Transmigrated as the Villainess Princess - Chapter 254

Chapter 254: This is the Start (4)

The night was still, cloaked in the quiet hum of the med-bay’s systems and the distant hush of wind skimming past the window panels. Outside, the stars drifted in the ocean of black, blinking in and out like forgotten memories.

The city beyond was silent, reeling from the earlier chaos, but inside the dimly lit room, time seemed to move more slowly. Ahcehera sat unmoving beside Eros’s bedside, her posture rigid yet oddly calm.

She hadn’t shifted for hours, eyes locked on the man sleeping soundly, his wounds finally showing signs of sealing. His face was no longer taut with pain. Instead, it carried a rare serenity she hadn’t seen in him since they were children.

She should have felt peace. Instead, her body was tense, her thoughts spiraling. The images from earlier wouldn’t leave her mind. The portal, the Zergs, the dark shard pulsing like a second heart, and the strange presence that lingered like a whisper behind her skull.

Something had awakened in the world, and perhaps, within her too. She’d brushed it off as fear or instinct. But now, in the stillness, something was stirring. Her hands twitched. At first, she ignored it. She flexed her fingers slightly, thinking it was just numbness from sitting too long.

Then she felt it again, an odd warmth building in her fingertips. Not a familiar warmth, not the comforting heat of fire or the rush of adrenaline. This was different. It felt like it was rising from her bones, weaving through her veins, coiling toward her skin.

She looked down slowly. Her fingertips were glowing. A deep crimson shimmer leaked from the edges of her hands like curling smoke, too soft to be flame, too fluid to be light. It didn’t burn, nor did it sting. But it throbbed gently with a rhythm that didn’t match her heartbeat.

She raised one hand slightly, watching in quiet disbelief as the red aura pulsed outward in small waves, almost like it was breathing. It was beautiful in a way that terrified her, like something meant to stay buried had remembered her name.

“What…” she whispered.

Her voice trembled, but no sound followed except the quiet beep of medical monitors and Eros’s calm, steady breathing. The aura grew. Slowly, it crept along her wrists and up her forearms. Tiny sparks flickered along her skin like embers, only to dissolve before they touched her clothes.

The shimmer spread wider, extending toward Eros. Her first instinct was to pull away, to stop it, to smother it, but something inside her refused. It didn’t feel malicious.

It felt… familiar.

The aura curled over the bed like a veil, wrapping gently around Eros’s form, brushing across his chest, his shoulders, and settling like a blanket. He didn’t stir. Not a twitch. The aura didn’t harm him, didn’t wake him, didn’t seem to affect him at all. It was as if it knew him.

Ahcehera’s breath quickened. Her heart pounded against her ribcage, and she forced herself to remain calm. This wasn’t magic. At least, not the kind she had lost years ago when her powers had vanished after the Western Mission.

No, this was something else entirely. It didn’t flow like mana.

It wasn’t drawn from the natural world, or the ley lines, or the stars. It felt like it came from within, deep within her core, where something had been sealed, forgotten, perhaps never even awakened until now. The red energy surged once more, like a pulse.

A vision.

It wasn’t an image she saw with her eyes, but one that slammed into her thoughts like a crashing wave. A city on fire. Stars falling like tears. A woman’s voice screaming a name, her name, but distorted, as if echoing across dimensions. And then…

Chains.

Heavy, red chains, glowing with that same crimson light, wrapping around something in a darkened chamber, something massive, something alive, something angry. Ahcehera snapped back, gasping, her hand clenched so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

Sweat dotted her forehead, her pulse roaring in her ears. The aura had receded slightly, shrinking back to her hands, but it had not disappeared. It still lingered, flickering like a shadow on her skin. She stood quickly, stumbling back from the bed, eyes never leaving her trembling fingers.

“What are you?” she murmured to herself.

She took deep, steadying breaths. Her optical brain attempted to scan her vitals, but the display flickered wildly, unstable readings, energy spikes, and false alerts. The system couldn’t make sense of what she was emitting.

“Override scans,” she ordered under her breath. The neural response tried again, but this time it failed completely.

[Unidentifiable power source detected. External influence unknown.]

The warning floated across her interface in stark red text. Ahcehera turned her eyes toward the window, the stars beyond offering no answers. She needed help. But not from the military. Not from the scientists who would poke, prod, and label her like an experiment.

She needed someone who understood this, whatever this was. But the only people she could think of were long gone. Those who studied forbidden origins, lost dimensional histories, and ancient entities that were spoken of only in fragments and whispers.

Then, a thought struck her.

The shard.

What if the shard wasn’t the cause of the rift?

What if it had simply been a response, a calling card, left behind by something recognizing her awakening?

She bit her lip, the possibilities storming her thoughts like wildfire. Her blood buzzed with this newfound force. Her instincts screamed at her not to reveal it, not yet. Not until she knew what she was dealing with.

Eros shifted in his sleep again, his brow briefly furrowing before relaxing once more. The red aura had already faded from his body, leaving no trace that it had ever touched him. But Ahcehera felt it. The connection.

The aura had reacted to him. It had embraced him. And more importantly, it hadn’t harmed him. That meant something. A light chime from her interface signaled a new incoming message, this one encrypted in a signature she hadn’t seen in years.

An old contact from the Arcane Vaults. She hesitated before opening it. The Vaults were where magic and technology converged, and those who once dabbled in hybrid theory were exiled or executed under the Interstellar Codex.

She opened the message.

One line.

[The Crimson Chains have stirred. You must not let them remember who they once were.]

Her blood ran cold. The Crimson Chains.

Ahcehera stood still, the silence pressing against her eardrums. No answers. Only warnings. She moved back toward Eros, her hands still faintly tingling with the residue of that strange energy.

Carefully, she sat down, exhaling as she brushed a hand along his blanket, grounding herself in the simplicity of the moment. For now, she would keep the secret. But she could feel it, this red force within her. It wasn’t finished awakening.