After Nero saved her from death and turned her into practically a deity, Singla didn't think much, for what boiled inside her was fury. She felt the injustice swirling in her core like a devouring energy.
Nero's arrival was something very significant for Singla, so what inhabited her heart was revenge, and she would spare no effort to torment those who wanted her dead for a crime she did not commit.
In the forest. Under the pale light of the moon, Singla walked with light steps, almost floating. Her claws, sharp as talons, reflected the silver gleam of the moonlight. The wind carried the scent of pine and something sweeter—the fear.
The village was asleep, but she could feel the warmth of human lives in every wooden cabin. She closed her eyes for a moment, letting her newly acquired senses guide her steps. Hunger burned in her chest, but she controlled it. It was not yet time to feed. Her hair, as white as snow, danced to the rhythm of the soft wind blowing.
“Do you remember them, my dear?” Nero's voice sounded in her mind, deep and melodic.
She stopped, her hand caressing the trunk of an old tree.
“Every face. Every word.” Her voice was a cold whisper. “They threw me here like garbage.”
Nero laughed, a deep sound that made the leaves around them tremble.
“And now, look at what you are. A gift, a power. Show them what they created.”
Singla smiled, her lips tinged with scorn. The memory of the village elder burned in her mind. The accusing gaze, the finger pointing. He would be the first.
She slid through the village like a shadow. No one heard her steps. Her claws traced soft lines on the wooden doors, just to feel the texture.
Inside a larger cabin, the light of a lantern flickered. The elder was alone, murmuring words of a prayer. Singla watched him through a gap in the window, her tongue slowly passing over her lips.
She entered. There was no creak in the door, just the subtle shift of the air.
“Who’s there?” The elder’s voice was trembling, but firm.
Singla didn’t answer. She walked around him, her feet making no sound. She positioned herself behind the old man, so close she could feel the warmth of his body.
“Do you remember me?” Her voice was a whisper in his ear, seductive and deadly.
The elder spun around with a jump, his eyes wide. He fell backward, tripping over the bench he had been sitting on.
“Witch!” he shouted, pointing a wrinkled finger at her.
Singla laughed, a musical and cruel sound.
“Witch? No. Power. You gave me this, remember? When you abandoned me.”
He tried to stand, but his knees buckled.
“Mercy, child…”
“Mercy?” Singla leaned toward him, her eyes glowing like embers. “Where was your mercy when you threw me to the wolves?”
The old man tried to recite a prayer, but the words failed him. Singla extended her hand, lightly touching his face.
“Do you feel it?” she asked, as the elder trembled. “It’s fear. So sweet…”
She felt his life drain through her fingers, a warm and satisfying flow. He collapsed, his eyes glazed and lifeless.
"It didn’t take long." Nero appeared at the door, his tall figure shrouded in shadows. “I expected more resistance.”
“He was weak. Like all of them.”
“But there are others.” Nero smiled. His teeth were like blades. “They’re waiting for you, even if they don’t know it.”
Singla wiped her fingers on the elder’s tunic and stood up, facing Nero.
“I want them to know. I want them to feel the terror approaching,” Singla said.
He nodded.
“Then let’s play, my dear. Let’s make them dream of monsters before you devour them.”
Singla smiled, her eyes glowing with fury.
She left the cabin, but not silently this time. A scream pierced the village, a mix of pain and despair. She knew the other villagers would wake up. And that’s exactly what she wanted.
The doors opened, confused faces peering out. Women clutched their children. Men grabbed torches and tools.
“What’s happening?” someone shouted.
Singla was in the center of the village now, her black dress like the night swaying in the wind.
“Don’t recognize me?” her voice sounded, sweet and poisonous.
The villagers stared at her, terror growing like a wave.
“Singla?” A woman stepped forward, her eyes filled with disbelief. “You... you should be dead.”
Singla laughed, tilting her head in a nearly childish manner.
“Dead? No, my dear. I was reborn.”
The villagers began to retreat.
“Don’t worry,” she continued. “I won’t hurt all of you. Just those who deserve it.”
She raised a hand, and with a gesture, made one of the torches explode in flames.
The chaos began. Screams, running, the sound of doors being locked. Singla remained in the center, watching with a satisfied smile.
“Are you having fun?” Nero asked, appearing at her side.
“Not yet. But it’s getting interesting.”
From one of the cabins, a man came running with an axe in his hands. He glared at her with hatred, sweat gleaming on his forehead.
“You don’t belong here anymore, demon!”
Singla watched him calmly as he approached. When he raised the axe, she moved with supernatural speed. In the blink of an eye, she was behind him.
“You have courage,” she murmured, her lips almost touching his ear.
The man tried to turn around, but it was too late. Singla dug her claws into his chest, pulling the life energy out like a thread. He fell dead, his face frozen in a silent scream.
The remaining villagers watched from a distance, too terrified to approach.
“Run,” Singla said, staring at them. “Tell the world what you saw me here.”
She knew this wasn’t just revenge. It was a message. The world needed to know she existed.
“Are you ready for the next step?” Nero asked, as she watched the flames spread through the village.
“Yes. Let the world fear me.”
Singla avenged all who deserved her vengeance, and something very important happened afterward.
She became Nero’s servant, and a servant who served him in every imaginable way.
...
“What did you do with our memories?” Ashlem asked.
“Nero is the one who did it, not me. I just completed his plan,” Singla said.
“What plan?” Tony asked.
“To absorb your energy.”
“If that’s the case, then this doesn’t make any fucking sense, because what I saw was you sucking the life out of me,” Ashlem said angrily, as he didn’t believe the words that made no sense to him.
He grabbed a knife, about to stab it into Singla’s leg, but Tony calmed him with simple words.
“Calm down, Oyer! It’s not time for that yet.” Tony turned to Singla’s face. “Don’t you want to tell us the truth? Did you know Ashlem killed Nero?” He turned and went to the folder, taking out a flask labeled Liquigostoy.
“I saw, damn it!” she said, irritated.
“Do you want the same fate, I mean, worse?”
“I’ll tell the truth then,” she hastily said.
To be continued...