I sat in my seat at the little café I'd taken a liking to, sipping my coffee, the place was empty now, and I liked it that way. I didn't need the caffeine, on top of my immortality I'd developed a near immunity to the stuff centuries ago. Still, it was nice to feign normalcy, and the coffee was pretty good. As I put my cup of coffee down, a server came by, giving me a smile.

"Hello, how are you? Enjoying yourself?"

"Yes, thank you, the service here is impeccable," I replied, smiling in return.

Then, a lot of things happened at once. My server tensed, and a moment later, I reacted, jumping out of the way of their knife. In the next moment, they recovered, leveling their knife on me as they glared at me.

"I knew it was you, when great-grandfather learns that I was the one who finally killed you, I'll go down as a family legend!"

"Oh my god, you people are still around?" I exclaimed exasperatedly, "and you've gotten bolder somehow. You can't hope that this will end well, this place has security cameras you know?"

"I'll cross that bridge when I get to it, now have at you!"

I dodged out of the way again, they were good, but I'd had over a millennia of practice, and they really couldn't compare. They took a stab at my heart and I disarmed them in a single motion, holding the knife to their throat I asked them a question I hadn't had the opportunity to in a long time.

"Okay, why are you people still after me? It's been over 7 centuries!"

"You killed my great-great-great grandfather James!"

"He tried to poison me!"

"Well, before that you killed my 6 times great grandfather Oliver!"

"Tried to throw me off of a cliff!"

"Alice The Dauntless!"

"Stabbed me with a rapier!"

"Duncan of Cumbria?"

"Dropped an anvil on me."

"Seriously? Like a Wile E Coyote sketch?"

"Oh it is like that I never realized that."

"Has every ancestor of mine you've killed tried to kill you first?"

"More or less."

"That... wait no! Why should I trust you? For all I know you're lying!"

"Why would I lie? I could kill you right now if I wanted to like, mess with you or your family."

"That uh... I mean that makes sense honestly."

"Yes it does, now, I ask you again, why do you want me dead?"

"I... I honestly don't know."

"That makes two of us," I said, bringing the knife away from their throat.

"Wait! You don't know either?!" My assailant questioned as they rubbed their neck.

"No I don't, the first one of you weirdos who jumped me back in 1271 was already screaming about a generation-spanning feud."

The two of us stood there for a moment, both of us considering what this meant.

"So... sorry for trying to kill you," they said, awkwardly scratching the back of their head.

"Apology accepted, now I'm going to go back and scramble the cameras so you don't get arrested."

"That's... that's very kind of you, also you know how to work a security system?"

"You learn a lot of skills when you're immortal, passes the time."

"Yeah, see you later?"

"Guess so."

^(Placed summary below, in my reply to a reply, if you don't feel like reading all that.)

°°°°°°°°°°

The dagger clattered onto the floor.

"Say, could you remind me about why you're all trying to kill me again? Sort of forgot."

Her struggling halted as I held her forearm in my grasp. Her already racing heartbeat increased in cadence. Had I said something offensive? Her gaze lowered to where I could no longer see her eyes due to the overhang of her light brown hair obscuring them.

"After the hundreds of years it took to discover your hiding spot, I have to say that you truly are as evil as Grandfather described you. Do our lives really mean that little you to you? Do you truly see us as nothing more than cattle, you wretched parasite?"

"... Look, I don't really know or care about whatever your prattling on about. I just asked a reasonably simple question. All I wish to do is live in peace and that is proving to be difficult with you people constantly showing up for the past few days to try to kill me. The least you can do is explain why."

"Live in peace? You've killed millions of us each day since time immemorial. My family has sworn their lives to eradicate you and your kind for generations and now you are saying that you forgot!? "

"..."

My head tilted in confusion. I had no idea what this lady was talking about. I haven't killed anyone in a long time, save for past few days. Though I'd say those were justified, after all I was only defending myself.

"Hey lady, your friends over there wouldn't be dead had they not tried to kill me. You all attacked me, not the other way around. If you would just explain yourself then maybe we could simply talk things through. No one deserves to die."

This caused her to once more to meet my gaze. Her eyes analyzed my face as if she was searching for something. The scowl she wore before slowly morphed to be more akin to disgust then, pity, then finally amusement. She burst into laughter.

"Oh I understand now. Y-you poor pathetic thing, [laughs] you're being sincere aren't you!? Your evil has become so second nature to you that you aren't even aware of it anymore, are you? Tell me, is it confabulation or is it delusion [laughs]!? H-have you been hiding amongst our kind for so long that you believe you're human now!? Or were you so unable to live with your sins and transgressions against humanity that you repressed your memory or fed yourself lies!?"

She wiped tears from her eyes, had she gone mental? Her heart was calm when her smile faded and her face grew calm.

"Though it matters not. You wish to know why we will never stop hunting you? Why you'll never live in peace? I will remind you you blood craving devil among devils with the satisfaction of shattering this illusion you have casted upon yourself! Do you remember what this does?" She asked, pulling a small device from her pocket and stabbed it into her forearm which I still held. I was clueless as to why she'd stab herself with a fancy looking dart and inflict self harm.

Blood craving? That bothered me more than it should. What was she talking about, I don't crave blood, plus that sounds utterly disgusting. I much more perfe- ... wait, ... what ... did I eat again? I honestly cannot remember what the last time I had a mea-

#💥

An explosion occured between us. I still remained in my original position while she had flown back. Through the settling debris stood the lady using her free hand to clutch the nub that was once her forearm. The explosion had instantly cauterized it. She glared at me as she breathed heavily.

drip

I looked down to my arm. It too was now a nub. Unlike the lady's, mines had been farther from the explosions focal point. It had not be cauterized and still bled. Squirted even.

drip

We stood still for a while as the dust still settle. It seemed so surreal looking at the empty space where my arm use to be spouting blood like a water gun. I began to feel woozy. This would kill me, wouldn't it?

drip

There had to be some way to prevent this ... I-I've had an injury like this before haven't I? How did I do it last time again? My body involuntarily took a step backwards to prevent myself from falling. I looked around for something, anything, until my ears focused on the one constant sound they'd always heard.

Ba-dump

My eyes focused the chest of the lady who still hadn't moved. They focused on what lie underneath the flesh. The fruit that beat and pulsated and filled her body with life ... oh that's right ... I remember now. It's been a long time hasn't it?

All fifteen of them laid bonded in carbon nanotube chains, utterly bound to the diamond carbon nanotube wall, suspended 400 feet above the underground floor to deter escape attempts.

Thankfully, telekinesis allowed me to fly. Giving me the luxury of staring at them in the eyes.

And yet. No answers...

"So...out of the entire extended family here, not one of you can point out the original ancestor. In fact, you do not even know why you all have been hunting me for..."

The Great Wall...

Temujin...

The Islamic Conquests...

Restitutor Orbis...

Augustus...

Alexander...

Ramses...

Khufu...

"Gobleki Tepe..."

15 sets of eyes blinked at me.

"Err. Maybe not that far..." one of them, an olive skinned male, said.

"Wait...Khufu?"

"THE PYRAMIDS ARE OUR INHERITANCE!!!" they attacked my ears in unison.

"So. What can I have done 4,700 years ago that still offends you today? You know what, I think 47 centuries of assaults and harassment and murder attempts make up for it. But!" And I gave a good pause. "You clearly disagree. So now is the chance that your ancestors would had loved to had. Scream at me." They stared back blankly. "Well now, don't be shy now of all times. Speak up."

They stared blankly.

"Let me tell you what your ancestors efforts gave me. The 'justice'."

"Ahem. 2540 BCE, the first attempt. My wife at the time, and 7th overall chronologically, died of miscarriage after the stress of seeing me get an arrow through my knee."

They shifted nervously.

"Before you ask me what I did in retaliation... nothing. A lion ate the fool three years later. I would had personally impaled him on a burning pike, but death by hungry lion is an alright second I guess."

"But before I continue this list... none of you have yet to tell me what I have done to deserve this."

One of them, a 33 year old woman by the looks of her, moved to speak.

I immediately flew over and faced her eye to eye, not four feet apart.

"Well? Speak your piece," I said as my arm outreached, offering my open right palm towards her.

"According to the legends..." She began.

"According to the legends, as in... you are uncertain if it is even true. Correct me if I am wrong."

"I, uhm."

"My apologies. How rude of me. Please continue," I responded, forcing as much pleasantries into my voice as I can.

"You apparently killed Khufu in a blood sacrifice to gain your immortality," she told me.

I blinked.

"That would be a good reason indeed. However there three major flaws to this theory," I whispered.

"First off, Khufu was mummified, so any sort of that would had made it into the historical record, as they would had noticed the ritual stabbing marks while preparing him, no matter how well I may have hid the wounds."

"Second off, may I add that I was around 6000 years old around this time? And before you say I am lying, I believe all of you know enough magic to perform Deceit Detection. Which you know, is infallible."

"And the third reason?" Another, some Slavic looking girl, asked.

She's not above twenty is she? Abit too young to risk death...

"Assuming you reason blood for blood, may I add that over the course of the past 4700 centuries, your bloodline wiped out my entire progeny. Six. Separate. Times?"

I began laughing as I cried.

"Six. Separate. Times. Hell in the most recent one four hundred years ago, you literally stabbed my infant son in his pregnant mothers' arms! Hell, and then she died in childbirth while I was too busy fighting off you zealots."

They remained silent. Some turned away.

"Now let me answer something your ancestors died asking me. How is magic exactly discovered and used? Well, you are born with it."

They blinked back.

"Well, you can circumvent this requirement by either consuming the blood of a magic user, and do this enough times you get it permanently. Albeit inferior to the person who's blood you drunk. Or, you can use genetic modification."

"So...they are not witches?"

It was my turn to blink.

"I have a question. Why is it 'witchcraft and heresy' for others to use magic, but for you and your allies it is 'miraculous and holy intervention'?" I asked.

"Well, ours is safe," some man spoke out.

"Well of course it is, your ancestors stole the knowledge from me. As proof..." and I tossed him a 10000 year old book, with its pages flipping just fast enough for him to finish reading.

"Any other counter-arguments? Anyways back to discussion. Magic, in essence, is the next step of evolution. As we gained sapient thought, eventually our ancestors gained souls, and with it, Soul Energy. Immortality. The power of reincarnation and resurrection."

"So our priesthood..."

"Singlehandedly held back humanity by..."

75,850 years came up in a screen behind me I had come down.

"Do not worry, that is nowhere close to the Catholic Church!" I jovially responded.

435,250 years

"Who would had fucking thought killing all magic capable people on sight would have ZERO repurcussions! And to think back in my day Jesus Christ would had been considered normal. At least the Brahmin weren't as stupid. If only they did not self-destruct," I explained.

"How did the Brahmin self-destruct?" some eighteen year old boy asked.

Son of this, daughter of that... It's been so long I don't really care, these people just don't give up, I've known every single one of their line but I just can't bring myself to care.

Each day it's a poisoned drink, I actually like the almond flavor of cyanide, I try to go for a walk and a couple of arrows pierce my cloak, my tailor must love me, I don't know what I did to these people but they keep yelling "YOU WILL NOT BE FORGIVEN!" as if I knew what happened to them.

Maybe it was an accident, I've had countless over my eternal life, maybe I was rude, maybe they just decided to stalk me and start pestering out of a sudden.

All I know it's that these people just won't quit, and it's honestly quite admirable, I've never had anyone hate me or even remember me for this long, I think I'm starting to like this; being remembered that is.

After the first few attempts I began digging.

At first it was just me. I hired people from different parts of the world and waited patiently for the answers. Answers that I felt were critical to contribute to my understanding.

365 days later to the day I received a letter in the mail.

The people who were after me were my own family.

They paid every penny they could into training and hunting me.

Their pictures were sent with snipits of who they are.

One woman had blue eyes, that looked so… familiar.

As I got to the second and third picture, I realized that they had all staged their own role within my life. The woman was a grocery store cashier, around the corner from my primary property in England.

The older man with the full hair and brown eyes, was a man who daily walked his dog, (an adorably oversized black lab), up my street.

The young lady with the neat and tidy look of an accountant was a coffee shop owner, 5 blocks from my Manhattan apartment.

Why if they wanted to hunt me, would they pose to know me for this long?

Why would my family be so heartwarmingly empathetic to my daily toils if only to do something to hurt or hinder me?

I grew up in an orphanage. It got awkward when I aged out of the system still only looking to be 5 yrs old, but I found a sympathetic family to take me in.

Where was my real family then?

Time guarantees all sorts of troublesome issues, even more so when it is without end. Centuries have passed since I lost my humanity, my very capacity for decay, and across the countless years I've made more enemies than I have friends. So many enemies, in fact, that much of their animosity has become lost on me. Take my oldest still-living adversary, for example. A pompous family line of aristocratic fools, hellbent on writing wrongs committed so long ago that I can hardly recall what those wrongs were to begin with. Which is unfortunate, as possessing such information could perhaps help me heal this, likely petty, grudge which they insist on upholding.

I mean, did I purloin a rare collection of priceless jewelry during my first visit to the French coast in 1640? Sure. Did I spread a particularly nasty brand of syphilis to a number of settlements throughout Europe and Eastern Asia in the 19th Century? Yes, I did that. Was I partly responsible for inciting an insurrection which resulted in the deaths of a few thousand people? Guilty. But still, you'd think the bitterness would subside after so long, however I'm beginning to think that may never be the case.

Just last week an assassin interrupted a rather exciting game of online chess that I was playing in which I was very much on top. Unfortunately, it was ultimately ruined as a result. I just wish that they wouldn't be so rude in their attempts to murder me. Whatever happened to good manners?

I am an immortal cultivator. Even if I`m no longer bound by time , the cultivation path is endless - there’s always new realms to ascend to and new worlds to reach.
I sense heavenly tribulation approaching me in the near future, a decade or so and I won’t be able to avoid it any longer. As cultivation is an act against heavens they just keep on coming in increasing strength, though my divination tells me I might not survive this one.

Somehow my karma has been declining rapidly the past few centuries - some random people keep coming and trying to kill me - they will drop boulders on top while I'm sleeping, try poisoning the spring I frequently drink from and other various ways while looking at me with bloodshot eyes.

As most of them are mere mortals and rare cultivators among them are at most at mere core formation stage - all those foolish attempts do not harm me in any way. I do not bother to kill them and just relocate - killing those so much weaker than me for simple reasons as disturbing my sleep would just accumulate bad karma.

Though my karma problem is probably stemming from them - not sure why they’re trying to kill me anyway, I don’t remember doing anything after reaching this realm - heck I hardly interacted with people - I just focused on cultivation since finding this remote world.

— clan records —

Year 14257 - there was a flash of light and a huge explosion as a large pit appeared in the farming fields with some stranger inside it. Elders speculated it’s a powerful cultivator and damage was a backlash from entering our world.

Year 14363 - there has been thunder striking down from heavens repeatedly for the whole week - a few hundred hectares around the center were utterly destroyed with no signs of life. Our clan headquarters were unfortunately also inside this radius.

Year 14365 - Clan successfully rebuild the headquarters and contacting other families it was confirmed that heavenly tribulation was caused by an unidentified man from a few years ago.

Year 14468 - 27th lighting incident happened - this time radius was even larger, 45 more clans were destroyed. The remaining survivors joined our clan - according to calculation we don’t have much time left - as the lighting radius grows exponentially, the next one will span across the whole planet - we must get that man out of our planet somehow!

Nature is my only constant. The feel of sand under my feet and the sound of waves breaking on the beach is the same as the first time I ever heard it. Empires rise and fall, languages change like clouds in the sky, everything about the world people create is in flux and always will be. But the sensations of nature orient me, focus me. Every time I begin to feel myself becoming lost in memory I retreat to the closest place I can to feel nature's hand.

The whipcrack of a bullet barely missing my head is also the same as the first time I had been shot at, centuries ago. One hand goes to cover my ringing ear as I run into the surf. I don't hear the second shot but I see the fountain of sea spray come off the wave ahead of me before I can dive in properly. Water becomes a better shield the faster the bullet is. I claw at the sand at the bottom, helping the undertow take me out to sea. My eyes sting with the salt and entrained stand, but even through the blur I can see the cavitation bubble trail of another shot at me.

The undertow has me in hand, I put my trust in it and go limp. With preparation I can hold my breath for several minutes, but I had no time to prepare. Any person can slow their heart and persist long after their lungs feel like they are burning. I had learned far more on down the long years. In moments I had quieted my heart and distanced myself from the coming complaints of my lungs. By the time the ocean carried me to the surface I had estimated more than ten minutes had passed. Still, I remained limp, my heart beating rarely. Barely any part of me would be above the surface. If another shot came I knew I would have to take more drastic action. A minute passed. I raised my face to part the surface and take a breath. Another minute without a following shot. Either a very patient sniper or they had lost sight of me.

I righted myself in the water until my entire head was above the surface. My heart proceeded to race as soon as I had unrestrained it. I gasped and panted for a few moments. Then I heard an engine. It took a moment of coming about as I treaded water to find the skiff. Persistent. Although with the waves carrying both shooter and quarry to and fro, up and down it was almost impossible that-

The shot skipped off of a wave ten cubits in front of me. The bullet then struck my hairline, snapping my head back into the water and taking some shiver of my skull with it. I did not have to try to sink beneath the waves. I was three cubits under them before I could think properly again. In the last century most of the cults and societies that knew of me had fallen to history. Of the handful that remained I had a notion of which one had spawned this assassin.

Two minutes later I was far deeper and had a view of the hull of the skiff. Now, would the assassin be stupid enough to try and enter the ocean and pursue me? The water blurred my sight but an errant flash of white warned me that something had been dropped. Then the grenade exploded some twenty cubits above me. My eyes clouded with stars while my ears rang loud enough to drive thought away for an instant. I sank deeper and forced the pain to a distant realm above the clouds in my mind. The assassin tossed more grenades, varying the depth by cooking off some of the timer before the toss. I hoped I had more time than they had grenades. How many could they have brought in anticipation?

The assault stopped with the deepest detonation yet. The assassin had probably thrown that down as hard as they could have. Now it was my turn, but I had several minutes yet in reserve, no need to breach like a whale. I swam up with deliberate slowness, conserving my wind. I eased myself along the shallow keel to the still propeller. Once my hands were on the plate and my feet on the skeg I let the rocking of the boat dictate my timing. At the downward rock of the stern I lifted my head and shoulders above the water but below the lip of the gunnels. Another pause for the ocean to tell me when to raise myself again.

My assailant sat just before me, his elbow on the tiller as he scanned the water with some kind of electronic binoculars. Apparently, his conclusion had been that I had fled further out to sea. I raised myself again to the rock of the skiff. Once I had my right foot on the gunnel I took hold of the man, wrapping his throat into the crook of my left arm while I locked out the elbow he had had on the tiller. We crashed to the deck and I wrapped my legs around his thighs to lock his knees together. He was strong, quite strong, but my thews had aged like oak and I overpowered him despite his superior size. His mind left him, his brain starved for blood.

That gave me the moments I needed. I released him, turned him over, and wrote the mandala I needed on his forehead in my blood though I had to scrape at my wound to bring forth the bleeding again. A few old words later and the man's body left his control and entered mine. I sat him up and enjoyed the terror and confusion in his eyes as he regained consciousness in a body not under his dominion any longer.

I tried English. Everyone seemed to speak some English these days.

1/2

I woke up, chained to my bed, a saw in the middle of cutting my stomach.

“Not again” I mutter, rolling my eyes.

I sit up, yanking the chains, breaking them off from my bed frame.

“I can’t just have one nice nap? You people are crazy.”

“We’re not crazy. We’re trying to get revenge.” A voice says from the corner of my room. The person is hiding comfortably in the shadows.

“Revenge for what? You and your lineage have been trying to kill me for thousands of years.”

“You’re still playing dumb?” The person becomes enraged, “Why can’t you take responsibility for your actions?” The person is yelling now, “I hate you!”

And before I realized what’s happening, the person is running at me with a knife, and for a brief second I catch a glance of their face. There’s tears streaming down their face. I felt sorry for them. That was until I felt the knife plunging into my heart.

The person stabs me over and over, yelling things I can’t understand. She’s crying. Suddenly I feel this odd sensation coming over me. The girl starts floating, chanting something from a language I thought dispersed a long time ago.

“Ied. Ied ouy upidts ons fo æ thcib. Ouy suredc em nda ym milyaf ot æ imetifle fo reffungi, dna ety, ouy trelend ouy on’td memrerbe. I pohe ouy ffersu orf lal fo itynrete.“

She explodes in the air, her ashes falling all over me.

Then I remember. This is the Jaïfē family. They descended from the Heavens. I look down, noticing my bleeding heart for the first time. I get up to look in the mirror and I see the horns on my head, the fire emitting off my body. I remember who I am.

I am Shirafę. The devil banished from the Heavens. It was me who led to the downfall of the Jaïfē family. I brought them down with me.

I decided to fall asleep, hoping to forget about this once more. I actually liked the chase, but they didn’t need to know that.

I crawl into bed, still bleeding.

Hopefully, I wake up to the same cycle.

It was 03:42 CT on February 14th, 1996, in rural Pennsylvania when Nadya Sobol died once again, for the 32rd recorded time since 1943.

Her would-be murderer panicked as he realized what he had done, removing his hands from her neck. The bruises along her already pale skin did not hide what he did.

"N-no no no no." He stuttered as he quickly removed himself from her and buckled his jeans. He stumbled out of his car and paced around, cursing himself as he thought what to do next.

Eventually, he decided. He reached back into his car, attempted to cover back up Nadya's corpse with the clothes he had torn, and carried her out to a nearby ditch along the road. He uttered a quick apology before he unceremoniously heaved her into it. He started back to his car until a sudden thought had him returning back to better hide her from the road.

After he was done, he ran back to his car and hurriedly drove off.

It was later that evening when Nadya finally woke back up, slowly sitting up as she clutched her head in minor pain.

Dusk is almost upon us, young one.

Nadya looked around in a daze, a hand still holding her head. "Yeah, I can see that, Captain Obvious."

Another decade must pass before that becomes relevant.

She lazily got up and stumbled out of the ditch onto the empty road, her shirt in tatters. She didn't even have her jeans anymore. "Do you know what happened? Last night, I mean."

He ended your life, briefly.

"That cyka! I should've known he would've pulled something like that."

I did warn you of the dangers of hitchhiking, and of offering your flesh for favors.

"Shut it. What did you do? I don't see his body anywhere." Nadya raised her arms and motioned around the road.

He did no more harm than necessary.

Nadya sighed and muttered. "He was supposed to be driving me to the next town..."

She clutched her head again, the pain dimming. It was normal for her, however, after each death. The strain of regeneration took it's toll.

If it may offer you solace, there should be a motel 2 miles east.

"How do you even know that?"

There—

"Nevermind, I don't want to know. Let's get going."

Don't forget your trousers.

"What?" Nadya looked back at the ditch and saw them, bundled up with some of her other belongings. She huffed. "Finally, some decency."

Luckily, her jeans were untouched, unlike her shirt. Even more fortunately, her wad of cash was still in it, along with her jacket. She threw them on and started towards the motel, with only the voice in her head for company, and a set of eyes watching her go from afar.

Nadya slumped onto the motel bed, probably disturbing a nest of bedbugs when she did.

You've done it again.

"You've no right to judge." She said softly.

Yet I do. Have you forgotten what I am?

"That clerk was this close to calling 911. What was I supposed to do?"

Run away. You don't have to do this every time...

"Leave me alone, please. I want to be alone with my own thoughts for one second. Please."

...Very well.

Nadya laid on the bed, alone once again, for what seemed to be an hour before she stripped off her clothes and headed into the shower.

The hot water streamed down her back as she crouched in a fetal position, as black tears rolled down her face. She sobbed quietly until her tears had run dry and her sorrow bottled away.

She turned the shower off and stepped out, and faced herself in the mirror. It was her birthday today, she realized. She'd be sixty-six now.

Yet... Here she was, stuck at the age she first died at, thirteen. Her body had barely begun the awkward process of puberty, then.

Immortality... What a joke, she thought. She had thought it would have given her power, given her purpose. It was not to be. Men still preyed upon her, and she was still so utterly alone.

Nadya glared at her face with hatred. She hated her pale skin, her blonde hair, and her eyes. The same icy blue eyes as her sister. As her father...

She punched the mirror, shattering it and cutting herself in the process. Black blood seeped into the sink and onto the floor as she quickly dressed herself.

She went back to the bed, and curled in on herself under the covers, silently praying until she fell asleep.

Nadya dreamt. She dreamt of the day she had found her sister standing over their father's body.

"Ana..." She stared at her father, eyes wide with shock and fear. Anastasiya quickly grabbed her hand.

"Nadya, look at me, please look at me. We have to go. We have to go, now!"

She finally turned her gaze at her sister, and saw something within her eyes. She swallowed hesitantly.

"W-where's Vasily? Why isn't he here? Why isn't he here!?" Nadya screamed, prompting Ana to tear up. And that's when she knew. Vasily was dead, and that thing that was within him was now in Ana.

"He... Gave up his life for you, didn't he?" Ana let go of her hand and doubled over, heaving until she threw up a black substance.

"Nadya... Nadya... Please, I don't have much time. I'm not a worthy vessel." Ana stared at her sister with urgency, and then it dawned on Nadya.

"No... No..." She stared in horror as her sister sliced her own forearm open with a talon, black blood spilling out. Ana raised her arm to her.

"No, I won't do it. Please, Ana! Don't make me do it..." She cried, as her sister was becoming visibly weaker.

"You have to. There's no other way."

"Please..."

"Nadya, wake up."

Nadya's eyes abruptly opened. She groaned as she wiped the tears from her eyes.

Nadya, wake up.

"Can't you leave me alone for one fucking sec—"

We have an intruder.

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