She gripped the ancient relic tightly, feeling the power running through it. Her friends stood behind her, anxiously waiting for her to store it in the protective wooden box laced with siren’s blood that they acquired in a grueling chess game with a disgruntled giant. The bloody game had left most of their team injured but the former prince, Ian, had lost a leg. The relic’s power throbbed in her small grasp, a voice spoke her true name in her mind.

Phoebe, daughter of the forgotten!, the relic’s voice echoes in her mind as it reminds her of her purpose. Her birthright.

“Magenta, put that monstrosity in the box already! Why are you just standing there?!” Diana, the muscular huntress, snapped, itching to get out of here and back to the fresh air above.

Phoebe, not Magenta, studied the relic with a gleaning grin tugging at her lips. What a shame that they won’t be leaving, Phoebe mused as she stared at the relic which fit so well in her palm. The relic, a small bird statue encrusted in rubies, gleamed with a shine reminiscent of a moonless night, its eyes luminating with a predatory gaze. The relics' corrupted desires and need for hell-bent destruction melded well with Phoebe’s vengeful one’s. It was getting restless, screeching for a taste of blood and behind her stood the most desirable platter…but it will not eat just yet.

“Is it messing with her mind?” Ian asked in a voice filled with anxiety.

Phoebe could just tell he was running a hand through his luscious golden locks and had to resist rolling her eyes. She heard him take a timid step closer and she turned, cloaking her deceit with a show of feigned concern.

“I’m fine, just admiring its exquisite craftsmanship,” she said, fighting against time to achieve her destiny.

“Here, in this crumbling temple?” Interjected Clover, a tall mage with healing powers.

Phoebe looked over at Clover with studious eyes. “You know once we leave here everyone will clamor for our find. Please, just give me another minute.”

Phoebe turned around, hiding the view of the relic from her friends with her body. The relic is no longer screeching for blood but calling her name with a desperate desire for usage.

Daughter of the forgotten, let us bring fire to this world. Let us bring about your birthright!

She brought it close to her lips, then, with a sudden gusto, tilted her head back, swallowing it whole like a ravenous snake.

For a moment, she felt herself unraveling, every imprint of her is erased and rewritten by the relic’s dark power. Heat filled her. Her vision blurred. There was a loud ringing noise in her ear, a signal of her rebirth. There’s lava in her pure-blood veins. She closed her eyes, body heavy, feeling like it’s falling from the clouds like heavy rain. She does not fall, strength from her pureness keeps her from falling down. At least, that’s what she told herself as she took heavy breaths and kept her posture straight.

Her eyes opened, burning like her hatred for those not like her and she stares at the ground that now has the red shine of the relic’s rubies. Confused, she’s terrified by the light as the relic’s power consumed her like the sweetest delight, reshaping her into the embodiment of her people's lost values.

In her heart, the hatred instilled in her before she could speak shone like a fire setting a house ablaze. Phoebe’s mind drifted to her mother’s constant reminders.

“Our values have been forgotten,” her mother would say as she brushed her fingers through her hair as she held onto her tight. “They give too much to those who aren’t worthy. They’ve forgotten our principles but you my dear, you will restore our greatness and erase the outsider’s corruption on our land.”

Phoebe’s people, the Forgotten, prided themselves on their pure bloodlines, intermarrying to preserve their ancestral features. It was a woman’s duty to give herself to their revered men even if they were on a shared family branch. At night, the forgotten men would go for a hunt, ropes in hand, fire in the other, looking for those of the modern kingdom and reminding them of what society has forgotten. Women weren’t allowed on their hunting nights but that didn’t stop them from upholding their society’s principles well.

Drifting back to the present, Phoebe’s blood boiled like a captured outsider’s body in the community’s giant pot. Whenever those of the modern kingdom stumbled upon them, they would be imprisoned, tortured, and then they would become their meal. Phoebe always wondered why they would eat something so impure but her father had waved her question away.

“We clean the meat well and anything we consume is instantly cleansed for that is how our purity works.”

As her father said that, Phoebe thought of the raw chicken meat her aunt consumed years ago and how it had left her dead days later. Was there a certain element that triggered their purity? Did they have to believe with all their hearts?

Phoebe believed in the forgotten’s cause. She’d sacrifice anything to see if it comes to fruition, even herself. As the relic’s power devoured her, Phoebe felt herself evolving, her humanity draining away as she morphed into an elevated creation. Her skin got paler, eyes turned all white, and her hair resembled freshly fallen snow.

It was getting closer. The full merger between her and the relic’s dark power. Yet, something odd happened just when her transformation was nearing its end. She felt a sharp feeling in her back straight through her chest. Looking down, Phoebe saw the point of a blade protruding from her chest. Her head turned and she saw Diana who looked at her with fury in her eyes.

“We will not be forgotten,” Phoebe sputtered out.

Diana’s eyes narrowed in recognition. “You’re one of those…”

Diana’s teeth gritted, continuing. “You will never be remembered.”

Just as she said that the crumbling temple collapses on them all.