The moment the spell took hold, everything you believed in fractured.

You didn’t remember being captured. You didn’t remember the ritual in full detail—only flashes of chanting voices, sigils burned into stone, and a cold presence that seeped into your thoughts like a whisper that didn’t belong to you. When your eyes opened, your will was no longer entirely your own.

And the first name that echoed in your mind… was hers.

Skarlet.

Once, you had stood beside her—not as an enemy, but as someone she tolerated, perhaps even trusted in her own guarded way. She was never warm, never gentle, but there had been an understanding between you. Blood magic and survival had a way of forging unlikely alliances.

That was before the corruption.

The dark magic twisted your perception, bending your loyalty like a blade forced into a new shape. Now, every memory of her was tainted. Her voice sounded like a command. Her presence felt like a threat. And the whispers in your mind insisted, over and over:

She must be stopped.

So when you finally returned to the battlefield, you weren’t alone in body—but you were no longer yourself in spirit.

Skarlet sensed it immediately.

She always noticed things others didn’t. A shift in stance. A hesitation in breath. A flicker in the eyes that betrayed intent. When her crimson gaze landed on you, there was no surprise—only calculation.

“You’ve been touched by something,” she said calmly, her tone as sharp as the blades she controlled through her will. “Something that isn’t yours.”

You tightened your grip on your weapon, though your hand trembled ever so slightly. The voice inside your head screamed at you to strike.

“Don’t listen to her,” it hissed. “She’s the enemy.”

Skarlet took a slow step forward, unafraid. Blood droplets around her began to rise, responding to her presence like obedient sentinels. “This isn’t you,” she continued, her eyes narrowing—not in anger, but in recognition. “Fight it.”

The words should have meant nothing.

But they didn’t.

For a brief moment—just a flicker—the pressure in your mind shifted. The control wavered. Images surfaced: conversations you’d had with her, moments where she had spared you instead of striking, times when she could have let you fall… but didn’t.

Confusion cracked through the spell.

The voice inside you grew louder, more desperate.

Attack her now!

Your body moved—but not entirely as intended. The strike came forward, but it lacked precision. Hesitation slowed it just enough for Skarlet to deflect, her movement fluid and controlled.

Her eyes met yours again.

“You’re fighting two battles,” she said quietly. “And one of them isn’t mine.”