I opened my eyes, and a thin sliver of light pierced through the darkness, striking my vision like a distant beacon. My head throbbed, and for a moment, the world around me felt weightless, as though I were floating between dreams and reality. The light flickered, hazy and unfocused, barely strong enough to cut through the dense void surrounding me.
"Where am I?" I whispered, my voice barely audible against the vast emptiness.
The air was thick, suffocating, carrying a scent of damp earth and something metallic—blood, perhaps. I remained standing at the dark and empty edge of this unknown place, my gaze locked onto the only source of illumination. It pulsed gently, almost rhythmically, as if it were breathing.
Then, a voice called out.
"Tabitha!"
I spun around, my breath hitching. The voice was familiar, yet unplaceable. It carried an eerie softness, like a whisper carried by the wind, shifting between the innocence of a child and the wisdom of an ancient soul. It held an unnatural calmness, as though the speaker already knew something I didn’t. The words echoed, stretching and fading, wrapping around me like an unseen presence.
"Who are you?!" I groaned, clenching my fists, my body tensing instinctively. "Show yourself!"
A pause. Then, the voice responded, laced with an unsettling certainty.
"Don't you really know me, Tabitha? Or remember my voice?"
"How am I supposed to know?! You won’t even show yourself to me!"
"Perhaps this isn't the right time for you to meet me."
And just like that, the darkness peeled away.
Before I knew it, I was standing in the middle of the same meadow. The scent of damp grass filled my lungs, and the wind carried the distant hum of rustling leaves. The sky was a deep shade of violet, neither day nor night, with stars blinking like watching eyes. The world felt… displaced. Like a dream teetering on the edge of something real.
"I ain't your enemy, Tabitha."
The voice faded, dissolving into the whispering wind. A wave of frustration surged through me as I exhaled sharply.
"What the hell is happening?" I hissed, running a hand through my hair. "What is this place?!"
I looked around, my pulse still racing from the disembodied voice. The meadow stretched far and wide, bathed in a silvery luminescence. The grass, soft and swaying, felt eerily alive beneath my feet, whispering secrets to the wind. The air carried a mix of floral sweetness and something older—like aged parchment and burning incense.
Then, my gaze locked onto it—the same old cabin I had seen before.
The wooden structure stood at the edge of the meadow, its walls weathered and cracked, as if time had forgotten it. Vines crawled up its sides, and the faint glow of candlelight flickered through the dusty windows. The sorcerer’s book… it had to be inside.
Without hesitation, I ran toward it, my footsteps muffled by the thick grass. The heavy wooden door groaned as I pushed it open, revealing a dimly lit room. The scent of old books and melted wax hung in the air, and the wooden floor creaked beneath my weight.
Then, I froze.
A boy sat at the center of the room, hunched over a long wooden table. The candlelight cast shadows over his form, and though his figure was sharp, his face—his face was like static. Blurred, shifting, unreadable. My heart pounded against my ribs.
Who…?
He turned a page of the book he was reading, his movements slow and deliberate. The book. The book. The one I needed.
"Who are you?" His voice was calm, eerily steady, as if he had been expecting me all along.
I swallowed hard, forcing myself to straighten up. "I—uh—I was looking for something," I lied, trying to keep my voice level.
He tilted his head slightly, then nodded, uninterested. "I'm sorry, but I think that something isn’t here," he said simply, his attention drifting back to the ancient text. "You can leave now."
I grimaced, folding my arms. "Can’t I stay for a while?" I asked, feigning innocence.
He sighed, flipping another page without looking at me. "My friend is coming soon. She won’t like it if she sees another girl hanging around me."
I scoffed, rolling my eyes. "I’m so not here to hang out with you, brother."
"You won’t like it when she gets mad," he added, his tone indifferent yet laced with something cryptic.
I clenched my jaw. If he had the sorcerer’s book, stealing it wouldn’t be easy. He wasn’t just some random kid. There was something off about him—something beyond human. A god? A demigod? A sorcerer? I couldn’t tell, but I wasn’t about to test my luck.
With a defeated sigh, I stepped out, pulling the door shut behind me.
I wasn’t leaving without that book.
I had barely taken a step when I felt eyes on me. A chill crept up my spine. Slowly, I turned.
A girl stood just a few feet away. She was the same age as the boy—yet her face, like his, was impossible to see. Her presence felt heavy, almost suffocating.
She was staring right at me.
"Tabitha."
I stiffened. The way she said my name—it wasn’t just a call. It was a command.
"Wake up!" she urged, her voice rising. "You have to wake up! You have to stay alive. You have to save your mother. You have to save him."
Her words tumbled out in an urgent chant, like a prophecy being recited in desperation. My breath hitched as a sudden dizziness washed over me.
"Tabitha!"
"Tabitha!"
"Tabitha!"
---
A gasp tore from my throat as I bolted upright, chest heaving. My vision swam, the dream melting away like fog.
No. Not a dream.
I was inside a cell.
The cold, damp walls pressed in around me, the air thick with the scent of rust and something acrid. My heart pounded against my ribs as I scanned my surroundings. Steel bars lined the front of my enclosure, glowing faintly with etched runes—wards, I realized. A seal had been cast. If I so much as touched them, I might be struck down where I stood.
"Why the hell am I here?!" I groaned, pushing myself to my feet.
I took a cautious step forward, stopping just before the enchanted bars. I wasn’t stupid.
"AIDEN!" I roared, my voice echoing down the corridor. "SHOW YOURSELF, YOU OLD GEEZER!"
A soft chuckle answered me.
My blood ran cold.
"He's not here."
A dark mist coiled outside the cell, swirling like ink in water. My throat tightened as the smoke began to shift, solidify—until a figure emerged.
A man. No. Not a man.
A devil.
He stood tall, his presence exuding a chilling authority. His eyes gleamed with an unnatural light, his smile sharp and knowing.
"It’s been ages… little sister," he drawled.
My fists clenched. "What are you doing here, Anthony?"
His smirk deepened. "Really now? You haven’t visited me in decades, and that’s how you greet me?"
I felt my nails dig into my palms. "After you killed Father, you expect me to be nice to you?"
"Whoa. Chill," he said, raising a hand. "I was only doing my job." His grin widened. "I am the god of war, after all. A general, to be exact. And Father? He was just a human knight. When we fought, I had to finish him before he could finish me and my men. You know how strong he was… for a human."
My vision blurred with rage. I moved instinctively, reaching for the bars—
"Ah-ah," Anthony tsked, shaking his head. "I wouldn’t do that if I were you. Aiden’s seal? Very deadly. It’ll kill you before you can even think of breaking free."
I froze, my breath shuddering.
Reality settled in.
I was in the pits of Sheol.
Anthony tilted his head, watching me with amusement. "After you killed Genesis and one of her descendants—Lisa, right?—in the Demon Realm with a single blow, they had no choice but to seal you away. You’re lucky, actually. Jennie and Tyler would have met the same fate if Aiden and Adonis hadn’t stopped you."
My chest tightened. "Is Tyler okay?"
Anthony sighed. "He’s a descendant, Tabitha. Your tamed descendant. He’ll regenerate. But you almost killed him back there. What the hell were you thinking?"
I swallowed hard, my hands trembling. "I don’t know," I admitted. "This mark…" I pulled my collar down slightly, revealing the dark, twisting curse seared into my skin. "It’s like… something’s controlling me. Whenever I see blood—smell blood—I hear this voice. It tells me to kill. And I can’t stop it."
Anthony’s smirk faded.
"You still don’t remember what kind of demigod you are, do you?" His voice was quieter now, unreadable.
I narrowed my eyes. "I know what I am. A goddess of mayhem, chaos, confusion—"
"That’s not all," Anthony interrupted. His expression darkened. "You’re Discordia, Tabitha. The goddess of hatred and strife."
A flick of his hand, and an image appeared—shifting, monstrous, wrapped in shadows.
"You," he said, voice grave, "are the last descendant of Chaos himself."
The air seemed to vanish from my lungs.
No. That… That can’t be true.
But the way he looked at me—the way the darkness curled around the edges of my vision—
Somewhere, deep inside, I already knew.
It was true.
And Chaos… had never really left me.