A Sister’s Guilt
Isla lay on the hard cot in her chamber, staring at the faintly glowing runes on the ceiling. The hum of Malrik’s suppressing magic pulsed in time with her heartbeat, an inescapable reminder of her imprisonment. Sleep evaded her; instead, Seraphine’s voice echoed in her mind, unrelenting.
“You don’t deserve to suffer for Malrik’s obsessions.”
Isla scoffed under her breath, her silver eyes narrowing as she turned on her side. How many times had Seraphine played the victim, wrapping her manipulations in a veneer of sincerity? She had lied before. She had betrayed before.
But…
Another memory surfaced, unbidden: a rare moment from their shared childhood. Seraphine had tugged Isla to the side during a family gathering, her young face alight with rare mischief. “Stick with me,” she had whispered, her voice brimming with confidence. “I’ll keep you safe, always.”
That promise, like so many others from Seraphine, had withered in the face of reality. Yet, the lingering echo of it tugged at Isla now, fracturing her resolve.
The door creaked open, and Malrik entered, his thin frame casting jagged shadows on the walls. The flickering torchlight painted his sickly complexion in harsh relief. His gray eyes locked onto Isla, his expression unreadable.
“What will you do with Seraphine after this… exchange?” Isla asked, keeping her voice steady, though her heart hammered in her chest.
Malrik’s lips curled into a slow, cruel smile. “Seraphine? She’s an afterthought, Isla. Her usefulness is… negligible. But perhaps she can serve as a warning, a reminder to others who dare defy me.” His voice dipped, laden with menace. “Or maybe I’ll find creative uses for her talents.”
Isla fought the bile rising in her throat. “She’s still my sister,” she said quietly.
“But tell me, Isla, does she truly deserve your pity? After everything she’s done to you?”
Isla didn’t answer. She couldn’t.
Malrik’s smirk widened. “You’re far more sentimental than I imagined. It’s charming, in a way.” With that, he turned and strode from the room, leaving the oppressive silence behind him.
Alone once more, Isla pressed a hand to her stomach, feeling the faint connection to the twins. Their presence anchored her, a flicker of light in the oppressive darkness.
Her thoughts turned back to Seraphine, to the brokenness she had glimpsed in her sister’s plea. Isla clenched her fists.
“Moon Goddess,” she whispered, her voice trembling, “give me the strength to do what’s right, even when it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”
