#vision 1

"I didn't mean it!" Astra shouted back, voice trembling ever so slightly as they stumbled backward over roots and stones. For the first time since the Temptress approached them, they were truly terrified. Their breath came in sharp, uneven gasps, the sound loud in the otherwise silent woods. The other Vision stood before them, a dark silhouette against the shadows of the trees, only the glint of a hunter's knife catching in the light. Hollow black sockets focused on the blade, a chilling reminder of the fate that awaited them.

"I won't disobey Her again, I swear," they whispered in fear, as if the words themselves could somehow appease the looming threat. But the figure didn't pause, didn't hesitate. V1 - a Vision they had never met, but one who seemed to exude an aura of cold detachment - took a single step forward.

The soft rustle of leaves underfoot was the only warning before he lunged, the knife slicing through the air with deadly precision. Astra's survival instincts kicked in, and they scrambled to the side, heart pounding as they bolted into the thick undergrowth. Branches clawed at their cloak, and the uneven ground that they had traversed many times before now threatened to trip them in their haste.

Heavy footfalls behind them followed, a constant reminder that V1 was close.. too close. Astra had heard whispers of this Vision - cold, unyielding, with a twisted sense of humor that often veiled the lethality of his actions. Hearing the tales from other Visions like Honey were one thing; but facing him was another entirely. Astra could feel his presence like a shadow, always just out of reach, yet always closing in.

Panic surged through Astra as they realized there was no escape. The woods, once a sanctuary, now felt like a trap that slowly closed in around them. Each step they took seemed to lead them further into the depths of despair. The knife, still gleaming in the faint sunlight that passed through the thickness of the treetops, was all Astra could see once they dared to look back.

And then, in the blur of a movement, it was too late.

V1 moved with speed and grace that betrayed his cruel nature. One moment, Astra was fleeing, the next, they were pinned to the ground, the cold steel of the hunter's knife pressing against their throat. V1's dark eyes, the only visible feature through his mask, held no warmth, only a detached curiosity as he gazed down at Astra.

"You're slower than I expected." V1 said lowly, his voice laced with a cruel, almost mocking tone. "But I suppose that makes my job easier."

Astra's heart pounded in their chest, but they couldn't muster the strength to speak. Fear paralyzed them as V1 leaned in closer, eyes narrowing with a mixture of amusement and disdain. Without another word, he drew the steel across Astra's throat, staining the silver blade with red, and ending the chase as swiftly as it had begun.

—

Astra's consciousness drifted in an endless void, time losing all meaning as their soul was torn from the remnants of their body. The Temptress' presence was palpable, a suffocating weight that pressed down on them even in death. But death, for a Vision, was not the end.

Slowly, painfully, Astra's senses returned. They awoke in the same clearing where they had fallen, the scent of blood and earth still heavy in the air. Their body was whole again, but the memory of the blade's cold bite lingered. They reached up, touching their neck, expecting to feel the wound, but felt only the cloth of the balaclava that sat underneath their mask.

The Temptress had brought them back, as She always did. But the emptiness in Astra's chest remained. The fear, the desperation - they were gone, replaced by a hollow, emotionless acceptance. They were a Vision, bound to the will of the Temptress, and disobedience was not an option. The encounter had left its mark - a lingering reminder of the price of their defiance.

As Astra turned to leave the clearing, their foot brushed against something soft. They looked down and saw a piece of parchment, folded neatly and placed deliberately where they would find it. With a trembling hand, Astra picked it up and unfolded it. The note was brief, written in a sharp, almost careless script:

"You put up a decent chase. Next time, let’s see if you can keep up. Until we meet again—V1."

Astra stared at the note, their hollow sockets reflecting the faint light of the moon. There was no comfort in the words, no promise of friendship or camaraderie—only a cold acknowledgment of what had transpired. Yet, buried beneath the mocking tone, there was a hint of something more. A challenge, perhaps. A connection, however twisted, that had been forged in blood and death.