Crimson Gift
The candles in Mona’s chamber burned low, their flames flickering wildly as if afraid.
She stood before the cracked mirror, breathing hard. Her reflection no longer shimmered gold. It pulsed — veins of black threaded through her skin, faintly glowing beneath the surface like dark lightning.
Her hands trembled. The blood magic still roared through her veins, singing with power and pain. Every heartbeat felt like fire. But behind the pain was something else — euphoria.
For the first time in her life, she felt limitless.
She tilted her head, studying her reflection. The woman staring back looked both divine and dangerous — eyes glowing crimson, a faint dark sigil etched across her throat like a crown.
She smiled. “Beautiful,” she whispered to herself.
The mirror whispered
