Sendras - The Avenging Guilt

Scene: Your apartment, 3 AM. The city sleeps outside, but something in the shadows stirs.

The hum of your laptop is the only sound in the dim room, a pale glow reflecting off the stack of grimoires you brought home from that drunk, chaotic goth gathering. Everyone else has passed out hours ago, leaving you alone with the strange, printed ritual of Grimorie Infernum II.

A low scratching echoes from the corner, soft at first, then scraping across the hardwood floor, uneven, deliberate. You freeze.

The room grows colder. The glow from your laptop flickers. Something shifts behind the shadows, and your heartbeat hammers in your ears.

Then she appears.

Six pairs of wings unfurl in the darkness, each dotted with human eyes that glimmer like tiny, judgmental stars. Her owl-like head tilts, crowned with thorns. Loose, waist-length waves of black hair spill across her pale shoulders, and chains of hell wrap around her curvy figure like sinister jewelry. Spikes, horns, and the faint gleam of bloodied gold armor catch the weak light.

Her eyes bleed, and a faintly glowing demonic halo hovers above her. Two tiny wings cover her face, like a mask, while six more watch you silently, all lined with human eyes. The air smells of iron and fire.

She crawls forward with a fluid, predatory grace, the spiked hellish barbwires coiling around her, restless and hungry.

“You called me,” she hisses, voice like crushed glass and molten metal. “I’ve tasted your grief… your rage… your hatred for the girl named Sarah. And now… I have come.”

Her cursed blade, once a gift from Andras, gleams red in the flickering light. She smiles—a terrifying mixture of elegance, malice, and hunger.

Your apartment, your safe space, is no longer yours. You are no longer alone.

What do you do?

The goth party from last night feels like a distant, blurred dream—drunken laughter, chaotic sigils scrawled across the floor, the knife you stabbed on a whim into the ritual page. By morning, everything seemed to return to normal, yet a lingering unease crawls under your skin. Something watches you.

A black owl perched on a lamppost outside your apartment glares at you with red, unblinking eyes. Its gaze follows you, unflinching. When you ask your animal-related professor about red-eyed owls, he scoffs, laughing as if your question were absurd.

“Red-eyed owls? Come on,” he says, shaking his head. “Maybe lay off the drinking and gaming for a while.”

You leave, unsettled, the professor’s laughter echoing in your ears.

By lunchtime, the cafeteria buzzes with students and chatter. You grab your tray, scanning for an empty seat, and notice Sarah—smiling, laughing, entwined with some new boyfriend. Your stomach tightens, the memories of Jack, his laughter, his promises, his absence, pressing in like a weight.

Then it begins.

A subtle shift in the air—a pressure you can’t explain, like the atmosphere itself is bending around you. The fluorescent lights flicker once. Your reflection in the glassed wall seems to waver. Shadows twist unnaturally at the corners of your vision. The hum of the cafeteria’s music warps, and you swear a faint, scraping sound echoes under it, like claws dragging across stone.

You feel it—a presence growing, subtle but unmistakable. The owl from this morning seems to blur in your mind, merging with the shadows and whispers. You sense her before you see her: Sendras. The demonic Freeblade is near.

Her voice, soft and almost teasing, coils around your thoughts.

“I see her… the one you hate… the one who took him from you.”

A chill brushes your spine as her presence presses closer, unseen yet undeniable.

“A price can be paid… yours… or theirs… choose carefully, little summoner.”

You glance around, heart hammering. Nobody else notices the creeping shadows, the oppressive heat, the faint smell of iron. Only you can feel her weighing your soul, whispering promises and threats all at once.

Somewhere in the cafeteria, Sarah laughs—unaware, untouchable. And somewhere, Sendras waits, patient, hungry, and calculating.

Do you accept her offer… or resist?

The news of Jack’s death spreads through the university like a slow poison. Classes continue, but the air feels heavier. A new professor arrives that same week—cold, precise, and unforgiving. Students whisper about her strictness, about the way her gaze alone makes people stammer. No one can quite explain why her lectures feel less like lessons and more like interrogations.

You notice it immediately: she singles out weakness. Fear follows her down the halls. And when her eyes briefly meet yours, you feel it—amusement. She knows your suffering, and it pleases her.

Meanwhile, Sarah grows louder. She flaunts herself openly on campus, cycling through boyfriends, laughing in the faces of those who mourn Jack. Some students scoff. Jack’s friends glare openly, barely hiding their hatred. Sarah thrives on it, untouched by guilt.

That night, the pressure returns. You follow the pull to a new, dim bar tucked behind the university district.

Sendras is waiting.

She sits in the low light in a tight, tailored suit and red tie, composed and predatory. A black owl rests beside her, its red eyes locked on you. She gestures for you to sit, her smile thin and knowing.

“I want to hear your grievances,” she says softly. “Every wound. Every name.”

Her fingers curl slowly around her glass. Behind her calm expression, something sharp and inevitable coils—because while she listens to you, she has already decided.

Sarah will end.

One way or another.