The ring was finally finished.

With the guidance of the small deities, she was able to acquire the metal she needed. A rare element only found in the deepest caves of China, it was something countless people lost their lives to find. The man she received it from had begged for mercy, shouting out information she didn't need. Illegal trafficking, the names and numbers of black-market dealers, special deals on the best ways to blackmail politicians. When he brought up secret intelligence about the students and faculty in Francois-Dupont High School, she dropped him.

His screams caused a shiver to run down the god's frail forms. "You're supposed to be a hero!" He had shouted. "You chase Akuma victims! Not criminals!"

It had been centuries since their holders had done something as vile as this. Tikki didn't understand where this anger, this violent rage had come from. Marinette was never set on revenge, but that seemed to be the only thing driving her forward right now.

They had no power in stopping her. They didn't know how to console the girl, and that in itself was dangerous enough. Using the lucky charm normally wouldn't bring back a striking rendition of Chat Noir, but combined with the damaged ring, her power grew and she was able to do just that.

After seeing the Lucky Charm, Marinette had become obsessed with repairing the ring. The true reason was never spoken, but Plagg and Tikki had their suspicions. The powers of the combined Miraculouses were almost limitless, and had only been wielded a couple of times before. Everytime had ended in tragedy.

Marinette's parents were becoming increasingly concerned. She talked less than before, ate less, slept less, moved less. The only thing she did was fiddle with the new ring on her finger. The too-big ring, that looked like it had been lying in a river for the past few centuries. Tom had suggested they bring it to a jeweler to get it repaired, but Marinette's dark glare had silenced him.

Another thing they worried about: she had become so irritable that she snapped every time she opened her mouth. It always seemed to be a struggle, as if her lips were sewn together and she popped the stitches when she moved her mouth. She had paled, her hair losing its volume and her eyes sinking into her face with every passing day. Her parents attempted to bring her to a doctor, but she refused to move. They were still considering a therapist, but the action of moving her forcefully seemed to become less and less appealing. Though she seemed frail, Marinette was becoming stronger than she ever had been before.

The metal casing, to repair the ring, came from another man. This man was genuine, though his store sold false replicas of Miraculous jewelry pieces. Ladybug had appeared during the night, able to open the door with a flick of her hand, appearing inside and taking the casing they used to form the molten metal into a ring. Tikki strongly advised talking to him during the day, asking to borrow it, but Marinette ignored her. Plagg knew why. She couldn't talk to a stranger yet. She wasn't mentally stable enough for that.

Once the metal was molten, she poured it into the casing and over the ring. She sealed it and waited for the next instructions.

Tikki and Plagg moved forwards without a word. They channelled their energy into a bright ball of light before settling it down over the casing. A large hiss sounded, and the casing top popped off, revealing the newly repaired ring. Marinette picked it up, ignoring how it ignited her skin into pain, and slipped it on. She called the commands, and a large purple energy swirled around her. She glanced in the mirror, and looked away.

The new outfit was complete. She had a red torso, no more spots. The protective black leather covered her shoulders, top chest, and neck, sliding down her back, quads, and wrapping around her knees, leading to her feet in steel tipped boots. Her mask was fully black, though her eyes stayed the same as usual. Her hair was back in a tight knot, tied with a red ribbon. As she turned, she noticed the muscles directly underneath her shoulder blades were marked with two large red spots. An image flashed into her mind, a special species of ladybug that startled people who saw it.

Chilocorus stigma. C. Stigma. Twice-stabbed.

A fitting name. She remembered that stigma meant a mark of disgrace.

C. Stigma had been unleashed.

She walked out to her balcony, breathing in the cold air. The darkness was back, the night time feeling like a heavy blanket, weighing down on her, crushing her to the ground. It was a familiar feeling. She experienced it every second of her torturous existence.

She once again considered letting go, letting the darkness consume her, making life easier on every being she associated with, including herself. But that was no longer an option. She wasn't the weak girl she had been two weeks ago. She was C. Stigma. And C. Stigma had a purpose for existing.

She jumped into the air, letting the darkness part around her as her eyes narrowed in on the Agreste mansion. She grabbed for her yo yo and swung it forward, cutting through the air like a carving knife, moving silently, invisible to the human eye. Her nose picked up the smell of blood. It smelled sweet, reminding her of jokes and laughter and flirtatious attempts. Of loyalty and power and protective instincts. Another smell. This one neglectful, hateful, sour. Hawkmoth's blood. The smell brought a feeling she couldn't describe, something she didn't recognize.

Retribution, she realized.

She entered the broken window, seeing the familiar gashes stained with blood, the broken shackles lying in the middle of them. The room was clear of the decaying flesh, but the smell remained, along with the broken shards of glass and plaster. The shadows moved to her left, and she turned, seeing a tall figure holding a cane emerge from the darkness. She didn't move, but felt the hatred inside her build up, up, up.

He didn't say a word until she flicked her yo yo and it wrapped around his neck. His eyes widened as she unhooked her staff, his staff, and used it to pin the man to the wall. She tightened the string, and his eyes bulged, the veins in his temples straining.

"Did you mourn?" She whispered, edging closer to the man. He gasped, but the sound he made was unintelligible.

"Do you know what I am now capable of?" She asked, flexing her fingers. The man didn't answer. His throat was turning red in the places the string squeezed, and the sour tang of his betrayal pierced the air. "Before this all happened, I was told that I have the power to change the present, future, and past. Is that why you wanted it so desperately? Is that why you decided it was worth murder? How badly did you mess up that you needed to kill people in order to change what happened? I'd bet your life it wasn't as bad as what you did to fix it."

He was able to shake his head slightly, signalling that, no, it wasn't as bad. The gleam in his eye told her he would do it all over again.

"So I was right. I win that bet then." She yanked the string, and blood spurted onto her new mask. She extended the pole, and a loud crunching sound was heard, followed by the dripping sound of flesh and blood to the already stained floor. She released the pole and string, letting it hang off his now lifeless body, and turned around. She closed her eyes and released a sigh.

"See, now you've paid. Though I still think more suffering will come your way." She flicked her wrist, and a purple light burst into view. A swirling vortex appeared, and she stepped forwards.

"Oh, right." She turned around, facing the body still pinned to the wall. "You never deserved your son. He was a gift to this world, just as you were a blight on it. See you in hell." She walked into the vortex, and the world went black.

The darkness was back, but this time it didn't try to take her. It bowed as she traveled through time, parting as she walked through it.

She had become it's master.