I apologize if some of today’s pics are too dark or uninteresting to look at lmaooooooo there’s only so many things you can do with a “dark endless void” set 🤡💀 I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless 🙂‍↕️

Heat detonated in Kassandra’s veins—warmth, pain, fire—something tearing free beneath her skin. “𝑆ℎ𝑜𝑤 ℎ𝑖𝑚 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 ℎ𝑒 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑏𝑒 𝑎𝑓𝑟𝑎𝑖𝑑 𝑜𝑓.” The pain surged like molten chains. The void fractured and the world slammed back into her.

Her voice dropped, brutal and unwavering, as she gripped her chin with an uncharacteristic gentleness. “You want to live? 𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒇𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒊𝒕.”

“Too bad.” Gluttony replied simply as she let her go. “You don’t get to want clean hands 𝑎𝑛𝑑 a pulse. You want absolution?” she snapped. “You can beg the universe for forgiveness 𝑎𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑟 you’re breathing.”

“You are not 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑦,” Gluttony hissed. “You are the violence you keep pretending is happening 𝑡𝑜 you.” Kassandra sobbed, breath tearing in and out of her chest. “I—I don’t want to be this—”

She stepped closer, every word snapping like a slap.“You wrap yourself in fear and call it morality. You curl up and call it mercy. 𝑬𝒏𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉..” Her fingers curled in Kassandra’s hair, yanking her gaze up. “Stop playing the victim.”

Gluttony rose, towering, the dying elevator light carving her into fire and shadow. “Stop pretending you’re harmless.” She scoffed, sharp and cutting. “Gods, listen to you. Shaking. Begging. Apologizing for wanting to live.”

“So here you are,” Gluttony murmured as she kept her counterpart from sinking into the void, “begging a shadow you invented to save the life you’re too afraid to fight for.” Kassandra choked on the command. “𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒎𝒆 𝒉𝒐𝒘!”

The void warped again. “Giving the part of yourself you're terrified of a face so you don’t have to admit it kept you alive.” Kassandra tried to crawl away. There was nowhere to go, her hands passed through nothing, her body weightless, useless.

The warmth drained from her voice. “My hunger? 𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔. My violence? 𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔.” Gluttony leaned close, breath at Kassandra’s ear. “But this was easier, wasnt it? Pretending the 𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓 is separate.”

“𝑭𝒐𝒓 𝑫𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒆𝒏,” she said. “𝑭𝒐𝒓 𝒁𝒂𝒆𝒍. For every moment you survived when someone else didn’t.” Tears blurred the flickering elevator light in the distance. “No,” Kassandra whispered. “You’re real. You’re the one that—” “𝑰’𝒎 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒅, whether you like it or not,” Gluttony cut in.

Her eyes burned, as she stared upwards. “You learned that night that love can't always stop the blade. That mercy doesn’t always pull out the stake. That fate is cruel.”

The night she lost everything. The night her heart went cold. “But I didn’t—” Kassandra’s voice broke. “I didn’t kill him.” “I know,” Gluttony said, and for the first time, there was no mockery in her voice. Only certainty. “You didn’t.”

The same dress she had worn the night Davien died in her arms. The fabric still looked heavy with memory, clinging where Kassandra remembered blood-soaked fingers clutching at it. The night she’d dropped to her knees and begged Levi—𝑏𝑒𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑑 ℎ𝑖𝑚—to save Davien’s life.

Kassandra choked on a sob when she noted the dress gluttony wore...

Gluttony’s face wasn’t just similar. It was ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑠. Not a mirror, not an echo—hers, carved sharper, colder, stripped of softness and restraint. The same eyes. The same mouth. It 𝑤𝑎𝑠 her.

“No!” Kassandara growled through her teeth, eyes squeezing shut as if the sound of his name was enough to tear her apart. “𝑳𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒂𝒕 𝒎𝒆,” Gluttony commanded. She didn’t want to. Dread crawled up her spine, but her eyes betrayed her. And then—she 𝑡𝑟𝑢𝑙𝑦 saw it.

A pause—cruel, knowing. “𝑰’𝒎 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒖𝒊𝒍𝒕 𝒔𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒇𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒅 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒍𝒂𝒎𝒆. 𝑭𝒐𝒓 𝑫𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒆𝒏. 𝑭𝒐𝒓 𝒁𝒂𝒆𝒍.”

“𝑲𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒓𝒂.” The name landed heavy. Gluttony tapped her forehead with one long, elegant finger. The void rippled, as if reality flinched. “𝑰’𝒎 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒖𝒕𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖.” Her smile sharpened. “𝑰’𝒎 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒂 𝒅𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒚. 𝑵𝒐𝒕 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒅𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒍 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒆𝒂𝒓.”

Tears blurred the flickering elevator light in the distance. Kassandra shook. “Please. Just this once, help me fight back. I can’t—”

Gluttony laughed. Warm. Indulgent. The sound somehow made the void colder. “𝑯𝒆𝒍𝒑 𝒚𝒐𝒖?” She crouched to eye level, head tilted. “𝑰 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖’𝒅 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒇𝒊𝒈𝒖𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒃𝒚 𝒏𝒐𝒘.”

Kassandra’s knees buckled. There was no ground to hit—only a slow, helpless sink as she clawed at nothing. “Please,” she gasped. “Help me. He’s going to kill me—he’s going after my family. I can’t... I can't get out—”

Gluttony stepped from the darkness as if she were being poured out of it, her shape forming a fraction too slowly to be human. Eyes glowed with lazy, predatory amusement as she circled Kassandra, smoke given intent.

Then— A whisper slid along her spine. “𝑩𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏, 𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒃𝒖𝒕𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒓?”

Now it stood upright and still. The metal doors hung half-open, the interior light flickering weakly, a heartbeat clinging to life. Its low hum vibrated through the black, the only thing tethering her to reality.

Darkness folded around her like wet velvet. No sound. No breath. No body. Only the void—the same one from the dream. The same endless drop where the elevator fell and fell and fell, and something inside her had woken up.

Got the day off due to the ice storms that came through so a queue spam will be coming shortly 🙂‍↕️

She is pleased I turned off WoW 🙂‍↕️🤭

Her eyelids fluttered. She fought—gods, she fought—to stay conscious, but the darkness curled around her edges, dragging her under. Within seconds, it swallowed her whole.

“Stings, doesn’t it?” Bootsteps approached, unhurried. “I’m not done with you just yet.” A shadow fell over her, voice dipping into a cruel purr as his fingers caressed her cheek. “This little stunt expedites things. I'm afraid you’ve got one final act to perform, pet.”

She forced herself up, a raw scream ripping through her clenched teeth as white-hot pain tore up her leg. A gunshot cracked through the air—then the ground slammed into her back. She stared at the sky, vision trembling, any trace of healing snuffed out by the vile round burning inside her thigh.

The gun lifted slowly, almost lovingly.

He dropped his voice to a mocking whisper. “You were my key to them. My way into their world. Their weakness.”

A beat of silence, just long enough for the horror to bloom in her chest. “Everything—everything from the very beginning—was designed to get close to you.”

“I chose you, Kassandra. Nothing about this was circumstance. Not the ‘chance’ meeting. Not the timing.” His grin sharpened. “Why do you think I funded that flippant artist’s gallery? Hm?”

He let the word hang between them, sweet and poisonous. “You were the perfect distraction.” He stepped back, spreading his arms as if showing her the grand stage he’d constructed.

“You see, when you hide something from someone, it only makes them more desperate to find it.” The cloaking spell weighed heavy on her shoulders as he continued to speak. “And when people are 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑒…they get sloppy.”

His eyes gleamed with something far too satisfied. “And then I ran into your sister.” Kassandra’s breath stuttered. He noticed instantly. “Oh yeah, she was looking for you,” he said, almost amused.

“I thought—” he coughed, spit a thick line of blood into the dirt, then grinned with cracked lips. “I thought we were making progress. You and me, and we were 𝑠𝑜 close.” He limped closer, dragging one foot slightly, like some puppet stitched together with rage and adrenaline.

“Always cleaning up your messes,” he muttered. “Always, always the same.” His hand emerged from the shadows with something he tucked into his belt—metal catching the firelight.

He dragged a shaking hand down his face, smearing fresh blood across his mouth. Then he turned back toward the crumpled wreck, rummaging somewhere near the shattered driver’s side door. His silhouette glowed red from the dying embers of the engine fire.

His shadow fell over her. “I tried,” he rasped, laughing breathlessly, too quiet, too unhinged. “I 𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑑 to play the long game. I tried so fucking hard.”

And then, impossibly, he walked toward her. She tried to stand, but her leg buckled, the bone still stitching itself back together in nauseating pops. Fire tore through her thigh and she collapsed onto her hands, grit grinding into her palms.

Kian staggered once, twice—then straightened, swaying on his feet, letting out a ragged, animal hiss through clenched teeth as pain lit his nerves. His voice vibrated with fury, with betrayal, with something rabid.

She watched, horrified, as the gash across his neck sealed another inch. He was healing faster than she was... faster than she 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑.

Beneath the blood and dirt, Kian’s wounds pulsed as if something alive writhed under his skin—knitting flesh with frantic, unnatural speed. His breathing hitched in pain, but the agony only sharpened him. Electric. Ferocious. He trembled like a live wire plugged straight into a generator.

Whatever he had injected was working 𝒇𝒂𝒔𝒕. Too fast.

She realized, with a hollow sinking in her gut, that she hadn’t killed him. And whatever he’d just pumped into his body— It wasn’t meant to save him. It was meant to 𝑚𝑎𝑡𝑐ℎ her. To survive her. To hurt her back.

The hatred wasn’t loud, it was quiet; Quiet like someone promising a slow death. The smile that twisted across his bloody mouth was worse than any scream.

Finally, his head lifted. His eyes found her through the smoke, unfocused but unmistakably intent. His voice cracked out of him like a blade dragged across stone. “You…” A shudder. A blood-filled cough. “…psychotic… fucking… bitch.”