Remi’s eyes fluttered open to a world of winter fog, a blank plain like fresh snow. Warmth pooled in her palms like a small hearth. She forced her head to turn, the motion heavy as wet silk. It was Flan—her little sister—pressing warmth through their joined hands like spring sunlight leaking through frost.

“Ah—how fabulous—what a perfect specimen! The experiment will finally succeed!” The voice slithered in, oil on cold water, and snapped the quiet like a reed.

Joy at reunion shattered like thin ice underfoot. Remi saw Alpha in the corner, wriggling with glee like a snake in tall grass, and the truth crashed down like sleet.

Caught again by that bastard. Rage rose like wildfire, shame trailing behind like smoke. I failed. Again. I dragged Flan into danger. Again.

Alpha swanned over, hands fanning before his chest like a puppet master’s strings. His fingers twitched, but when he saw Remi awake, he stilled.

“Ah—you’re up, my dear treasure. A once-in-millennia body, I see. Even a daze spell only held you that long—like mist against a cliff.”

“What are you trying to do? Are gods so quick to spit on their promises?” Her words were sharp as broken porcelain; her breath ran cold as river water.

Alpha didn’t flinch. Pride lifted his chin like a crane watching the moon. “Gods keep promises. But gods also break the ones that don’t matter when something we like shines like jade. I’ll throw a few third-rate gods’ souls on the pyre as decoys and dodge the Accord’s blade. Besides Delta, who cares if the rest die? Their ashes aren’t my concern.”

Calm slid over Remi like night rain, thin and chilling. So he’s outside the pact now. No leash, no law, no way to threaten him. And whatever he’s about to do needs the Accord muted. That means his next move means a knife at our throats—mine and Flan’s.

Her gaze turned on Alpha like thunder rolling toward a lone tree.

“Little cutie, don’t glare like a tiger in dry grass,” he sang, sugar over rot. “It’s just a fun experiment. I won’t hurt you much.”

“Tch. You think I’m dumb enough to trust a liar who fooled me twice?” Her voice snapped like bamboo in wind.

“Ah-la-la—how heartbreaking—sob,” he mocked, a teardrop drawn with chalk. “Am I so untrustworthy? Well, whatever. We’ll start now. It’ll tickle a little, like a feather on your skin. Endure, and it’ll pass.”

He stepped out the door, leaving Remi and Flan bound to the cold slab, two moths pinned under glass.

“Then… experiment countdown.” The loudspeaker in the corner crackled, an iron-throated crow.

“Three—”

Panic surged first, a red tide under moonlight. Flan will get hurt. I have to move. I have to do something.

“Two—”

Think, Remi! Brain, move! Anything useful—anything! Her thoughts whipped like banners in storm wind.

“One—”

Flan! Enough thinking. Move!

“Start!”

Remi threw her weight over Flan, a shield of flesh and will, a mountain shadow over a sapling. Above, a magic circle bloomed, petals of pink light unfurling.

The beam fell like a column of dawn-rose fire. It struck Remi’s back, and something inside clawed for the surface, a beast tearing at a cage.

Pain bit first like a hot brand. Then it howled. Not “a little tickle,” not even close. It was raw fire licking bone, muscles peeled like thin bark, a butcher’s hand on living meat. If this is “tickling,” the word “agony” must have fled the world like a hunted deer.

“Ah-la-la—little cutie, don’t do that,” Alpha cooed, voice as light as drifting ash. “You’ll ruin the experiment. We can redo it, sure, but it’ll hurt. Don’t waste pain.”

“Shut up!” The shout tore out like a hawk. “If I can’t bear this, what kind of sister am I?”

“Such enviable sisterly love,” he sighed, starved admiration over cold iron. “Then… I’ll turn it up a bit. Please endure.”

His finger skated the air like a brush across rice paper. The circle’s glow flipped from pink to crimson, a peony drowned in blood.

The first agony had been torn flesh. Now it was lightning rammed through the body, a river of fire under the skin. Countless unseen blades bit into every cell. Nerves carried the storm home with no dam, no break, pain stacking like stones in a cairn.

Remi’s mind cracked like thin ice. Her body collapsed over Flan, limp as a cut cord. Control fled; every nerve refused her like soldiers after a rout. Her body felt no longer hers, a boat cut free from its mooring.

So this… is dying? No pain. No weight. No touch. A white void like winter without wind.

Hate it. Hate this empty sky. I failed again… again I couldn’t protect you… Flan…

Tears slipped from the corner of her eye like pearls rolling off jade. They fell onto Flan’s face and traced down her cheek like rain on apple blossoms.

Seeing Remi drop, Alpha sighed, disappointed, a theater-goer denied the final act. “So that’s it? I hoped for a year’s best tearjerker. A pity.”

He swung the door wide and came to the bedside, movements smooth as ink on silk. He flipped Remi off Flan and reached for Flan, ready to set her just so.

His hand hadn’t touched Flan when Remi’s fingers clamped his wrist, a trap springing from still water.

“What!”

Shock flared across his face, brief as lightning at dusk. He checked her eyes—no light in them, only dusk and salt. Reflex, then. A corpse’s last twitch.

He tried to pry her grip loose. Remi’s hand tightened like a vise. A crisp “crack” split the room, bone snapping like a dry twig. Then his wrist ballooned like an overfilled gourd and burst in a wet pop, blood a scarlet spray against white.

Alpha stepped back fast, calm as stone, no wince, no pain, as if the hand belonged to a stranger across the river.

But his eyes sharpened like blades pulled from scabbards. Wariness rose off him like heat from black rock.

“Hey! What’s wrong with you right now?”

A voice answered in tatters, each word dragging like a chain through sand. “You… touch her… and… try me.”

Alpha’s mouth twitched, a spider tugging thread. He glanced at Remi, thoughtful as a scholar over a puzzle. Looks like the experiment half worked. I meant to anchor the power in Remi and let the little girl steer. Now the wheel’s jammed somewhere in between…