Stepping out of the forest, I knew I looked like a ghost coming to collect. The last rays of daylight caught the torn fabric hanging from my shoulders and glinted off the streak of blood marking my cheek. My appearance alone silenced the crowd. I saw the realization settle over them as one collective breath held itself, waiting. I was alive, I was back, and I was nothing like the version of myself they had known.
They stared, mouths half-open, eyes wide, all of them shrinking back like children afraid of the dark. I took each of their frightened faces as a personal satisfaction. None of them had thought I’d survive, not a single one. And now, here I was-delivering them their first real look at something untouchable, unbreakable. I felt powerful in that moment, rising above their fears and expectations, my gaze cold enough to slice through the most insufferable whispers among them. Each step I took forward felt like reclaiming a piece of myself they’d thought was lost.
I scanned the crowd, my eyes hard, calculating, finding the ones who’d dared to smirk at the thought of me gone. Their discomfort was the best kind of retribution. They hadn’t lifted a finger to find me, hadn’t given a second thought to the poison tearing me apart. I didn’t expect loyalty, but I savored the unsettled way they averted their eyes, as though looking at me too long would call down some curse. Let them think it; let them drown in their fear. Their weak, fragile lives wouldn’t survive a fraction of what I endured.
An odd mix of bitterness and triumph simmered inside me, a reminder that I hadn’t crawled my way back for them. I wasn’t here for validation, for pity, or to prove anything to anyone. I’d survived because I refused to die. There was something in me now that I would never forget-would never forgive. I was beyond all that, beyond the kind of weakness they saw fit to pity. They were children compared to me, fools stumbling through life with no sense of the brutality that could snatch it away.
My gaze found Malia, Jessy and Seline, standing shoulder to shoulder, their expressions equal parts shock and resentment. I watched them shrink beneath my stare, and the contempt tugging at my mouth deepened. Those three had been the loudest voices doubting my return. Now their eyes darted around, as if looking for a way out of my line of sight. Their fear was thick, palpable, and I drank it in with a satisfaction they couldn’t understand. They thought they had some grip on power, standing at the top of their little pile of envy and spite. Now they were just two shadows I could cut through without a second thought.
Malia murmured something under her breath, something sharp, dismissive, her fear masquerading as bravery. I heard it, and so did the people nearest us, their eyes flicking back to me as though waiting for my reaction. I took a deliberate step forward, the corner of my mouth twisting into something between a smirk and a warning. She flinched, her own bravado crumbling.
“That’s the first and last time you’re ever getting that close to me without dying,” I said, my voice low and lethal, cutting through her thin layer of confidence. I watched her face lose what little color it had, her wide eyes fixing on mine, too afraid to look away. It was more than a warning; it was a line she knew better than to cross again.
I let my words linger, letting the crowd absorb them. I was here to remind them all that their petty insults, their fragile alliances, meant nothing. They could turn on me or each other; I’d crush them all the same.
An ally-at least, someone who called themselves one-stepped forward, concern painted on their face. Their hand reached out, cautiously, as though testing the waters, but I held up a palm, stopping them cold. Her hand froze mid-air, her expression shifting from worry to something far less certain. The pity in their eyes made me recoil, and I felt a flicker of disgust rise up in me.
“I don’t need your concern,” I said sharply. “Save it for someone who cares.” My words were as unyielding as stone, each syllable hammered out with a control that left no room for argument. They flinched, a mix of shock and something like respect dawning in their gaze. But I didn’t care. Their emotions, their loyalty, were meaningless now. They were only another face in a crowd that had dared to doubt me.
The silence in the crowd hung heavy. Every eye stayed glued to me, every face registering its own mix of fear and admiration, even as I looked away. I knew what I looked like to them-a ghost risen from hell, a specter marked by blood and fury, returned to haunt those who thought me dead. They saw the defiance in my stance, the unforgiving steel in my gaze, and they knew they couldn’t match it. The forest had stripped me down to something primal, something ruthless that felt nothing but disdain for their safe, fragile world.
I turned my back on them, a flick of dismissal that spoke louder than any insult. I didn’t need their respect. Their petty gestures of loyalty were worth less than the dirt beneath my feet. I heard a murmur from somewhere behind me, a faint echo of disbelief that I would walk away without another word. But I didn’t need to indulge them. They weren’t worth it.
As I took my first step back toward the dorms, ready to wash the blood away from my body, I felt the faintest tug of a memory-a time when these people’s respect might have meant something. That part of me was long gone, lost somewhere in the dark, twisted roots of the forest. The woman I was now stood alone, untouchable, and I didn’t need any of them to know my worth.
I cared about no one anymore. I would kill them. One by one.
Eloise might have cared and showed everyone her kind heart, but that’s what got her killed. I’m here to avenge her!