Tempest of Vengeance

"Nothing?" Her laughter was gentle, nearly melodic, a mockery of the gravity of the question. With a delicate precision, she plucked a strand of golden hair from her cheek and leaned forward, her eyes shining like fragments of sunlight on steel. "Your sister was insufferable. Always in the way, faking innocence as she crept into spaces where she had no business being.". The King began to favor her over me, and. well." Her golden eyes narrowed, a spark of easy cruelty flickering within.

"I don't share well."

"Sharing?" Natasha's voice trembled, breaking under the weight of shock and horror. "You. you killed her out of jealousy?"

The head maid's face was impassive, serene in its cold malice. "If telling you lets you sleep tonight, then yes.

Leon advanced, a slow, calculated step that seemed to suck the light from the room, leaving the atmosphere heavy and oppressive. His eyes, dark and unflinching, held hers with a ferocity that could shatter stone. "You murdered her sister," he told her, his voice low and contained. "And you had the temerity to enter my room. Either you are recklessly brave, or appallingly stupid.

"Maybe a little of both," the head maid said, her lip curling up into a smirk, steady and calculated. Her hand floated over the hilt of the dagger at her hip, a promise of violence unspoken. Then, a teasing glance drifted over Leon—the edge of his jaw, the turbulence riding behind his eyes. "And you… you're far scarier than you think you are."

But Natasha couldn't concentrate on them anymore. Their words, their faces, even the sadistic laughter on that face, all melted into one harsh pulse thumping in her head. One name. One admission. One memory smile. Kill.

It engulfed her.

Her aura burst out, a furious, unbridled tempest. The air grew heavy, full of moisture that curled and writhed like living things, coalescing into a violent whirl around her. Cold, blue fire ignited in her eyes, biting and unyielding. Sorrow transformed into rage, sorrow coaxed into raw, merciless power.

The head maid's smirk dropped, caught mid-curve.

"Don't you fear death?" Natasha's tone had changed, darker, sharper, shaking yet unyielding. "Then let me reveal to you what it means to drown in it."

"Wait—Natasha!" Leon's hands clamped onto her arm, desperation carving across every feature of his face, but the power churning beneath her skin was wild, a tempest even he could not quell.

"Don't stop me!" Natasha's voice broke, raw and jagged, the anger and sorrow twining together until it was something almost grotesque. Her fingers shook as magic curled at her fingertips. "She murdered my sister! How can I desist? How could you even consider stopping me, Leon?"

Leon's gaze never wavered, calm but charged with an urgency that cut through the tension. "Because you'll destroy yourself," he said steadily. "Right now, you're not thinking clearly."

"I am thinking!" Natasha bellowed, her chest heaving like a tempest. "My sister is dead! What part of that is not obvious to you?!" Her tears dropped unencumbered, each of them crackling as they landed against the thin warmth emanating from her magic, sending wisps of steam drifting on the shiny floor.

From the side, the Head Maid clicked her tongue, folding her arms with a sharp elegance. "Touching," she said, her voice cool, almost teasing. "I didn't expect you'd still be this sentimental."

That single, casual remark was all it took. Natasha moved with a speed that blurred her form, her grief and fury fueling her motion. Water materialized from the ground like living steel, distorting and folding into twin blades that attacked the Head Maid with deadly accuracy. The blonde responded, but barely. A soft glow of golden energy burst around her, a protection sigil drawn into her uniform in an instant.

The twin blades hit the shield with a blinding crack, destroying it in an instant.

The strength of the blow sent the Head Maid flying back, crashing through the doors of the chamber and into the marble wall of the corridor. The sound echoed, a giddy crack, and she coughed, feeling the blood lining her lips.

"Lady Head Maid!" the guards outside cried, charging forward in a rush, but Leon held up a hand, his face set hard and unyielding. "Stay back, everyone," he ordered, the sharpness in his voice not open to dispute.

He took a step forward, glare fixed on Natasha, the turbulence of her bereavement on the brink of explosion, and knew the moment was on the verge of escalating into complete chaos.

But Head Maid, indomitable even as agony twisted her frame, heaved herself up, quivering arms laboring under her weight. Red streams trickled from the corner of her mouth, staining her uniform. "Don't stand there like donkeys! Shield me!" Her words crashed out like a command and a challenge both, hard enough to make the guards flinch.

The corridor exploded with motion. Armored figures dozens strong propelled themselves into the fray, blades unsheathed, shields up, their footsteps echoing off the marble as the passageway dissolved into a tempest of steel and purpose. The air was charged with tension, heavy and oppressive, every beat a tick towards impact.

Natasha emerged completely into the light, her aura blazing out around her like fire. Every inch of her blazed with rough, uncontrolled sorrow and anger. "Come, then," she said, voice icy, sharp, cutting through the mayhem. "Let us see if you can guard a killer.

The Head Maid doubled over, her hands grasping her abdomen, eyes flashing with both terror and resolve. "You can't kill me, Natasha," she snarled between clenched teeth. "You forget the blood contract we bear. Attack me directly, and it will shred your soul to pieces."

Natasha's lips curled, not with laughter, but a bitter, shattered smile that bore the burden of loss. "You really believe I care about my soul now that you've stolen hers?" The words dripped like venom, every syllable thick with pain and accusation.

For a moment, Head Maid hesitated, a flicker of doubt passing across her face. But Natasha didn't wait. Her hand lifted, and the air about it hardened, slicing like a sword. The temperature dropped, the air moisture condensing into a churning, glowing storm that wrapped around her like a living blade.

"You belong to me?" Natasha breathed, the voice both gentle and deadly.