章 3: A Mother’s Dilemma
Damiana awoke with a jolt.
She was in a darkened room, sitting in front of a mirror. Her face, slightly unfamiliar, stared back at her. Her body was that of a 5-year-old; her limbs were small and awkward, but her eyes were sharp and understanding.
Ding!
The sudden sound echoed in her mind, and she blinked, startled. A transparent screen appeared before her eyes, filled with glowing text.
Welcome to the Primal Huntress System.
You have unlocked: Level 1.
Class: Siphoner/Dark Fae/Immortal (Tribrid)
Status: Active
Next evolution quest available.
Damiana's heart pounded as she read the words. The system was real, just as Nyx had promised. She had the power to grow, to hunt, and to evolve.
Next evolution quest: Learn to control the dark fae magic within you.
Now awakening Dark Fae race... 1%... 15%... 50%
Damiana grasped her chest as a searing pain spread through her childlike body. What is this? The agony was so intense that it sent her into a profound slumber.
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A week later,
The sun was setting beyond the hills, casting long shadows over the small village. Inside a modest stone cottage, the air was thick with tension. Damiana's mother, Elira, paced restlessly near the hearth, her hands wringing together in quiet frustration. The faint flicker of candlelight caught the lines of worry etched on her face. Her daughter was special, far more than anyone in the village had realized when she was born.
At only five years old, Damiana had already begun to show signs of something far more ancient and dangerous than the simple magic known to the village witches. Her dark fae heritage—passed down from her mother's side of the family—had begun to manifest in strange, uncontrollable ways. Small, harmless things at first: the whispers of leaves moving in ways they shouldn't, the subtle shifts in shadows even when there was no wind. But as the days passed, the occurrences grew darker, more alarming. Plants wilted in her presence, animals skittered away from her as though sensing the change.
Elira knew that the village's witches, with all their knowledge of simple magic, could not help her daughter. Fae magic was old, wild, and dangerous, far beyond the reach of mortal understanding. And Damiana was not just any fae child. She had inherited the darker side of the fae—her connection to the night, the shadows, the untamed forces of nature was too strong for anyone in their small community to handle.
There was only one person who could help.
Elira stepped toward the door, her movements deliberate as she reached for the small, engraved talisman she had kept hidden for years. It glowed faintly in her hand, a relic of her bloodline, a direct connection to the one she had long feared to summon—her sister, Deyanira. Elira hadn't spoken to her in years, not since the day Deyanira had chosen to live her life in the wilds, forsaking the village for the freedom of the dark forests where fae magic thrived.
But now, she had no choice.
Clutching the talisman tightly, Elira murmured the ancient words of summoning under her breath, her voice steady despite the growing unease in her chest. The air in the room thickened, and a soft, almost imperceptible wind began to swirl around her, carrying the scent of the forest. The candles flickered violently, their flames bending and stretching unnaturally, as though the very fabric of the room was reacting to the magic being called forth.
Suddenly, the air stilled, and a shadow shifted in the doorway.
"Summoning me at last, sister?" a voice called out, low and musical, laced with an otherworldly power that sent a shiver down Elira's spine.
Deyanira stepped into the cottage, her presence immediately filling the small room. Her hair, black as midnight, cascaded over her shoulders in wild waves, and her eyes—bright and fierce—glowed faintly in the dim light. She wore a cloak woven from shadows, the edges of it seeming to dissolve and reform as she moved.
Elira exhaled softly, relief and apprehension warring within her. "Deyanira… thank you for coming."
Deyanira's gaze swept the room before settling on her sister. "I felt the pull of the talisman. It's been a long time since you've called for me. What has changed?"
Elira's eyes darted toward the small, curtained-off corner of the room, where a child's soft breathing could be heard.
"She has awakened," Elira said softly, her voice tinged with both fear and pride. "Damiana… she's begun to show signs of her fae magic. But it's… different. Darker than I expected."
Deyanira's expression remained unreadable as she moved toward the curtain. "Darkness is nothing to fear, Elira. It is part of who she is." She paused, her eyes narrowing slightly. "But you're right to be concerned. The village witches cannot teach her what she needs to know. The dark fae magic within her will consume her if she is not trained properly."
Elira's hands trembled as she clasped them in front of her. "I don't know what else to do. No one here can help her… that's why I called you."
Deyanira gave a small nod. "You did the right thing." She reached out, brushing her hand against the curtain, which shifted like a whisper of silk, revealing the small figure curled up on the bed.
Damiana's small, delicate form was still, her face peaceful in sleep. But even in slumber, there was something wild about her. Her dark hair, messy and tangled, framed her face in soft waves, and her breathing was slow, calm—too calm for a child who had been struggling with such a powerful magic awakening within her.
Deyanira knelt beside her, placing a hand gently on the girl's forehead. She felt the faint pulse of magic, dark and untamed, swirling beneath the surface. It was weak now, but she could sense its potential—like a storm waiting to break free.
"She's powerful," Deyanira whispered, almost to herself. "More than you realize, Elira."
Elira bit her lip, her worry deepening. "Will you take her?"
Deyanira stood, her gaze never leaving Damiana's sleeping form. "Yes. I will take her to the forests, where she can learn what it means to be fae. She cannot stay here."
Elira's heart clenched painfully. She had known this moment was coming, but the thought of losing her daughter—of sending her away to the wilds—was almost unbearable. And yet, she knew it was the only way. Damiana needed to be trained, needed to learn control over the magic that would one day define her.
"Take care of her," Elira whispered, her voice breaking. "Please."
Deyanira gave her sister a small, reassuring smile. "I will. She will grow strong, and when she returns, she will be a force to be reckoned with."
With that, Deyanira scooped the sleeping child into her arms, her movements graceful and fluid. Damiana stirred slightly, but did not wake.
The air in the room shifted again as Deyanira turned to leave, stepping toward the door with her niece in her arms. Elira's eyes followed them, her heart heavy with both hope and sorrow.
________________________________________________________________________________________________
The journey to the dark forests was a blur of shadows and whispers. Deyanira carried Damiana in her arms, moving through the woods with the grace of a shadow herself. Damiana, though only five years old, felt no fear. She had always known the forest in a way that transcended her understanding—a connection that ran through her very soul. It felt like home, though she had never set foot in its depths.
The deeper they went, the darker the woods became. The trees grew taller, their gnarled branches twisting together, creating a canopy that blocked out most of the sunlight. The air here was thick with magic, so tangible it seemed to pulse with life. It wrapped around Damiana like a protective cloak, filling her senses with its raw, untamed power.
"Where are we going?" Damiana asked, her voice soft but curious.
"To the heart of the forest," Deyanira replied, her voice steady and calm. "This is where our kind thrives, where fae magic is at its strongest. You'll understand in time, little one."
They reached a clearing, a hidden grove that seemed untouched by time. The ground was soft beneath their feet, covered in moss and flowers that glowed faintly in the dim light. At the center of the clearing stood a stone altar, worn and ancient, with runes carved deep into its surface.
Deyanira set Damiana down and knelt beside her, brushing a lock of hair from the child's face. "This is where your training begins."
Damiana blinked up at her aunt, her wide eyes reflecting the faint light of the forest. "Training?"
Deyanira smiled, though there was something dark and serious in her gaze. "You've felt it, haven't you? The power inside you. It's been stirring for some time now."
Damiana nodded slowly. She had always known she was different from the other children in the village. There was something inside her, something she couldn't quite explain, but it was there—like a shadow, always lurking just beneath the surface.
Deyanira placed a hand on Damiana's chest, just over her heart. "That power is your birthright. It comes from the dark fae blood that runs through your veins. But it's wild. Untamed. If you don't learn to control it, it will consume you."
Damiana's brow furrowed as she tried to understand. "How do I control it?"
"By becoming one with it," Deyanira replied, her voice low and serious. "Fae magic isn't something you can force into submission. It's part of you. You have to learn to feel it, to command it with your will. Only then will it bend to you."
Damiana stared at the stone altar, feeling the weight of her aunt's words. She didn't fully understand, but she could feel the truth in them. The magic inside her wasn't something she could simply ignore. It was part of who she was, and if she didn't learn to control it, it would control her.
"Close your eyes," Deyanira instructed softly. "Breathe deeply and listen to the forest. Let the magic guide you."
Damiana obeyed, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. The sounds of the forest filled her ears—the rustling of leaves, the distant call of birds, the soft hum of the wind. But beneath those sounds, there was something else, something deeper. A whisper, faint but insistent, calling to her.
"Do you hear it?" Deyanira asked, her voice barely a whisper.
Damiana nodded, her heart racing. "Yes."
"Good," Deyanira said, her tone approving. "That's the magic. It's all around you, waiting for you to claim it. Reach out with your mind. Feel the darkness. Command it."
Damiana's brow furrowed as she focused, her small hands curling into fists. She could feel the magic swirling around her, like a shadow on the edge of her consciousness. It was cold and wild, but it responded to her call. Slowly, tentatively, she reached out with her mind, trying to grasp it.
At first, it slipped through her fingers, like water running through her hands. But she didn't give up. She focused harder, her breathing steady and deep. And then, she felt it—a faint pulse of energy, a thread of darkness she could barely see but could feel with every fiber of her being.
She gasped softly as the shadows around her began to shift. They coiled and twisted, rising from the ground like smoke, swirling around her in a delicate dance. The power was faint, but it was there, responding to her will.
Deyanira smiled, her eyes gleaming with approval. "You're doing well, little one. But don't push too hard. The magic will come when you're ready."
Damiana opened her eyes, watching in awe as the shadows flickered and twisted at her feet.
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