Devil Gambit

"Theryn!" Saelari’s voice rang out, sharp and breathless.

The transformation had ended—or had it?

Theryn stood there, still and silent. Her form hadn’t grotesquely shifted.

She hadn’t grown wings or fangs. But something fundamental had changed.

Her golden irises were gone, replaced by a glowing, ominous red.

And etched across the pale canvas of her back, visible beneath her torn cloak, was a new sigil—Dracula’s mark, pulsing faintly like a sleeping heartbeat.

"Theryn!" Saelari called again, more urgently now.

Theryn slowly turned her head.

"Yeah?" she answered casually, almost playfully.

But her voice...

It was still her voice.