The Birth of a Demoness.

The Birth of a Demoness.

The flickering glow of fluorescent lights hummed through the empty office like a swarm of dying wasps.

Anna shut down her monitor. For a brief moment, the black screen reflected her exhausted face—pale skin, weary eyes, and dark hair pulled tightly into a severe bun. Beyond the window, a cold autumn rain lashed against the city, washing what little color remained from its endless gray streets.

The journey home passed in a familiar haze: the rattling rhythm of the subway, the sheen of rain-soaked pavement, the metallic clatter of keys turning in the lock of her cramped apartment.

But tonight, something was different.

In the far corner of her bedroom stood an ancient full-length mirror framed in blackened wood. From its depths pulsed a strange crimson glow, beating like the heart of some sleeping creature.

Drawn forward by an instinct she could neither understand nor resist, Anna approached.

The mirror no longer reflected the room.

Instead, its surface churned with dense, living mist.

Obeying a primordial call, she reached out. Her fingertips touched the glass, but it yielded beneath them like cold liquid mercury.

The mirror pulled her in.

In an instant, her drab office clothes dissolved into drifting ash. Darkness and molten scarlet fire coiled around her body. Across her skin, a gleaming crimson material began to form—smooth, radiant, and impossibly vivid. It flowed over every contour of her figure, weaving itself into an elegant scarlet battle attire. Shining leggings merged seamlessly with towering boots balanced upon razor-sharp heels that gleamed like forged blades.

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