Lily remembered the sound first.
She stood beside her sister in the garden, their shadows touching on the stone path. Vivi's pink hair caught the afternoon light, glowing faintly, as if the sun itself had chosen her.
At first, she didn't understand why that hurt. She only felt a tightness in her chest, a small pressure that made it harder to breathe. She told herself it was nothing. That she was imagining things. Vivi was kind—she always was. Vivi smiled at her, sometimes took her hand, sometimes waited for her.
So Lily followed.
She followed Vivi through hallways and courtyards. She watched how Vivi spoke, how she stood straight without trying, how people remembered her name. Lily learned quickly, quietly. She listened more than she spoke. She became sharp, observant—because if no one would look at her, then she would look at everything.
Their father barely looked at Lily at all.
When he did, his eyes slid past her like she wasn't fully there. His attention was fixed on Vivi—on what Vivi represented. On the inheritance that had flowed down through generations and now rested on a child's shoulders.
Vivi was an investment.
Lily was excessive.
Once, when Lily was younger, she asked her father why he never came to her school events. He didn't raise his voice. He didn't even seem angry.
He simply said, "You don't need me."
She believed him.
Their mother was different. Their mother smiled, hugged, and said all the right things. She told Lily she loved her just as much. But her concern evaporated when no one else was watching.
Love, Lily learned, could be performed. Love can be faked.
That's why even when she was aware of Lex's feelings towards her, she hesitated to bring up the topic.
For a long time, Lily admired Vivi without reservation. Vivi was warm. Vivi was good. Vivi deserved what she received.
But admiration curdled slowly.
It came in small moments. In being talked over. In standing just out of frame in family portraits.
She hated Vivi for being loved.
Then she hated herself for hating her.
That was the worst part.
The night everything broke, Lily was sitting at the top of the stairs. She wasn't supposed to be listening. She hadn't meant to. But voices carried.
Her father was shouting. Her mother was crying. Accusations spilled into the hallway, ugly and sharp.
And then her father said it.
Not to her mother.
To Lily.
"I wish you had never been born."
The words landed heavy and absolute. They didn't echo. They didn't fade. They simply settled inside her, filling every empty space.
Later came lawyers. Cold rooms. Paperwork.
Custody was divided cleanly and efficiently. Vivi to the father. Lily to the mother.
Except the mother didn't want her.
So Lily was sent back.
Back to the house where she was already unwanted.
Back to a man who never spoke to her unless necessary. Who never raised his voice at her again—not because he cared, but because she no longer registered as something worth reacting to.
Years passed like that.
Then suddenly she was stranded in a nightmarish mountain with her friends, hell-bent on killing them. She thought maybe she would at least not be a burden.
But reality was cruel; her powers were useless. She couldn't hold her own against anyone.
She....She got Nolan's mother killed. She couldn't even defend someone properly.
And to call a kettle black, she became a burden. Poisoned herself.
Vivi was the complete opposite. She is the reason why they all survived. If not for her, they all would have been riddled with wounds and died before ever reaching the city.
Lily stood in the arena, heart pounding.
She felt the familiar pressure again. That same tightness in her chest.
Now, standing across from Vivi, Lily felt that pressure sharpen into something else. Determination. Fear. Anger. Resolve—all tangled together.
She didn't hate her sister.
But she refused to disappear for her.
As the noise of the arena blurred around them, Lily tightened her grip, steadying her breath.
This time, she would be seen.
Even if she had to fight for it.
The host spoke with a final cut, "Begin!"