Betrayal Under The Moon

The moon hung low over the sacred river, its silver light dancing on the water’s surface, a serene reflection of the night. Afiyara knelt at the riverbank, her hands trembling ever so slightly as she set up her tools for the final experiment. The air was thick with anticipation, the whispers of her ancestors humming beneath the soft rush of the current.

Tonight, everything was going to change.

She could feel the pulse of the water, alive and ancient, carrying the legacy of her people. The ancestral dragon was watching, its presence lingering just beneath the surface, waiting to bestow its blessing. All that was left was one final ritual, one final invocation. She inhaled deeply, closing her eyes, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Ngai of the waters... I am ready.”

The river began to ripple in response, the water glowing faintly, as if echoing her words. She felt the energy of her ancestors rise within her, a steady drumbeat of power. But just as the first syllables of the ancient incantation left her lips, a crackling sound snapped through the air—jarring and unnatural.

Afiyara’s eyes flew open, her heart pounding. Her equipment—carefully placed—was malfunctioning, sparks flying in every direction. The sacred energy she had so carefully balanced was unraveling. She scrambled toward it, her fingers brushing the surface of the water, trying to steady the current.

Behind her, a figure moved in the shadows. A breath caught in her throat as the figure stepped into the moonlight. It was her closest colleague, the one she had trusted with everything. But there was something dark, twisted in their smile.

“Did you think it would be that easy?” they hissed.

Before she could speak, a jolt of energy surged through her body. The river roared to life, its calm surface shattering into violent waves. The ancestral dragon’s presence loomed over her, not in blessing—but in fury. Water coiled around her like a serpent, cold and suffocating. She tried to cry out, but her voice was lost beneath the crushing weight of betrayal.

Pain shot through her limbs, twisting and warping. She could feel her body changing, the river claiming her as its own. As the water surged around her, Afiyara's mind flashed back to the countless nights she’d spent preparing for this moment. She could still hear the whispered prayers of her ancestors, guiding her hands as she practiced the sacred rites. Every failure had only made her more determined, every misstep a lesson. She had sacrificed a lot for this. Tonight was meant to be her triumph, her legacy. But now, it was unraveling before her eyes. Her skin burned, her mind spinning with a thousand voices—her ancestors, screaming, warning, calling her name.

And then silence.

When Afiyara rose from the water, her eyes gleamed with something new. Her heart no longer pounded with fear, but with cold, simmering rage. She was no longer the woman she was—she had become something more. Something lethal.

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