The Weight of Power

Afiyara stumbled away from the river, the night air thick with the aftermath of what had happened. Her body felt foreign, her senses heightened to an unbearable degree. Every thought, every emotion around her pressed in like a thousand voices in her head. She clutched her temples, trying to quiet the chaos.

She looked around for those who had betrayed her but they were gone. "How could they?!!!!!", she thought in anger. No, she did not have time for this. She had to go back to her tribe. When she arrived, the villagers' reactions were immediate. Whispers turned to gasps, and gasps turned to screams. They scattered at the sight of her serpentine form, the power radiating from her unmistakable and terrifying. Children hid behind their parents while elders shook their heads in disbelief.

She paused, her eyes lowering to catch her reflection in a small puddle beneath her feet, and the image that stared back at her was unrecognizable.

Her once-soft black eyes now glowed with a fiery, golden hue, a serpentine slit cutting through each iris like a predator's gaze. Her skin, once smooth and dark, was now textured with faint scales that shimmered under the moonlight, running down her arms and legs in intricate patterns—beautiful, yet terrifying. Her hair, once braided and adorned with beads, had turned into a writhing mass of serpents, each one hissing softly, alive and aware, mirroring her every thought and emotion.

Though she still had her human legs, they shifted with an unnatural grace, coiling and uncoiling slightly as if tethered to the ground by something more ancient, more primal. Her nails, now sharpened into claws, glinted dangerously in the faint light, and a faint mist rose from the ground as her feet touched the earth, a subtle reminder of the dark power she now commanded.

She called out to them, trying to explain, but her voice no longer sounded like her own—it was deeper, laced with the weight of something ancient, something cosmic. Her people did not see Afiyara anymore; they saw a monster.

However, amidst the chaos, the elders faces had changed. They were calm now but their faces were still stern. The eldest woman, her eyes gleaming with wisdom, stepped forward, her expression grave but unwavering. “Afiyara,” she began softly, “you bear the mark of the ancients. We knew this time would come, but it is not for us to guide your every step. This power is yours to understand and to wield. The serpent’s gift can bring salvation or ruin—it is you who will decide.”

Afiyara stood silent, her gaze hard and unreadable. Inside, however, her heart pounded with fury. A gift? What? Like a blessing? All she could see was another obstacle. Another burden. The serpentine form that now covered her body felt like chains—an unwanted reminder of everything that had gone wrong.

Without a word, she turned on her heel, ignoring the confused murmurs of the crowd and the elders’ concerned calls. Her feet lead her back to the river where it had all begun, the water glistening under the moonlight. It’s as if the pull of the current called her back to where her transformation started, where her fate had been sealed. Anger surged through her veins as she stood at the river’s edge, staring into the black depths.

Why me?” she hissed through clenched teeth. “Why am I the one who must bear this curse?”

Her voice carried into the night, unanswered by the world around her. She clenched her fists, feeling the raw power coil inside her, wild and untamed. The river rippled, its surface disturbed not by the wind but by something deeper—something ancient. She tried to calm herself, but the emotions and new powers bubbling within her only made the water’s turmoil worse.

As she knelt by the water’s edge, her reflection distorted. Suddenly, the air grew thick, and the river began to churn violently. The surface, revealed a pair of glowing eyes—sharp, ancient, and filled with untold power. The ancestral dragon, its immense form rising from the depths, locked its gaze onto hers.

The dragon’s eyes gleamed with ancient knowledge. “You have tasted power, but you have yet to understand its price,” the dragon's voice echoed in her mind. "The serpent in you is restless, untrained. You must learn to control it before it consumes you. This path is not easy, and not all who take it survive."

Afiyara stared up at the dragon, her heart racing but her face betraying no fear. She felt its presence—the same presence from before—but this time, her anger fueled her determination. She was not here to listen passively. “I am not your puppet,” she snarled, her voice a sharp contrast to the calm authority she once sought from the dragon. “If you expect me to bow down to fate, you are wrong.”

The dragon’s eyes narrowed, and a low rumble echoed from its throat. It did not speak in words, but its voice filled her mind like a roaring waterfall. “Power is never a gift nor a curse—it simply is. But how you wield it, Afiyara… that choice is yours. If you cannot control it, then it will consume you.”

The dragon’s eyes flashed, and suddenly Afiyara was overwhelmed by visions—the chosen of the past who met the same fate she did. She saw their rise and, inevitably, their fall as they succumbed to greed and uncontrolled power. The vision showed her the monstrous forms they took, their legacy one of ruin and destruction.

Afiyara’s fists clenched, but this time, the words struck deeper than she wanted to admit. The dragon’s presence stirred something within her—a challenge, a dare. It did not offer comfort, only a cold truth.

“But your lineage is strong,” the dragon said, softer now, though its anger still simmered beneath the surface. “You can still ascend—but only if you learn control. Master yourself, Afiyara or be consumed like the others.

The vision faded, leaving her alone again, but now more aware of the burden she carried. The power within her was fierce, and she could feel it pushing at the edges of her control. Every breath was a battle between restraint and surrender. She tried to quiet her mind, to listen to her ancestors as they had once guided her but the voices in her head were too loud, too conflicting.

As she tried to control the serpentine energy coursing through her veins, she lashed out, accidentally turning a patch of earth to stone with a glance. The reality of her power shook her to the core. The price of ascension, she realized, was not just power—it was losing the very humanity she had clung to.

She continued to kneel at the water’s edge, staring at her reflection. She no longer saw the woman she once was. The ancestral dragon’s warning hung heavy in the air: "Master yourself, or be mastered." She had to accept it, for now, but she swore not to bend to the will of fate. Only her own will.

She stood up and turned back, heading to the direction of her village.

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