She could feel the power surging through her being. The power to make those who hurt her pay. To show them what it was like to be hurt by someone they trusted.
The anger that the last hurt brought had awoken something inside of her. It had brought out a beautifully wicked thirst to hold infinite power over someone. She would show those sniveling little wenches what true fear was.
The nails she had before were gone. Gleaming black talons had taken their place. And from her back grew the deepest darkest red wings. She let out a maniacal laugh as she saw her reflection in the shards of the broken mirror. There was a word that kept pulsing in her brain.
“Hasira, Hasira,” she cackled.
“ I am true Hasira,” she said as a scream ripped from her throat,” Those who have scarred me,” she paused and then whispered maliciously, “ Watch out.”