Viir isn't a fairy.
Viir isn't a child.
Viir is pure evil.
Viir was dancing in the air, crimson wings fluttering with madness.
"Oh, you there~" she giggled.
A black spike erupted from the ground, impaling a man through the leg and hoisting him upside down like fresh meat on a hook.
"Please!"
"Don't talk with your mouth full," Viir sang.
Another spike jutted upward, this one punched through his jaw. His body twitched violently, then went still.
The sound of the blood hitting the floor with force made Sinephilim wince.
The room reeked. A sick mix of alcohol, blood, and rotting magic. The black spikes pulsed, breathing, draining life out of everyone near them. Men collapsed to their knees, choking, vomiting blood.
Even Willow staggered, his fire dimming as the energy bled from him.
This is a curse.
She looked at Willow.
Even he was affected. This is bad.
Viir flew higher, twirling like a ballerina mid carnage. "Oh, isn't this fun?"
She hovered over a knight trying to crawl away.
"Don't be so boring."
She blew him a kiss.
The man spasmed, eyes wide, then screamed. Shrieking as he began tearing into his own face with his fingernails. Peeling his skin. Blood flew. He tore one eye out, then the other, his mouth frothing, gurgling prayers to any god that might save him. He didn't stop.
Not until his skull hit the stone floor with a sickening crack.
"Wasn't that fun to watch?" Viir beamed, dancing mid-air. "More!"
Black spikes spread across the room. The air thinned. The walls pulsed. Everything felt wrong, like reality itself was bent around her will.
Sinephilim realized it too late. Viir wasn't fighting. She was playing.
More guards poured in, at least a dozen, maybe more. From all angles.
"Oh goody, more toys!" Viir's smile widened at the reinforcements.
The group stood frozen. They reeked of fear as their eyes witnessed the hall bathed in blood.
Some started praying. Others pissed themselves. One tried to run.
Then, with a twirl, Viir put her finger to her eye and stuck her tongue out.
"Don't be scared," she cooed, flashing a sugar-sweet smile.
Then she snapped her fingers.
The ceiling cracked open.
Black tentacles rained down vines made of flesh, screeching, squirming, laughing things. They were alive.
The first knight screamed as a tentacle coiled around his waist, then yanked him upward spine-first through his armor. He thrashed and howled as bones cracked one by one.
Another man had his jaw peeled off. Another tendril threaded through the gaping hole and wore his tongue, then ripped his head off.
Viir was giggling.
Sinephilim fell to one knee, covering her mouth.
The tentacles weren't just killing.
They were performing.
They played their victims like instruments, turning agony into theater.
The air was filled with a symphony of gurgles, cracks, and shrieks; Viir conducting it all with a child's glee.
She hovered above the chaos, twirling midair, a ballerina dripping in blood, her eyes glowing with happiness.
Viir didn't stop. The last group, the one furthest from the slaughter, finally broke and turned to run.
Viir noticed.
She tilted her head. Smiled. Then she opened her mouth and let out a scream.
It wasn't a sound meant for mortal ears. It was the shriek of a world being torn in half, the cry of something ancient and wrong birthing itself into existence. It echoed through bone and blood, bypassing thought entirely.
Everyone froze. Muscles locked. Minds shattered. The air itself seemed to hold its breath.
The fleeing men stopped mid-stride, frozen as if they were posing for a painting.
Sinephilim staggered a step. She was lost in thought, a thought she couldn't remember nor understand. It felt like she was watching behind her own eyes. She felt tears run down her face, and when she wiped them-
Blood covered her hand.
She looked at Willow, still breathing, trembling horribly. Then Veronica, she was ghostly pale.
The black spikes were feeding on them too.
Viir didn't care. She didn't even notice.
Sinephilim clenched her jaw. She dropped to her knees and pressed her palm to the floor.
The light within her burned.
"Viir," she whispered, "we're supposed to be allies."
Then shouted, "PURIFY!"
A blast of radiant light erupted from her body.
The spikes crumbled to ash.
The black fog recoiled and dissolved.
The black tentacles retreated.
The effects of the scream faded.
The air filled with silence and then ragged breathing. Willow fell to his knees, coughing violently. Veronica stumbled, her lips pale, and fingers trembling. The last group of guards ran.
They were alive.
Barely.
Sinephilim let out a long, shuddering breath, her hands shaking from the energy it took to cast it.
Viir hovered above, still smiling, but her voice changed.
"How dare you." It echoed. Deep. Ancient. A scream lost in a forest of corpses.
Sinephilim stood, shoulders squared. "You would've killed us."
"You do that again, and I will kill you," Viir whispered. "Friend or not."
Her eyes, normally bright red, darkened to black pits. Something in her shifted.
Then she blinked.
"Oh! Willow!" She chirped suddenly, the madness evaporating. "What are you doing here?"
Willow gasped, still catching his breath. "Viir… I… carried you…"
"Hehe, really? Aww, thanks for that!" Viir floated down, humming. "That must mean Rhen woke up!"
Everyone froze.
Willow's eyes widened.
"I… I have to go…" he said hoarsely, turning to stumble toward the exit.
Veronica was barely standing. Her lips were blue. She limped toward Sinephilim.
"I'll purify you," Sinephilim said softly, placing a glowing hand on both their shoulders. Warmth poured through her fingers. Their souls began to stitch back together.
Veronica coughed and rubbed her neck, blood crusting along a healing wound. "I think… it's time we return to Felicia," she said. "I have… a lot to report to the king."
Sinephilim looked back once.
Viir was still hovering, twirling above the corpses like a child spinning beneath falling leaves.
But there were no leaves.
Only blood and bone.