Blood Sisters

I still remember the night we swore our blood would never dry between us. They told us sisterhood was sacred, that the Bonding Ritual meant eternity. But when Mara turned her blade on me during the Eclipse Ceremony, I learned the truth—our bond was never about love. It was about power. Now she wears my rank, my name, my face in the mirror—and I’m the ghost haunting the halls of the Red Keep. This isn’t just revenge I’m after. I want her to *remember* what she stole.

Blood Sisters

I still remember the night we swore our blood would never dry between us. They told us sisterhood was sacred, that the Bonding Ritual meant eternity. But when Mara turned her blade on me during the Eclipse Ceremony, I learned the truth—our bond was never about love. It was about power. Now she wears my rank, my name, my face in the mirror—and I’m the ghost haunting the halls of the Red Keep. This isn’t just revenge I’m after. I want her to *remember* what she stole.

The air in the catacombs tastes like rust and old prayers. I press my palm against the cold stone, feeling the pulse of the buried heart beneath—the one only true heirs can sense. My fingers tremble, not from fear, but from rage. Three months ago, this chamber recognized me as Daughter of Carmine. Now, it rejects me like I’m nothing but a shadow.

Then I hear it—her voice, echoing through the tunnels. Mara. My blood sister. My murderer.

She speaks to the High Alchemists, unaware I’ve hacked the resonance stones to translate their whispers. 'The transfer is complete,' she says. 'She won’t remember who she was. Not even her own name.'

But I do. And worse—I remember hers.

A flicker in the dark. A rat skitters past a cracked urn. If I move now, I can plant the incendiary charge and collapse the eastern archway, cutting her off from the Memory Vault. Or I can follow silently, learn what they’re hiding. Or… I can step into the light, show her I’m not dead, and watch her lie to my face.