Ashes of the Elite

It hit me all at once. Like a blade drawn across my skin, sharp and undeniable. The whispers slithered into my skull, curling around my thoughts, tainting them black. And in that moment, deep in every corner of my broken self. I knew.

Hate.

It wasn't pain. It wasn't focus or willpower. It was hate. Burning, festering, all-consuming. A force that twisted my insides, that made my teeth clench and my muscles coil. My trigger was born of something sinister, something that would carve its place into me like a parasite. A weapon forged from my loathing, from the bitterness I carried like a second soul.

Regret gnawed at me. I knew what this meant. What it would cost me. There was no way to control something like this without it controlling me in return.

Then the whispers surged, their voices coiling through my head like vipers.

"They fear you. They tremble. A touch, a whisper, and you could make their nightmares real."

I swallowed hard, fingers twitching at my side as every shadow seemed to stretch toward me, feeding off the storm raging in my chest. The fear in the air was intoxicating, thick enough to taste. My skin buzzed, my body a live wire of power aching to be let loose.

"You could show them. You could make them kneel in truth, not in false reverence. Make it real child of light. They deserve it."

I turned my head, and there they were.

Standing just beside me, close enough to touch. Close enough to unravel me.

Mother. Father.