Van Dijk steadied himself, lowering the hand from his nose, though a thin trickle of blood still ran over his lips. His crimson gaze hardened, but beneath the steel there was something else, confusion, perhaps even hesitation. "Me? Not understand?" He scoffed, but the sound lacked conviction. "Please… explain. I've already had a headache trying to comprehend how you're even alive."
Her laugh cut through the air like broken glass. It was sharp, bitter, nothing like the warmth of the sister he remembered. "Alive?" she echoed. "Is that what you call this? Survival?" Her sword dipped at her side, the faint glow dancing on the steel as if feeding on her contempt. "You truly don't understand a thing, little brother."
"Don't patronize me," Van Dijk said, his voice low, though the faintest crack betrayed him. His words carried no weight against the centuries in her tone.
