of her eye, thoughts trickling through her mind. She thought of Mikazuki's childhood, the gruelling training she had to endure once Everlasting awakened. She thought of the strict upbringing, of the loveless family Asahi had created. She then thought of the exile and the ten years that followed – years during which Mikazuki was completely and utterly alone.

She was supposed to die.

That had been The Magistrate's plan all along. They couldn't kill her because of her status, they couldn't kill her because of the legends woven into her bloodline, but they tried anyway. Thirty-seven sorcerers against one. The odds were stacked against her. She still won.

Because despite everything everyone believed her to be, despite all of the assumptions that formed from the moment she came into the world, The Magistrate had overlooked one tiny detail that changed everything.

Mikazuki was a fucking Kinzoku.

She was still a special-grade sorceress, the best in the past hundreds of years. She was still a warrior, even when she was living within the comfortable confines of the gilded cage her father had built around her. Sometimes, Himari wondered who the cage was meant for. Were those metaphorical gilded bars created to protect Mikazuki from the world? Or were they a poor attempt at trying to protect the world from her?

Sometimes – on days like these – Himari didn't have to wonder. She knew.

Kinzoku Mikazuki was a menace, and when The Magistrate tried to kill her, she killed them instead. The young sorceress was supposed to die at the Kansai massacre, and when she didn't, she was supposed to die during her exile. They took everything from her – her Sight, her Cursed Energy... every possible tool she could use to defend herself with had been taken from her. Mikazuki was supposed to die. But she didn't, and now, here she was, passing divine judgement on all of them.

I am what you made me.

Yes, you are. And what a beautiful creation.