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The sky weeps with the colors of a dying day, streaks of molten gold and burning crimson spilling over the horizon like a bleeding wound that refuses to heal. The house looms against the shadows of twilight, its ancient stone walls bristling as though alive, resisting the inevitable crawl of night. In this fleeting hour, where light and dark wrestle for dominance, the air tightens. A fragile silence clings to the air, stretched taut like a string ready to snap.

The foreboding omen is not lost on me.

With the inevitability of a blade meeting flesh, she steps outside.

Lara.

Beside me, Sylvie stiffens, her breath hitching as if the very sight of her sister steals the air from her lungs. Even before the sun fully surrenders to the horizon, the light struggles to touch her, retreating as though repelled by her presence. She is a chilling vision—too perfect, her beauty sharpened to a cruel edge, something sculpted from frost and shadow—from decay.

From death.

Her eyes, once mirrors of Sylvie’s warmth, are now crystalline and unfeeling. They catch the dying light like shards of splintered glass, reflecting none of it. Every step she takes is methodical, measured, like a predator’s prowl, her sharp heels clicking against the steps as she descends.

“Lara…” Sylvie whispers, barely audible, her voice fragile as antiquated porcelain, trembling in absolute disbelief. Her sister’s name hangs in the air, a prayer or plea, its fragility underscored by the oppressive silence it’s met with.

Lara’s gaze is fixed ahead, unwavering, cutting through the gathering gloom, her expression a mask of disdain.

When she reaches the bottom of the stairs, she stops, the silence around her deepening like the hush before a storm. For a moment, all is still. The air seems to hold its breath, and even the shadows seem to cower in her presence—a prelude to violence.

“Hello, sister,” Lara says, her voice a blade honed to destroy. “Miss me?”

The venom coiled in that one, singular word, sister , twists Sylvie’s features with an agony I cannot shield her from. It’s a deliberate wound, a rejection that leaves Sylvie visibly shaken.

“Lara, it’s me,” Sylvie says, her voice cracking under the weight of hope and desperation. She takes a tremulous step forward, her shuddering hand outstretched.

“Stop.”

Lara’s command halts Sylvie mid-step, the sharp syllable a leash. Her lips curl into a smile, but it is anything but kind. It mocks rather than welcomes.

“Is that all you have to say to me? After everything ?” Her voice drips with venom-laced malice, each word a dagger aimed directly at Sylvie’s heart. Her disdainful smile twists, contorts into a sneer as she shakes her head.

Sylvie falters, her brows knitting together as she struggles to respond to the person her twin has become—cold, heartless, and immeasurably bitter. “I—I’ve been looking for you. I thought?—”

“You thought I was dead,” Lara interrupts, her voice cold and unyielding. “No, Sylvie. You didn’t think. You didn’t fight. You didn’t care.”

She steps closer, slowly closing the space between the two of them, and my instincts flare to life.

“That’s not true, Lara,” Sylvie protests, her voice trembling as tears spill down her red cheeks. “I never stopped looking. Never stopped trying. I did everything I could. I nearly went insane trying to figure out how to get you back. I put myself in harm’s?—”

“Lies!” Lara’s shrill, accusatory voice cuts through Sylvie’s protest. She takes yet another step closer, her movements sharp and measured, each one radiating hostility. “You left me. You betrayed me. Betrayed our family.” She cocks her head to the side as if thinking. “You were happy to be rid of me, weren’t you, sister?”

The accusation lands like a blow, and I watch Sylvie flinch as if visibly struck, trying to hold onto a reality that is quickly slipping through her shaking fingers.

“I didn’t betray you,” Sylvie whispers, her voice barely audible, as if even she doesn’t believe herself anymore. Shock is written on her face as her eyes widen, as her lips quiver.

“Didn’t you?” Lara’s tone drips with scorn, with pure, unbridled hatred. It’s such a sharp, stinging contrast to who I’ve heard of her to be. “While I was rotting away, suspended in some fucked-up other realm, you were here, hiding like a coward, like the shell of a human you’ve always been. Hiding with him .”

Her gaze instinctively snaps to me, her black eyes narrowing with uninhibited hatred, her scorn palpable. I meet her glare without flinching, though I feel the weight of her anger like a tangible force.

“Lara, please,” Sylvie pleads, stepping forward again, nearly completely closing the space that remains between the two of them, causing me to step forward in her wake. “Whatever they told you, it’s not true. They are the reason you were stuck in time. They took you and tried to use you against?—”

“Enough of the lies!” Lara’s voice rises, piercing and callous as it reverberates with raw power. She gestures toward me with a disdainful sweep of her hand, her nails gleaming like talons in the fading light. “The Solstice Society showed me the truth, Sylvie. They told me everything they told you, you’re just too insufferable to believe it. Vampires killed our parents— his kind killed them, yet you stand here defending him. Defending your vile actions.”

Sylvie’s breath catches, her hand flying to her mouth as though the words physically struck her. As if she cannot believe just how wrong her sister has things.

“No,” she whispers, shaking her head. “That’s not true. They’re lying to you just like they lied to me. They are twisting everything. They are trying so hard?—”

“Lying?” Lara laughs, cutting Sylvie off once again, a bitter, hollow sound devoid of joy. “They opened my fucking idiotic eyes, Sylvie. While you were here playing house with a revolting monster, they showed me what I was meant to be. They gave me purpose beyond anything you could ever even conceive.”

The two stand, mere inches apart, Sylvie looking as if she’s lost everything and everyone she has ever loved, and Lara radiating nothing but disdain and contempt. The way she glares at Sylvie makes even my blood boil, causes a shift in my demeanor to the point that I’m nearly about to lose my carefully constructed poise. I move to stand directly next to Sylvie, placing an arm tightly around her waist to show her I am here, and I am not going anywhere. Lara scoffs as her eyes travel from where my hand rests against Sylvie’s hip back to my own gaze.

Lara’s voice hardens, taking on an edge of unshakable conviction. “I am their weapon now. And I will rid this world of the plague that took everything from us. That you seem to have been able to look past because a monster is the only godforsaken fuck who will ever even glance your way. I will make every single one of them pay for ruining us.”

Her gaze locks onto mine, her expression twisting into something cruel and vengeful, those blackened eyes striking something deep within me. “Starting with you.”

I step forward now, firmly placing myself between her and Sylvie. My movements are calm, unhurried—a stark contrast to the storm violently brewing around us.

“This is not your sister,” I say.

“She is,” Sylvie insists, her voice trembling with desperation.

“No,” I reply, my gaze never leaving Lara. “Not anymore.”

Sylvie’s hand clutches at my sleeve, her grip tight with desperation. “She’s my sister, Lucian. I can save her. I have to?—”

“You can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved,” I say, my tone firm but not unkind.

“ You can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved.” Lara twists her face and mocks me, tilting her head from side to side as she speaks, like she’s putting on a performance. She laughs again, the sound sharp and grating. “How noble. Protecting her, even now. But it won’t matter. You can’t stop what’s coming.” She pauses as if to think, but quickly adds, “None of you can.”

Her words are a distinct promise of violence, and the air around her seems to hum with restrained power.

Sylvie makes a move to come around me, to face Lara again, but I stop her in her tracks, unwilling to allow it.

“Sylvie,” I say, turning to her. “Stay behind me.”

But she doesn’t listen. She steps forward again, her hand outstretched, her voice trembling with emotion.

“Lara, please,” she begs. “This isn’t you. This isn’t who you are.”

“Who I was ,” Lara corrects, her voice cold. “I’ve changed, Sylvie. And so have you. Only one of us for the better.”

Her gaze flicks to me, her lips curling into a sneer. “I see it now. You really are weak. And he’s made you weaker.”

Before Sylvie can respond, a voice I’d hoped to never hear again cuts through the air, dripping with command.

“Lara!”

Amara.

Her shrill voice is a sharpening blade in the moment. The sound sends a chill down my spine. I glance toward the edge of the property, and there she stands, just beyond the barrier of the warding spell—a dark, imposing figure shrouded in shadow.

She wasn’t supposed to return.

Amara’s presence is a shock to us all, her sudden reappearance a reminder of the power she wields. She stands just outside the invisible boundary, her posture regal and unyielding. Her voice, when she speaks again, is laced with authority.

“Lara. Come!”

Just like one would beckon a hound.

Lara hesitates for a moment, her expression flickering with something unrecognizable—perhaps doubt, or perhaps something deeper.

“Lara,” Sylvie whispers, her voice trembling with hope. “You don’t have to go with her. You can stay. We can figure this out. I will do anything to help you, to make you see…”

But Lara doesn’t respond. Her expression hardens, and she steps away.

Amara’s lips curl into a faint, triumphant smile as Lara crosses the boundary, leaving us behind.

“You made the wrong choice, Sylvie. I will always be one step ahead of you,” Amara says as they walk away, their backs to us. “This is only the beginning,” she sing-songs on the wind, flicking one hand in the air, her voice carrying the weight of a promise. “You’ll see soon enough.”

And with that, the pair disappear into the gathering darkness, leaving Sylvie and me watching, our friends standing stone-still around us, and a lingering feeling of complete and utter doom filling our chests.