Never Change

Book II: Chapter 44

Raven drew Omen once more, watching her opponent carefully. Lilith crouched, sinking into her stance. Her glaive nestled against the crook of her arm, resting comfortably on her back.

And then she struck once more.

-o-o-o-

She couldn't do it. It wasn't possible.

Not without the help of the maiden powers. She called upon them once again, envisioning lightning streaking from Miló to attack the hide of the tentacles.

Surging forward, it blitzed from her hand, manifesting into existence, and reaching out to strike.

The pathetic ruby sparks that emanated from her fingertips did nothing to scratch the thick, black hides of the tentacles. They continued to close in on her, the dome of black flesh shrinking by the second, ensnaring her like a helpless rabbit caught in the hunter's trap.

She stilled, recognizing the hopelessness of the situation she was in. It was over, wasn't it? All of the effort she had put in, all of that just to lose.

As darkness encroached upon her, Pyrrha's mind raced with memories of her past, each moment flashing before her like fragments of a shattered mirror. She remembered the innocent laughter of her friends, the warmth of her team's camaraderie, and the fleeting moments of hope that once fueled her resolve. The times at Beacon, Percy, and her friends—they had reminded her of what it meant to be human and have friends. To not be placed on a pedestal and isolated from the world. To not be a trophy paraded before a crowd.

But now, she felt that same isolation once more. She felt it all—the cold embrace of despair, clinging and wrapping around her like a suffocating shroud, the cage, like she was trapped in a ring.

She'd failed Percy. She'd failed her team. She'd failed everyone. She had wanted to save the world as a huntress, as a maiden—but in the end, she was nothing more than a foolish pawn. Pyrrha clenched her eyes shut, resigned to her fate.

"Fight..."

Her pools of emerald green widened. Who was that? The voice was masculine, so it couldn't have been the woman in front of her. No, was she hallucinating?

"Fight... fight..."

Was that...

Was that Percy?

"Fight Pyrrha, fight!" the voice thundered.

That was right! She'd gone too far to give up now. All of the good times she had at Beacon, finding true friends for the first time in her life... Being a huntress was her destiny! Why would she just give up now?

Her breath stalled. Her heart froze, skipping a beat, and then violently pounded against her ribcage, threatening to burst out of her chest. She could feel her blood flow—from her legs to her fingertips to her neck—she could feel it all pulsating, and her skin was tingling with anticipation. Her crimson-red hair flared up off her shoulders.

A mark, a red xiphos crossed against a golden shield, seared itself onto the skin of her collarbone.

It was a rush of power that came through her veins—the rush of great white rapids, sending a sensation of shivers down her spine. She could feel the power surging through her entire being. It was like nothing she had ever experienced before, even beyond the power of the maidens. Her eyes glowed and blazed with green flames, representing a burst of fury that threatened to encapsulate her opponent.

The dented Miló mecha-shifted into a xiphos, whose tip remained dented. But the blade was still sharp, and that would have to do.

She burst forth. Crimson lightning surged forth from her fingertips with a vengeance, striking and slashing through the tough hide of the tentacles. She saw the widened eyes of her opponent, and she slashed downwards, aiming to pierce the space between her fluorescent eyes.