This Shouldn't Work, But Here We Are

Inheritance of Ash

And in the ruins of what used to be the silver dining hall of the House of Vinterre, a girl stood across a table from the two people who brought her into this world.

Her name was Elide. They had once named her Blessing. How fucking ironic.

Her mother, Marluxia the Spinebreaker, wore velvet like it was still a crown. Her nails were painted in the blood of rebellions. Her father, Domerron the Hollow Saint, leaned against a shattered pillar with that signature bored look of divine damnation in his eyes. The war had aged them both, but not enough. Not in the way that mattered. They still looked like gods trying on human masks.

"You didn't have to come back," Marluxia said coolly. "You could've kept pretending you're better than us."

"I didn't come back," Elide replied. Her voice didn't shake. She'd fought demons, buried comrades, kissed chaos on the mouth. "I came to end the story."

Domerron chuckled, low, tired, cruel. "You always did have your mother's dramatics."

"No," Elide said. "Just her rage."

Behind her stood the last of the Flock, feathers black and wet with recent battle. And Acturos, mad, beautiful Acturos, spun a blade between his fingers like a song dying on repeat. His crow wings twitched. His smile was too wide to be sane. "G'day, Vinterres," he said. "Bit of a family reunion, eh?"

"Tell me, daughter," Marluxia purred, ignoring him. "What exactly do you want?"

"I want to understand," Elide answered. "Why did I have to be the one to crawl through your war. Why you raised me on blood and fire only to brand me a traitor when I choose light over legacy."

Silence stretched like skin pulled too tight. Then Domerron spoke.

"Because you were always the weakest. The one who asked why instead of when. You want to fix what needs burning. You thought mercy was strength. It isn't."

"That's why you kept your hands clean?" Elide snapped. "Let Mother kill in your name while you watched from the altars like a bored god?"

Something cracked behind her. Acturos' grin widened. The others grew still.

"I believed in you," Elide whispered. "And you made me into your fucking weapon. And when I refuse to kill children, you call me a failure."

Marluxia stood then, regal even in her rotted glory. "You were never a failure, darling. You were simply... inconvenient."

And something inside Elide broke. Not in the fragile, shattered way. No. This break was clean. Purposeful.

She reached for her sword. Acturos, with a dramatic little bow, stepped aside.

"You taught me to fight," she said. "You forgot to teach me how to stop."