VALORIA WILDEROSE
I wake again in the middle of the night, stirred from sleep by an unknown force, staring up at the ceiling.
The night is cold, still, silent — and for the first ti Azrael is beside , sleeping. His soft snoring echoes into the empty quiet around us.
Sothing unknown beckons to , making the space suddenly uncomfortable, making crave fresh air far from the four walls of this room.
In a trance, I slide out of the sheets, silent enough not to stir Azrael, slip into my slippers, and leave through the door.
The entire building remains silent even after everything that’s happened with Ronan.
It’s in a dead-like state, yet I get the subtle feeling sothing is amiss — the once peaceful aura replaced by chaos.
It’s just a feeling.
I stroll down to the ground floor and walk through the front doors into the gardens, taking a familiar path by mory to the place I tried to escape through weeks ago.
Back when I believed my life was over... when I finally summoned the courage to leave and do sothing with my life. Before the choice was stolen from .
Sothing has pulled here, forcing to relive my final monts, how naïve I’d been back then.
And now, with so much happening in the span of three weeks, my eyes have opened. My opinions have changed.
Things I thought I hated, views I used to frown upon... I find myself questioning all of it. Questioning everything I’ve ever been told.
I remain deep in thought, staring up at the stars, until I hear footsteps drawing closer — leaves crunching beneath feet.
I turn to the side toward the approaching figure, exactly like that night. And just like before, a cloaked figure stands in front of , face and form shrouded from sight.
A small, knowing smile graces my lips.
Unlike that night, I’m void of fear entirely. Sothing about facing death’s door more than a couple tis numbs the instinct to run.
And maybe I owe a bit of that fearlessness to the man sleeping in my bed. It’s strange how the thought of him fuels an unexpected confidence inside .
"I h-had a f-feeling that you’d sh-show up at so point," I say to the shrouded figure.
My killer.
They raise their hand slowly, pulling the cloak off their face — revealing deep dark auburn hair, so luscious and distinct it could only belong to Marcella.
My heart doesn’t ache the way I expected, confirming the truth. Maybe it’s because so much has happened in the last few days that acceptance ca easier than grief.
She looks enraged, furious, her eyes stained with tears. A blade slips from beneath her cloak, glinting in the night’s faint light.
"You... you ruined everything. Ronan is dead because of you, and now Father..." Her voice breaks, refusing to continue as more bitter tears spill.
I raise a brow.
"W-What hap-pened to Father?"
Did Azrael do sothing? Is that where he went off to earlier without speaking?
Her hateful eyes lock onto with sharpened vengeance.
"Like you would care!" she laughs bitterly, appalled by my curiosity.
Then she doubles down.
"You’re a viper. A parasite. You should have never been born. You should have never existed!" She steps closer, her words venomous, aid to stab and sha and hurt more than I’ve ever been hurt. "You’re filth that doesn’t deserve life. You should’ve been grateful for everything we did for you, yet you stabbed us in the back. You ruined our family. You killed Ronan — your own mate — because you were jealous no one wanted to love you. And you tried to take Father down too, because you’re an insatiable void of pain and destruction that consus everything in its path."
She pauses to breathe, watching , waiting for the familiar collapse — the sha, the agony, the tears. Waiting for to suffer. Cry. Crumble.
It hurts, yes, but this ti the pain is different.
This ti, I’m hurting because it took so long to see her for what she truly is. Because it took becoming numb inside to finally realize I wasted years of my life on my family.
My eyes are finally open — and just as Azrael said, I was a fool.
I inhale deeply, exhale slowly, gathering every painful word she’s ever spat at ... everything I let define ... and I breathe it out, letting it all go.
"No, Marcella." The words fall easily, without breaking, without fear.
I’ve seen too much to tremble before the sad, broken little girl standing in front of .
"You people did nothing for — nothing but tornt and hate all my life, blaming for things that were never my fault."
Her eyes widen at my lack of stutter before narrowing into a glare. She steps forward again, shoulders squaring to appear intimidating.
"Shut up."
I shake my head.
"Maybe hours ago I would have. But not anymore. I’m tired of holding onto hope that you’d finally leave alone. I’m tired of being docile and giving you power over ."
"You ruined our family! You destroyed everything!" she screams hysterically, swinging her dagger, demanding I cower... demanding I fear her.
"Is that what you told yourself? The excuse you gave for why I needed to die?"
She clenches her teeth. "You should have died long before now. Maybe our family would still be together!"
She lunges at with the blade.
We topple over, rolling across the ground like two bickering children locked in a deadly struggle for power, until she ends up on top of — overpowering .
Her blade aims straight for my chest, and I struggle to keep it from making contact with every ounce of strength I have left.
"Why do you hate ?" I ask her for the first ti, voice strained through the struggle and the gasping for air.
I look her in the eye, searching for the answer.
She trembles above , shaking with emotions that overwhelm her to the point that hateful tears spill from her eyes.
A single drop falls onto my cheek. And for the first ti, I truly see her — my little sister, the little girl yearning and desperate for sothing.
Just as I have been all my life.
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