Reborn Savage Kin

Aveline instinctively pulled her seat back—the gloom and heavy air surrounding her kin were impossible to ignore. The darkness clung to Eva like a second skin, cold and suffocating. She sat in silence, her presence so faint it was almost as if she didn’t exist at all. “Huh,” Aveline sighed, breaking the silence. “If you want my help, you’ll have to tell me your story.” But Eva didn’t respond. She remained motionless, silent. Aveline muttered a curse under her breath. That damn system just wouldn’t listen—dragging her out of bed in the dead of night to meet a kin who looked no different from the grim reaper. She glanced up at the timer floating above Eva’s head. Two days. That was all Eva had left before she disappeared from the physical realm and faced trial. “System, get me her info,” Aveline grumbled. Sorry, cannot access kin’s history. A flicker of surprise crossed her face. She turned to Eva, studying her again. “The system only blocks a kin’s info when it’s either confidential… or when the kin doesn’t permit it.” “Damn it,” she hissed under her breath. “I still have to talk to the damn grim reaper.” Her eyes narrowed as she studied the darkness around Eva, the way it pulsed, alive with secrets and sorrow. “You lived a horrible life without a shred of love. And you died a miserable death… still unloved,” Aveline said, watching for a reaction. Eva flinched—barely—but didn’t move. “Don’t you have any regrets?” Aveline pressed. “Don’t you want revenge? Isn’t there anything you want me to do?” Still, no words came. But then—Eva raised her head. Slowly. Deliberately. Their eyes met. And in that instant, Aveline saw it—a scene, a flickering memory that wasn’t hers, flashing through her mind like a bolt of lightning. Pain. Betrayal. Silence. She blinked hard, grounding herself, and looked back at Eva. “My world needs changing,” Eva murmured. Then the timer above her head froze. Aveline’s breath caught. And without another word, Eva disappeared—sinking silently into the abyss, swallowed by the shadows that had followed her in life… and now, in death.