Cateline woke, startled and frantic as she grasped at the leaves beneath her. When she looked up, she was alone, and the sun was beginning to rise from the horizon. Standing, her knees wobbled, and her mouth still tasted metallic. Although she knew she was back in Traburg, and that reality was a much kinder beast than whatever visions she was just tortured and forced to go through, she did not feel free. She felt a chain weighing her down at her ankles, pulling her back towards that clearing. Pushing through that feeling, she found her way down the mountainside and back into the city. The morning sun blinded her as soon as she broke through the tree line. She passed by a few farmers, their eyes narrowed towards her with disgust and worry. Cateline reached up and rubbed her skin with force, trying to rid her complexion of the dried blood that had been smeared across her features. She looked down at her dress and gasped, her entire gown stained crimson from her breast to the end of her skirt. It was as if an entire slaughterhouse had spewed onto her during that reverie. Reaching up, she grasped at her necklace. Only, this time around, she was met with nothing but skin. The pendant her mother had once given her was missing, leaving her bare and unable to fidget as she passed everybody. With blurring vision, she forced herself down the pathway as her vision failed her. She felt pulled down... controlled. Reality was not hers, and yet she was moving towards Lighthelm without restriction. It was that incesent ringing in the back of her mind, an irritating reminder that she was not the puppeteer for tonight. Somebody else pulled the strings. “Miss?” A voice spoke. She had just entered the town of Daggernest, the most occupied city in Traburg, and the closest to Lighthelm. Turning her gaze down to a girl, no older than ten or eleven, Cateline dropped her hand to the side to stop the fidgeting and rubbing. “What is it?” Cateline responded, narrowing her eyes. She felt defensive; as if anybody could put her in that internal loop of terror again. She watched a man be beaten to near death, only to be resurrected by Leolina. To top it all off, her pendant was missing and Leolina may not be just an elf. If one more person put her in a portal of her family's past or show her some type of vision where she was a ghostly bystander, she would lose it. “You are covered in blood,” the girl said and eyed her from her chin to her feet. When she peered back at her through her eyelashes, she lacked irises—those green eyes were now white like snow. She smiled, each tooth a pointed fang with black gums. “The blood of your family’s mistakes!” Cateline choked a scream, backing away from the demented child and into the arms of another civilian. Turning around, she caught sight of a man with the same white eyes, their hair as red as a flame and as straw-like as hay. Their hands wrapped around her wrists, the fingernails tearing into the skin and secreted venom into her. When she looked down at their hands, they were glowing green with blackened veins leading up their forearm. Tearing away, she cried as the wounds pulsated and bled out. Cateline was surrounded by beasts who yearned for her, to harm her and collect her ruins. Cateline knew she would die, she knew she was under the control of Seraphine, and she knew she was hopeless. Hopelessness, though, was a feeling Cateline detested. She, from a young age, desired to be as strong as her brother, Terrence. She wished to be as witty as her younger brother, Kristof. Lastly, she strived to be the leader her father never could be—to understand the world and help it become better. Better than Axulran, the almighty kingdom people all around revered. Better than a warrior of a king who ruled with an iron fist, King Airen. This time, when one of the creatures reached out with their lifeless eyes and talon-like fingers, she reached up and snatched them by the wrist. Her hands glowed, fire crawling out of the tips of her fingers until her entire hand was consumed by it. Releasing his hand from her grasp, she watched as the fire climbed up the fabric of his shirt, singing his long hair and kept growing despite his attempt at squashing the flames. Cateline gawked at the blaze, a smile twitching at this triumphant moment. She had mastered fire, instead of it mastering her. She felt in control, the fire did not snake around her veins as it did weeks prior. It did not suffocate her, ruining the ground around her as her body fought to survive. She wielded fire; it did not wield her. Lifting her hand up as she laughed at the sight, she watched the flames dance around her tendrils and dissipated into the air as the embers floated away. Looking past her hand, and onto one of the creatures, she straightened her arm and closed her eyes. Similarly to the night where she protected her parents from the elf in Axulran, she felt the pit of her stomach twist into a knot; however, this time, it did not weaken her—it instead strengthened her. Her voice echoed and reverberated against the homes around her as she unleashed all of her power onto that singular man: “Ignis in voluntate, nisi in crimen accesserit et posse superstes.” The foreign words dripped off her tongue like a hand was guiding her. She didn’t question what they meant, she didn’t hesitate with her enunciation and instead, was allowed to free herself of this pent-up energy. The creatures ran at her, baring their teeth like monsters and even clawed at her skin. As her skin tore, she only winced. She repeated this statement, each time louder and louder until it stopped. Everything ceased. The flames erupted from her hands, consuming each creature until it became still. She watched as the blades of grass burned, inching along until it found another one of the men who attacked her. She found joy in it, in the sight of watching these beasts be consumed. It was out of character for her, to revel in the idea of destruction, but this newfound freedom had awakened a new visceral reaction within her. Turning away, she felt the magic recede from her fingers and back into her skin. The warmth was reassuring, a stark contrast to the idea of ice that she fought off for so many years. As she turned to depart the scene and rid herself of the anguish she had just caused, a voice boomed at her to stop. “Witch!” A deep voice bellowed. “Stop right there!” Turning, she saw a dark prince stand with a long blade in his hands. His eyes were crimson, and his hair as dark as the night around her. He waved his sword, the tip of the blade glowing green with an enchantment she could not determine. “Who are you?” She asked, trailing her eyes from his head to his toes. Although she trusted her sense of sight right now, she couldn't help but note how blurry the man was. A mirage. “You know who I am,” the man responded after hesitation. “Do not act so coy!” Cateline pursed her lips and stood straight to face him. She felt a familiar aura breathe from him, an energy so powerful and confident it was contagious—so much so that it angered her just from being around him. Still, despite this familiarity, she doubted their companionship. She had never seen this man in her life. "I am positive we are not well met,” Cateline said, her eyelids growing heavy and the world around them growing dark, "but by the size of that sword, Prince, I think we will become well acquainted by the end of this fight." And—with that, the chaos truly unraveled.