But as her thoughts drifted further, another image began to take shape.
Selene Virelyn.
Elegant. Ethereal. Cold-eyed, but undeniably graceful.
Nysalea's chest tightened.
She knew who held Riven's heart.
She didn't need it spelled out.
The way he looked at Selene, the way Selene leaned into him without hesitation, those details told the story clearly enough.
And yet… Selene had never flaunted it. Their interactions were too natural.
Nysalea had never suspected that this soft-spoken, razor-sharp girl was from the very place she sought to destroy.
Peony Manor.
Had she known, would anything have changed?
It was too late now.
The two had grown close.
A strange bond had formed between them… born of laughter, banter, late-night talks, and mutual respect.
Selene had even joked once, with that rare mischievous smile, "Perhaps we were sisters in a past life."
From then on, they had called each other by that name.
Sister Selene. Sister Nysalea.
Both seventeen.
