The two of them sit on the edge of the quiet sea, the moonlight cutting a silver path across the black waves. The night air is cool, salty, and carries the faint rhythm of water rolling against the shore. For a while, neither of them speaks—they just listen.
Finally, Diana breaks the silence, her voice low but sharp with years of pent-up questions.
Diana: "Why, Emma? Why did you leave? Why didn't you come back? Do you have any idea what it was like—searching for you? Not knowing if you were alive or dead?"
Emma sits with one knee pulled up, arms resting loosely over them. Her expression is calm, but her eyes reflect the shifting moonlight—tired, heavy, carrying years of scars.
Emma: "…I didn't leave because I wanted to. I had no choice. Every step I took away from you, away from home, was survival. If I stayed, I'd have dragged you into hell with me."
Diana shakes her head, her hands tightening into fists in the sand.
Diana: "Hell? You think I cared about that? I would've gone through hell with you! We promised—back then—that we'd never leave each other behind."
Emma lowers her gaze, silent for a long moment. When she finally speaks, her voice is softer.
Emma: "And that's exactly why I left. Because you would've followed me. And I couldn't let you… not into the blood I had to spill, the things I had to do. You would've hated me. Maybe you already do."
The sea fills the silence between them. Diana's chest rises and falls, her anger fighting against the ache in her throat.
Diana: "…I don't hate you. I just hate that you decided for me. That you carried it all alone. That you thought I was too weak to stand beside you."
Emma finally turns to look at her. There's a flicker of pain—brief but real.
Emma: "…I never thought you were weak, Diana. You were the only thing I didn't want stained. That's all."
The words hang heavy in the air. Diana looks away, biting her lip, the moonlight catching the tear that finally slips down her cheek.
The waves roll, steady and endless, filling the pauses when words cut too deep. Emma sits still, back straight, her hands resting calmly on her knees, while Diana shifts restlessly beside her, unable to stay still—just like when they were kids.
Diana: "…Did you really… kill them? Your parents?"
Emma doesn't flinch. Her eyes stay fixed on the water.
Emma: "Yes."
The answer is blunt, cold. No hesitation. But beneath it, Diana catches the faintest shadow of pain in Emma's voice—buried so deep it's barely there.
Diana: "…Why? Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you come to me?"
Emma: "Because I didn't have the luxury to explain. It was that, or both of us would've been dead. Vencor made sure of it. That day wasn't a choice. It was an order. And orders… weren't meant to be broken."
Diana's hands tighten in the sand until her nails dig into her palm.
Diana: "So you obeyed? You just—listened to them? You let them take everything from you?"
Emma finally turns, meeting her eyes. Her tone is quiet but sharp.
Emma: "Do you think I wanted to? I was a child, Diana. A child with a knife at my throat—only, the knife wasn't pointed at me. It was pointed at you. At everyone else I cared about...He would've made them suffer also. So I had. Too. "
Diana looks down, her breath shaky. The weight of Emma's words sinks in.
Diana: "…All this time… I thought maybe you forgot me. Or worse, that you didn't care anymore."
Emma stares at her for a long moment before speaking.
Emma: "I thought about you every day. You kept me alive when food couldn't. When the chains cut into my wrists, when I couldn't sleep, when I wanted to just… let go. It was your face that kept me breathing. That's the only reason I'm sitting here right now."
The words hit Diana like a punch. She turns her head quickly, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand, trying not to let Emma see.
Diana: "…Then why didn't you come back sooner?"
Emma exhales, a low breath that almost sounds like a laugh—but there's no humor in it.
Emma: "Because I wasn't someone you could come back to. I wasn't human anymore. I was something else. Something you shouldn't have had to see."
Silence. The waves crash, retreat, crash again. Diana leans forward, staring at the black water. While Emma is staring at her own hands.
Diana: "…I don't care if you're human or not. You're Emma. My Friend. The one who sat with me at lunch when no one else would. The one who let me copy her homework. The one who… who didn't laugh when I cried after getting hit by those boys in class. That's the Emma I'll always see."
Emma doesn't answer immediately. Instead, she looks at Diana, her expression unreadable. Then, finally, she lowers her head, her bangs falling to shadow her eyes.
Emma: "…You haven't changed."
Diana: "And you have, But that doesn't mean I'll leave you again."
The sea is quieter now, the waves softer, like it knows the night is almost over. Diana finally breaks the silence, her voice lower this time—not as angry, not as hurt, just curious, almost afraid of the answer.
Diana: "…So… what now? What's your next move, Emma?"
Emma doesn't respond right away. She takes her time, eyes locked on the horizon, where the black water swallows the stars. Her hands rest on her lap, still, but her jaw tightens.
Emma: "…Vencor won't stop. He'll keep coming until either I'm his again… or I'm dead. And anyone close to me will suffer in the crossfire."
Diana looks at her sharply, already shaking her head.
Diana: "Don't even start with that 'stay away from me' crap. I'm not leaving you again. So if he's coming for you… then he's coming for me too."
Emma finally turns, her dark eyes meeting Diana's. There's no softness, only steel.
Emma: "This isn't your fight."
Diana: "Then make it mine."
The wind picks up, tugging at their hair, carrying Diana's words into the night. Emma studies her for a long moment, searching her face—looking for doubt, weakness, hesitation. But there's none.
Finally, Emma exhales, leaning back against the cold sand.
Emma: "…My next move is simple. End Vencor. Permanently. No running, no hiding. He dies, or I do."
Diana's fists clench in the sand. She doesn't flinch, doesn't argue. Instead, she nods.
Diana: "…Then I'm in."
Emma raises a brow, almost amused at her stubbornness.
Emma: "…Even if it means blood on your hands?"
Diana: "If it means I don't lose you again, then yes."
The words hang between them, heavy, honest. Emma Smirks.
Emma: "…Then don't slow me down."
Chapter End