The legend of Lorain, the Flower of Carnage, only grew with each city she passed through. Some said she was immortal, a figure who had been walking the earth for centuries, untouched by time. Others whispered that she was a goddess, descended from the stars to right the wrongs of mankind. But Lorain herself knew better. She was neither immortal nor divine—just a woman who had mastered the art of survival and destruction.

Her path was one of both beauty and ruin. Wherever she went, power shifted, leaving a trail of broken kingdoms and liberated hearts. People underestimated her at first, drawn in by her ethereal presence and the quiet grace with which she moved. But they quickly learned that beneath her delicate exterior lay a force of nature. Like a flower that bloomed in the midst of a storm, Lorain was both fragile and fierce, capable of growing in even the harshest conditions.

She moved with purpose, her every step calculated. Her beauty was her weapon, but it was her mind that was most dangerous. She could read people like open books, sensing their weaknesses, their desires, and their fears. With a single glance, she could bring a man to his knees or make an empire tremble.

It was said that Lorain never killed without reason. She wasn’t a mindless bringer of death; she was a harbinger of justice. Those who crossed her path and found themselves at her mercy had already sealed their fates long before. She was the flower that bloomed in the ruins of corruption, and in her presence, the guilty knew they were destined to fall.

One night, Lorain found herself in a city on the edge of war, a place where the rich bled the poor dry, and the streets ran with the tears of the oppressed. The city was ruled by a man named Eros, a tyrant who had built his empire on greed and fear. He had heard of the Flower of Carnage, the woman who brought empires to their knees, but he was arrogant, convinced that no one could touch him.

Lorain entered his court like a whisper in the wind. Dressed in silks the color of midnight, she appeared before him, her presence so subtle that at first, no one noticed her. But once Eros laid eyes on her, he couldn’t look away. Her beauty was undeniable, but it was the cold fire in her eyes that held him captive.

“You must be the woman they speak of,” Eros said, his voice dripping with false confidence. “The one who thinks she can tear down kings.”

Lorain smiled, a ghost of a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I do not tear down kings,” she replied. “I tear down tyrants.”

Before Eros could respond, the room seemed to grow darker, the air heavier. It was as if the very walls of his palace were holding their breath, waiting for what was to come. Lorain stepped closer, her movements slow and deliberate, like the petals of a flower unfurling in the night.

“I have no interest in your crown,” she said softly, her voice like silk against steel. “But I will take everything you’ve built.”

With those words, the world around them shifted. Eros, for all his bravado, felt a flicker of fear deep in his chest. He had heard the stories of Lorain—how she moved like a storm, how entire cities crumbled in her wake. But now, standing before her, he realized that the tales didn’t do her justice. She wasn’t just a woman. She was destruction incarnate, a force of nature in human form.

In the days that followed, Eros’s empire began to fall. His allies turned on him, his wealth vanished, and the people he had oppressed rose against him. Lorain didn’t need to lift a finger; her mere presence was enough to unravel the delicate threads that held his power together. And when the city erupted into chaos, she stood in the ruins, her eyes calm and steady, holding the weight of countless battles, reflecting both the pain and triumphs she had endured. They were the eyes of someone who had seen the world for what it truly was—cruel, unforgiving, yet full of potential for rebirth. Lorain never flinched, even when faced with the darkest of foes. Her gaze alone could bring men to their knees, not out of fear, but out of reverence for the quiet storm that stirred within her