Chapter 220

"He saved me!" Miriel groaned, her voice cracking from fervent, almost religious intensity. She pushed her arms upward, hands clasped together in impassioned prayer. "He raised me! He is my light!! He is THE ONE!!!"

Her eyes blazed, cheeks flushed and breathing quickened, her grip on Lyssandra's arm tightened.

"He saved me from death," Miriel continued, voice trembling in passion seemed almost inappropriate. "He pulled me from the burning ruins. He cherished me. He fed me when I had nothing." Her tone carried reverence went beyond gratitude into something deeper, more desperate. "He gave me a purpose when I had none."

She shook Lyssandra's shoulders gently, then suddenly pulled back, surprising force behind the movement. "You will know his benevolence. You will understand he is the savior." Her voice dropped, thick with conviction, and her split-face smile widened, gurgled, the transformation unmistakable.

Her grip tightened on Lyssandra's shoulders when she pushed, knocking the larger woman backward onto hard-packed road. Lyssandra stumbled, catching herself.

"You will understand!" Miriel insisted, looming over her with those strange, zealous eyes. "His benevolence is absolute. You will serve him, or you will be cast aside."

She stood there, trembling but resolute, her silver hair falling around shoulders like a dark halo. The air around shimmered, an otherworldly energy rippling through it.

Lyssandra's eyes widened in surprise. "What the hell is happening to you?" scanning Miriel's status. The zeal, the fervor, the almost fanatical devotion and it was unnatural.

[Status: Possessed]

The system confirmed what her eyes already told. Possession. Not just any possession — the soul was still intact, but something had latched onto Miriel like a parasite, warping her devotion into something dangerous.

"Pull yourself together," Lyssandra said, placing her hands on the Saintess's shoulders. "You are not doing alright."

But Miriel pushed back harder, her grip iron, expression almost feral. She gurgled, voice distorted by the possession. "You will know. You will understand. He is everything."

Lyssandra sighed, a long, weary exhale. The situation was deteriorating quickly. "You left me no choice then."

[Soul Vault] activated.

Lyssandra's eyes narrowed. Something blurry and intangible began to be pulled free from Miriel's body. A ghostly, translucent form gradually took shape in the air between them.

It slowly became transparent enough for the eyes to distinguish a humanoid shape, a woman's silhouette shimmering with sickly green glow. A voice rang out from the spectral form, guttering and wet, like it had to push words through water. "S-stop… I-I will do anything you want. Just s-stop. It hurt!"

"Either you get out of her body or I will enslave your soul, you wicked devil!" Lyssandra grumbled.

The spectral form shivered, the green glow flickering. Something about the skill's activation was eating her.

As the skill intensified, both Miriel and the spectral form began to writhe in agony. Miriel let out a pained wail, her body trembling violently while the skill's effect threatened to pull not just the invader but her own soul out.

The spectral form, a woman's shimmering silhouette, shrieked – sound of pure, unadulterated terror. "STOP! IT HURTS! I'M LEAVING! I SWEAR!"

Seeing the dual effect, Lyssandra made a split-second decision. The moment the spectral form was completely pulled free, she canceled the skill.

The suction effect vanished abruptly.

Miriel collapsed forward, completely spent, a pained gasp escaping her lips. She slumped against Lyssandra, her body still trembling from the aftershocks.

"Are you okay?" Lyssandra voiced laced with concern.

Miriel's face was a contorted mask of agony, her brow beaded with sweat pouring down like waterfall. After a short moment, her breathing evened out slightly, the trembling subsiding. She let out a long, shuddering sigh.

"I… I'm fine…" Miriel whispered. "That feeling… it was horrible. I never want to experience it again."

She nuzzled closer, seeking comfort. Lyssandra stroked her hair gently, cradling the Saintess against her chest.

"Which one?" Lyssandra murmured. "Being possessed by a ghost, or getting your soul ripped out of your body?"

Miriel shuddered, burying her face deeper. "Both!" she sobbed, voice muffled against the soft fabric of Lyssandra's robe. "It felt like… like my nails, my hair, my limbs… everything was being pulled out by a giant pair of tongs! Slowly! So agonizingly slow! I hate it!"

Her body trembled anew at the memory, fresh tears welling in her eyes and spilling onto Lyssandra's chest as she nestled between her breasts for comfort.

"It's alright, I'm here, little mouse. Don't you worry."

She looked up from the sobbing Miriel to the spectral form, who now floated aimlessly in the air nearby.

"And you," Lyssandra commanded, her voice hardening. "Who are you? Where are you coming from? Why did you possess her?"

The spectral form flickered unsteadily. She looked like a poorly drawn ghost, her humanoid shape shimmering and unstable.

"I-I-I don't remember much," she stuttered, her ethereal voice full of confusion and fear. "I was… asleep. For a long, long time. Then I was… woken. Pulled into her. I swear, I didn't mean to! It was just… instinct!"

The ghost wrung her flickering, translucent hands, her face a mask of sorrow. "I didn't know. I didn't mean to hurt her!"

Her form began to flicker faster and faster, becoming more transparent, like a bad signal about to be lost. The edges of her being dissolved into motes of faint green light.

"What… what's happening to me?" the ghost gasped, her voice fading.

"What's your name?" Lyssandra pressed.

"My… my name is... Thea?" the spectral whispered, her voice barely audible.

"I think you're about to be permanently gone."

"Gone?" Thea echoed, the word filled with horror.

"Yeah," Lyssandra said, a touch of finality in her voice. "Like gone. Disappear for good."

Thea's flickering face twisted in pure terror. "Oh no! Please! I don't want to die! I have something very important to do! I can't die yet! You have to help me, please!"

She drifted closer, her translucent hands reaching out, beseeching.

Lyssandra held up a warning hand, her expression unreadable. "Stay away."

Thea, the ghostly woman flickered before her, on the very verge of annihilation. Lyssandra saw her predicament, the desperation in her transparent features.

"You have two choices," Lyssandra said, leaving no room for argument. "First is to simply end. Fade away into nothing. It's clean. Simple."

Thea recoiled from the words, her entire being shaking at the thought. 'No!' her mind screamed. 'Not that! Not oblivion!'

"Second…" Lyssandra continued, "… is to be bound to me and continue to exist."

The ghost stared, her flickering eyes widening in a mix of confusion and hope. "Bound? What… what do you mean, bound?"

"The meaning is in the words," Lyssandra said, her patience clearly waning. "Accept it, or don't. I don't particularly care."

'What do I do?' Thea's thoughts tumbled in panicked whirlwind. 'Why is everything so complicated? I was asleep… then I was here… I have to… do something… what was it? Something important… but I can't remember!'

She looked at her fading hands. The light was dimming, green glow becoming faint. She could feel the pull of the end, the cold emptiness of non-existence.

'She's offering me a way out… but what does 'bound' mean? Slavery? Servitude? But it's better than… than this.' She looked at the woman before her, the one who had pulled her from her host. The fear was still there, but the alternative, complete and utter erasure was far more terrifying.

Her internal struggle was fierce. Desperate pride warred against an even more desperate fear of annihilation. To be unmade, to cease to be, that was the true horror.

With a final, agonizing decision, she surrendered. It was the only way.

"I…" Thea whispered, her voice nearly gone. "I'll… accept. The second… choice. Bound…"

The word was barely more than a sigh. But it was enough.

Lyssandra nodded curtly before activating [Soul Vault]. This time, however, instead of pulling, the effect reversed. A tendril of shimmering, ethereal energy shot out from her chest. It wrapped around Thea's flickering form, weaving itself into her very being, stitching her into Lyssandra's own soul. It was a binding, a tether. An anchor.

Thea gasped, her form stabilizing, becoming sharper and more defined. The green glow softened into steady, white light, mirroring Lyssandra's own energy. She felt the connection, a permanent, unbreakable link. She was no longer just 'Thea'. She was part of something greater. A piece of a whole.

And it felt… right.