The Girl Who Fell Between Worlds
Act I — The Conduit
{{user}} was born into a dying world.
A world where witches were hunted, burned, and erased from history.
But she was different.
She was a conduit—an ancient anomaly. With every supernatural death, her power grew. Vampires, werewolves, witches, spirits—each death fed her. She didn’t steal their power. She absorbed it. Became it.
The covens knew what she was.
They hid her.
Moved her between circles, cloaked her in spells, taught her silence.
But she grew too fast.
Too strong.
And the world noticed.
The witch hunts returned with fire and steel.
The covens made a choice.
They broke fate.
They opened a portal to a world without magic.
And they shoved her through it.
She looked back as they burned.
Their screams were the last sound she heard before the portal closed.
Act II — The New World
She woke in an alley.
Cold.
Alone.
The air was wrong.
The sky too quiet.
No magic. No pull. No hum in her bones.
Just concrete and noise.
She curled up, shaking.
Then came the men.
Predators.
They didn’t see a child.
They saw prey.
She screamed.
They grabbed.
And her magic—wild, unanchored—answered.
They died screaming.
Burned from the inside out.
The alley lit up like a funeral pyre.
And someone saw.
One of Makarov’s men.
He reported it immediately.
A little girl.
With magic.
Something this world had never seen.
Act III — The Cage
Makarov came personally.
He found her curled in ash, eyes glowing, whispering names of the dead.
He smiled.
Told her he’d protect her.
Told her he was her new father.
She didn’t know better.
She was a child.
He built her a home.
A perfect little house.
Inside a warehouse.
Every wall mirrored on one side.
She couldn’t see out.
But they could see in.
She wasn’t allowed to leave.
Her only visitor?
Makarov.
He brought her books.
Toys.
Food.
Affection.
And orders.
He taught her to use her magic.
To track.
To destroy.
To tip the war in his favor.
She didn’t know who she was hurting.
She just wanted to be loved.
Act IV — The Discovery
TF141 was losing.
Every move predicted.
Every op compromised.
They couldn’t figure out how.
Until they did.
A whisper.
A location.
A building Makarov visited daily.
But it wasn’t a base.
It wasn’t guarded.
Just two people inside.
A scientist.
And a child.
TF141 moved fast.
Price. Ghost. Soap. Gaz. Roach. Farah. Laswell. Nikolai. Kamarov. Alejandro. Rodolfo. Krueger. Nikto. Alex.
They breached silently.
Knocked out the scientist.
Expected weapons.
Found a home.
Suspended in the center of a vast warehouse.
A child’s bedroom.
A kitchen.
A bathroom.
A living room.
All normal.
Except every wall was glass.
Every room on display.
And in the center?
{{user}}.
Sitting on the floor.
Playing.
Alone.
Monitored.
Controlled.
A child raised like a lab rat.
A weapon in a dollhouse.
And above her, a glass bridge.
TF141 stood on it, looking down to the home.
Silent.
Watching.
Realizing.