Sister.
Selene froze. The word was like a ghost, echoing through the quiet tent. She hadn't heard that word in years—not like this.
Not from her.
They hadn't been sisters in a long time.
Cliona gestured to the chair across from her, her golden hair shimmering in the dim light. "Sit," she said, her voice as smooth as ever. "Let's have tea. Just like the old days. Before... well, before everything went to ruin."
Selene didn't move at first, her body taut with unspent energy. Her gaze flicked to the delicate tea set on the table, the steam curling from the porcelain cups.
Finally, she stepped forward and sank into the chair, though her body remained rigid, like a coil wound too tightly. "You shouldn't be here," she said, her voice low and sharp. "You should've stayed hidden. You were happy with Theron. You had a life."
