Seven Ways To The Abyss

DUEL OF FATE PART TWO

*Gasp!*

"I'm awake..."

The words tore through Elaina’s mind as she jolted into consciousness, gasping for air as she forced Sofia’s broken body upright. A surge of adrenaline rushed through her, followed by the chilling realization—Sofia was gone.

It was the only explanation for why she had complete control. The hollow absence of Sofia’s presence gnawed at her, leaving nothing but a black hole of rage in its wake. A rage so consuming, it threatened to burn her alive.

She should’ve felt free. She had wanted this—the body entirely to herself. Yet now, all she felt was a torrent of negative emotions. Grief. Anger. Desperation. Her best friend was gone, the only person she had to rely on in this cursed existence. And now, she had nothing left.

Except Damian.

Her eyes—blank, white, and seething with hatred—snapped to Damian, who loomed over her, an amused grin plastered on his face. He watched her collapse, struggling to stay upright, but not even bothering to end it. He was *toying* with her, enjoying the spectacle of her suffering.

“Pathetic,” he spat, kicking her leg with a disinterested sigh. “I expected more from the so-called cursed child.”

The smirk on his face. The casual way he dismissed her. It sent a wave of fury through Elaina so intense that she could barely contain it. But her body—no, their body—was failing her. Every inch of it screamed in agony. Her limbs, torn and bruised, felt as though they were filled with molten lead. Her head swam in a sea of pain, the taste of blood thick on her tongue.

She tried to lash out with her vines. Tried to move. But her vines, just like her body, were sluggish and weak. They twitched feebly, barely lifting off the ground. Her vision blurred, and every breath felt like a knife to the lungs.

Damian let out a low chuckle. He wasn’t trying to kill her. He didn’t *need* to. He was enjoying this—watching her die slowly, inch by inch. But Elaina wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of watching her fall without a fight.

In that moment, on the brink of death, her mind flooded with memories—*false* memories, or at least, that’s what she thought. Visions of an old woman, training her in a wide-open field. Vines shot from her back, metallic, deadly, and razor-sharp. Not the organic, plant-like vines she knew, but gleaming silver blades.

In these memories, she wasn’t weak. She was *unstoppable*. And yet... why did they feel so real?

The image flickered. She was back in the present, her vision narrowing as she glared up at Damian’s looming figure. He was watching her with an expression of twisted pleasure, waiting for her to put up a fight.

Her vines, though, refused to obey. They twitched again, weak and sluggish. She tried to lift them, but every motion sent jolts of pain through her body. One of her legs had already given out, a sickening snap indicating a broken bone. Blood poured from wounds all over her body—torn flesh, shattered limbs—and yet she forced herself to keep moving. Her left arm hung limp at her side, barely responsive, and her back was slick with blood, her body teetering on the brink of collapse.

She was dying.

But she couldn’t die here—not yet.

Damian watched her futile struggle with a sneer, clearly enjoying the torment she was going through. He danced around her vines, taunting her, his voice laced with condescension. “Come on, Elaina. You can do better than that.” He reached out to touch one of the sluggish vines, grinning as it barely reacted. “What happened to all that power? Did it disappear with Sofia?”

That was it. That was the final straw.

Something inside her snapped. A primal, all-consuming rage took over. Her vines jerked again, but this time... this time they began to move faster. The feeble tremble turned into a more powerful shake, as if the vines themselves were responding to her fury. They twitched, then whipped, then vibrated, moving faster and faster. Each pulse of anger sent them higher, stronger.

The transformation began.

The soft green hue of the vines darkened, shifting, changing into something new. Metallic. Gleaming. Deadly. They shrank, thinned, and sharpened into razor-sharp blades—just like in her memories.

Damian paused. He noticed the shift, but instead of backing away, his smirk grew. He *wanted* her to fight back. He wanted to push her to the edge, to see if she could make this interesting. “That’s more like it.”

Her vines lashed out, their speed increasing with every second. But it wasn’t enough. Not yet. They struck at him, but Damian dodged with ease, his own vines whipping through the air to parry her attacks. He danced around her, barely making an effort, avoiding each strike with a mocking laugh.

But the fight was getting harder for her. Each movement took a greater toll. The broken bones, torn muscles, and the blood loss were making her weaker by the second. Her vision swam, her body screaming in agony with every movement. She had never felt so close to death.

And yet, she kept fighting. She couldn’t stop.

Damian, amused by her struggle, lashed out with his own vines, striking her in the shoulder. The force of it sent her crashing to the ground, a jagged wound opening across her back. But she didn’t scream. She couldn’t. She was too far gone for that. She only gasped, her breath rattling in her chest.

But her vines didn’t stop.

They slashed at Damian, moving faster now—so fast that even he started to have trouble keeping up. The amusement began to fade from his eyes as her metallic vines slashed through his defenses, cutting through one of his own vines.

His grin faltered. He blinked in surprise, then examined the severed vine with a flicker of concern. For the first time, he realized that Elaina wasn’t just struggling—she was adapting. Evolving. And her power was real.

But instead of fear, his grin returned, wider and more manic. “Impressive,” he murmured, brushing the blood from a small cut on his cheek. “But not enough.”

His vines lashed out, faster, stronger. They slammed into Elaina, cutting deep into her side. Blood poured from the wound, her ribs cracking under the force of the blow. She stumbled, gasping, her vision fading to black.

But her vines were faster.

They slashed out, catching Damian off guard. First, a shallow cut on his arm. Then another on his leg. Then a deeper slash across his chest. He flinched, but it was too late—one of her metallic vines plunged into his stomach.

He staggered back, his eyes wide with shock. For a moment, there was silence.

And then, Damian began to clap.

“Well done,” he said, his voice dripping with mockery. “It seems I’ve underestimated you, Elaina or should I say Sofia?”

He pulled back, blood dripping from his wounds, but his grin remained. “I’ll catch up with you later. It seems I’ve lost my edge.” With a final, maniacal laugh, he turned and fled into the forest behind the bridge.

Elaina collapsed, her body crumpling to the ground. The vines—her vines—began to soften, losing their metallic sheen. They became squishy, like melted blades, twisted and broken, just like her body. She could feel herself slipping away, her strength finally leaving her.

The world grew colder, the edges of her vision darkening.

“In my next life...” her thoughts were faint, scattered. “I still want to be with Sofia... she’s all I have.”

And with that final thought, Elaina, the Jagreel, let go.