The Deadly Grimoire

The world had always feared power it could not control. And for as long as she could remember, power had feared her just as much.

She hadn't asked for this, this curse disguised as magic, this nightmare woven into her very soul. A single word from her grimoire, and lives would be snuffed out like candle flames in the wind. No second chances. Just death. Instant and absolute.

She had never meant to use it on him.

The memory burned behind her eyes. Her brother, standing before her, hands reaching out, not in anger, but in love, in desperation. She didn't know what were the consequences of using her real power. And then, nothing.

She hadn't screamed when his body hit the ground. Hadn't wept when the weight of her sin crushed her beneath it. But when the town bell tolled, when her parents stood before her with cold, hollow eyes and cast their verdict, she had felt something shatter inside her.

Exile.

Stripped of her name, her home, the only love she had ever known, she wandered. No one would shelter a girl who killed with a whisper. No one dared to speak her name unless it was in fear or hate. She had become a ghost, a walking curse, a thing to be avoided.

Then he found her.

A man who smelled like cigarettes and steel, who carried himself like he owned the world and didn't give a damn what anyone thought. He looked at her, and she waited for the fear, the rejection.

But Yami Sukehiro only grinned.

"You kill everything you fight, huh?" he said, voice rough like gravel and steady like the earth. He leaned on his sword, eyes sharp but lazy, like nothing in the world could shake him. "Sounds like a pain in the ass, but hey, every squad needs a problem young woman."

She had forgotten what warmth felt like until that moment.

And so, for the first time since losing everything, she took a step forward. Not toward redemption. Not toward forgiveness. But toward a place where she could exist, as she was.

Liria, the first member of the Black Bulls.