The last breath
The village had always been quiet at night, but tonight, an unusual stillness hung in the air. Zira sat beside her mothers bed, the flickering candlelight casting shadows over the walls. Her mother’s once lively face face now looked pale, drawn, and far to still. Her breathing was shallow, her hand cold in Ziras grip. Every breath felt like it was being stolen away, one ragged gasp at a time.
“Mom..” Ziras voice cracked, her throat tight with emotion. “Please, dont go.I—I can fix this. I can make them listen.”
Her mother, weak as she was, managed to give a faint smile, though it was a shadow of the strong woman Zira always known. “You’re strong, my daughter… but this… this is not something you can fix.”
Zira gripped her mothers hand tighter, her heart breaking. The nobles.. they had the power to save her, to help her mother, but they just turned thier backs. They always did. To them, her mother was just another peasant, someone unworthy of thier time. And they had let her die.
Her vision blurred, but it wasn’t just the tears. There was something else. Something deep inside her, something burning. Rage.
“You’ve always been there for me,” Zira whispered, her voice shaking. “You always helped others, no matter what. Why don’t they see… Why don’t they care? You don’t deserve this”
Her mothers hand weakly squeezed her back, and her eyes fluttered open one last time. “Zira… listen to me. Don’t let anger consume you. Promise me…”
But Zira couldn’t hear her anymore. The loud storm inside her was growing too loud.
Without warning, her mothers breath slowed, and her hand went limp in Ziras grasp. Her heart shattered. The tears flowed faster than she could blink them away. Her mother was gone.
But in the wake of that loss…there was something else. The air around Zira shimmered, her magic suddenly sparking to life, swirling like a wild storm. Her grief, her fury, her helplessness—it all became power.
The ground trembled beneath her feet, a distant rumble like thunder. But it was no storm—it was her.
Zira’s hands shot out, and the world around her responded. The walls cracked, the furniture groaned and splintered. The candle flames flared, lighting the room with an intensity that matched the blaze inside her chest. For a split second, she felt alive, powerful, unstoppable. Then—it all shattered.
She fell to her knees, hands pressed against the cold, broken floor. The fire inside her died as quickly as it ignited, leaving her exhausted and completely empty. Her mothers body lying lifeless in the bed, was the only thing that grounded her in that moment.
“No…” Zira whispered, the guilt sinking in. “What have I done?”
Her body trembled, the remnants of power still coursing through her veins. She had no control over it—her magic was too raw, to wild. But one thing was clear: this power was not just a gift. It was a curse. A curse that would keep her moving foward.
And moving forward meant vengeance
Zira stood, wiping the tears from her eyes. “They will pay. Every last one of them.”
She walked to the window, staring out at the faint flicker of lights from the noble district, so far from her reach, so indifferent to her mothers death.
But she wasnt weak anymore. She wasnt powerless.
With one final glance at her mothers body, Zira made a promise. She would burn it all down. The nobles, the empire—they would all fall. And she would rise from the ashes.
