Heaven: A Maiden's Curse (Reader's POV) (One-shot)

20 - The Daughter Of Forge, Freya

I struggle to move, every part of my body screaming in pain, my muscles trembling as I try to rise. But it's no use—Hyacinth's attacks have broken me down, the curse gnawing at my flesh and bones. I can feel my heartbeat slowing, my limbs growing heavier with each passing second.

Hyacinth stands above us, her expression a mask of cruel amusement. Her laughter echoes through the chamber, mocking my every attempt to fight back. The air around her pulses with power, an unshakable force. She speaks, her voice like venom, knowing she has us cornered.

"You think you can stop me, human? Pathetic. You can't even touch me with that useless weapon of yours. You're nothing. Just a shadow of what I am. A little plaything in my game."

I feel her words sink into me like daggers, and my body trembles—not just from the curse but from her mocking tone. But I can hear Heaven's cries, distant but agonizing, and it fuels the fire in my chest. I can't let her win. I won’t.

But even as I try to summon strength, my limbs refuse to obey. I’m too weak. Too broken.

And then, the woman, the one I've relied on all this time, steps forward. She’s looking down at me, her face unreadable. She pulls out the vial we found in the abandoned church, the last one we had left. Her gaze softens, but only for a moment. She kneels beside me, her hand reaching for the vial.

"Here," she says softly, but her voice is tinged with a hint of hesitation. "Take it. You need it."

But I see something shift in her eyes. Something changes. Her hand closes around the vial again, and she pulls it back, her lips set in a tight line.

"No," she says, almost to herself. "You need it more than I do."

I try to protest, but the words die in my throat. I'm too far gone. She's the one who’s still strong, the one who can finish this.

"I’ll do it," she whispers, determination hardening her voice. "I have a plan. I have to end this."

She stands tall, her eyes never leaving Hyacinth as she begins to move. She runs towards her, making swift, calculated steps. I can barely see what she’s doing, but I can feel the air shift as she formulates a strategy in her mind. Hyacinth watches her, amusement dancing in her eyes as she sits back, confident that nothing can touch her.

The woman’s first move is swift—an attack, quick and precise—but it’s useless. Hyacinth just laughs, her voice dripping with scorn.

"You think you can stop me with that? How laughable," Hyacinth taunts.

The woman’s face hardens, but she doesn’t falter. She reaches into her coat, pulling out something. A small object, seemingly insignificant at first, but I can feel the weight of its potential.

Hyacinth watches her closely, and then, as if dismissing it, she sneers. "Go on, throw your little toy at me. It won’t do a thing."

With a swift motion, the woman throws the object at Hyacinth. I see it arc through the air—until it explodes in a blinding flash of light.

The blast is deafening. A surge of heat, followed by a cloud of smoke and debris. I feel the power of the explosion even from where I lie. My chest tightens, but through the smoke, I can see Hyacinth falter, her body writhing in pain. The blast was poison, I realize, something far stronger than I could have imagined.

Hyacinth hisses in pain, her expression flickering for a moment—her body burning from the poison, the damage clear. For the first time, I see her thrown off balance.

Hyacinth’s eyes narrow as she watches the woman, now standing tall, ready to strike again. Then, her lips curl into a sneer.

"That weapon..." Hyacinth murmurs, as if realizing something. Her eyes flicker with recognition, and I see the past flash in her mind. "You. You’re the daughter of that useless blacksmith, Forge, aren’t you?"

The woman stands taller, a quiet but dangerous pride in her gaze. She doesn’t answer right away, letting Hyacinth stew in her own realization. Then, slowly, she removes her hood, her silvery hair spilling out like liquid moonlight. Her eyes are cold, beautiful, and brave—nothing like what I expected.

“I am Freya,” she says, her voice steady and confident. “Daughter of Forge, the blacksmith you killed all those years ago.”

Hyacinth stares at her, disbelief and fury warring on her face. But Freya doesn’t flinch. She stands there, strong and unbroken.

And with that declaration, I know things are about to change. Hyacinth’s reign of terror is about to face its first real challenge.