Shattered bonds: Sisters in the shadows

The hooded figure moved swiftly, her steps light but purposeful. The bustling crowd around her paid no attention, caught up in their own rhythms of the day. The faint hum of conversation and distant horns filled the air as she halted at the entrance to a dimly lit alley. Her head turned subtly, scanning the surroundings for any sign of pursuit. Eyes hidden beneath the shadows of her hood, she lingered for a beat longer, ensuring she wasn't being followed. Satisfied, she stepped into the narrow street, the hum of the streets fading behind her.

Her pace slowed as she approached a weathered house at the end of the row. The building stood apart, its windows dark, shutters slightly ajar like hollow eyes watching the world.

Nothing had changed since the last seven years, she thought, her eyes tracing the cracks in the worn-out paint of the little house. The sagging roof, the overgrown garden, the faint squeak of the gate as she pushed it open—it was all the same.

As she stepped inside the yard, a gust of wind stirred the chimes hanging by the porch. Their soft clink was a bittersweet melody, pulling her deeper into the past. Her footsteps faltered at the door. This was it—the barrier between her and everything she'd tried to forget.

Raising her hand to knock, she hesitated. The weight of all those years apart felt heavier now, crushing down on her chest. What would they say? Would they even recognize her? Would she recognize them? Her fist trembled mid-air, doubts swirling like a wind. Taking a deep breath, she tightened her fist and rapped on the door, three firm knocks echoing into the still evening air.

A shuffle of movement sounded from within. Her heart thudded in rhythm with the footsteps growing louder on the other side of the door. She stood there, rooted to the spot, watching as the doorknob turned.

The door opened a crack, and then a face appeared—older, wearier, but unmistakably the one she remembered. The woman before her froze, her eyes going wide, disbelief giving way to recognition.

"Miss Victoria?" the woman whispered, her voice fragile like it might break if she spoke any louder.

Victoria nodded, unable to find her words. Her throat was dry, her pulse pounding. "It's me, Charlotte," she finally managed, her voice barely above a whisper.

The old maid opened the door wider, her hand flying to her chest. "I… I didn't think I'd ever see you again." she said smiling brightly.

She stepped aside, holding the door open and Victoria walked in, the small cottage smelled of aged wood and lavender, the kind of aroma that whispered secrets of the past. Charlotte's face held the same lines of worry and kindness Victoria remembered from years ago.

Charlotte pulled out an old stool, its surface scuffed and weathered by time, and motioned for Victoria to sit. As she lowered herself onto the stool, Victoria glanced around the room. Nothing had changed. The frayed curtains still hung by the window, the tiny fireplace crackled softly, and the walls bore the same faded pictures of another lifetime.

"You haven't changed a thing," Victoria murmured, half to herself.

Charlotte offered a faint smile, her hands nervously smoothing the front of her plain apron. "Not much reason to, Your Grace," she replied. Charlotte mumbled something under her breath and disappeared into the kitchen. Moments later, she returned with a steaming cup of tea, setting it carefully on the small table in front of Victoria. The chipped porcelain cup trembled slightly, as though it, too, recognized the weight of the moment.

Victoria took the cup in her hands but didn't drink. Instead, her eyes searched Charlotte's face, taking in the way time had etched itself onto her skin.

"No need to be so humble, Charlotte," Victoria said gently, setting the cup down. "I'm a commoner like you."

Charlotte's laugh echoed softly through the room, a sound both familiar and fleeting. "Nonsense, m'lady," she said with a shake of her head. "You are and will always be of noble blood, no matter where life takes you."

Her eyes settled on Victoria, and for a moment, the room fell silent. The young woman who once skipped through the gardens barefoot, with sunlight in her golden hair, seemed like a distant memory. The person before her now was unrecognizable in so many ways. Her golden locks were dyed jet black, the playful innocence in her eyes replaced by a guarded, calculating expression. The lines of her face hinted at struggles Charlotte could only guess at, each one carving away a piece of the carefree girl she'd once known.

"How have you been?" She asked.

The fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting a warm glow across the modest room. Victoria glanced at Charlotte briefly before turning her gaze away, her expression unreadable. "Fine," she said curtly, her voice betraying nothing.

Charlotte sighed, the weight of unspoken tension settling between them. She knew Victoria was guarding herself, just as she had ever since she walked through the door. Whatever had hardened the young woman over the years was not something easily undone. Best to give her space, Charlotte thought.

Forcing a smile, the older woman tried a different approach. "I'm guessing you need a place to stay?" she asked casually, though the concern in her tone was unmistakable.

Victoria nodded, and before Charlotte could say another word, she added quickly, "Yes, I do. And don't worry, I'll pay you."

Charlotte's lips curved into a genuine smile as she waved her hand dismissively. "No need... no need, child. Your money's no good here." She gestured toward the cozy but cluttered kitchen with a faint chuckle. "Just help with the chores, and we'll call it even."

Victoria blinked, momentarily surprised by the kindness. A brief smile tugged at her lips—a fleeting glimpse of the girl she used to be. She nodded once, quietly grateful. "Alright, it's a deal."

The undercity reeked of damp concrete, rusted pipes, and desperation. Daisy walked through its narrow corridors with the same air she always had—calm, detached, untouchable. She pushed through the doors of a dilapidated building, her boots echoing on the worn-out tile floor. Heading straight for the staircase, she ignored the muffled voices and the occasional flicker of the overhead lights.

"Daisy!"

She froze mid-step, her name called with a sharpness that immediately grated on her nerves. Turning around, she saw him—a wiry man with a permanent scowl etched into his weathered face. His clothes hung loosely on his frame, but his voice carried the confidence of someone who wanted to be a threat.

"What is it?" she asked, her tone dripping with boredom.

The man's face twisted with anger, the veins in his neck bulging as he took a step closer. "You think you're some god, don't you?" His voice was sharp and mocking, drawing the attention of a few loiterers in the dimly lit lobby.

Daisy remained still, her eyes narrowing slightly but offering no reaction beyond that.

"Daisy, Daisy, Daisy," he continued with exaggerated disdain. "The invincible! You walk around like you own the undercity." His tone grew more venomous as he advanced toward her, each word cutting through the thick tension in the room.

He stopped just inches from her, his sneer growing wider. Daisy didn't flinch, her expression as cool as stone. She looked at him like one might look at a stray dog barking too close for comfort.

The man leaned in, lowering his voice to a dark, icy whisper. "Enjoy this while it lasts, because very soon, everyone will leave you… just like your family did."

He straightened, his words hanging heavy in the air as he stared into her eyes, waiting for her to crack, to break, to give him even a flicker of power. His smirk deepened, confident he'd struck a nerve.

For a moment, Daisy said nothing. Then she tilted her head slightly, her lips curling into a faint, almost imperceptible smile. Her eyes locked on his, unblinking, and when she finally spoke, her voice was softer than he expected but no less lethal.

"Are you done?"

The smirk on his face faltered, confusion flickering across his features.

"I get it," Daisy said, taking a deliberate step closer, forcing him to back away slightly. "You're angry. Desperate. Bitter, Jealous,even. You see someone walking tall, and it burns you inside, doesn't it?" Her voice didn't rise, but it carried an edge that sliced through his bravado.

His scowl returned, but he didn't speak.

"Here's the difference between you and me," Daisy continued, her tone chillingly calm. "You talk. You throw cheap insults. You try to get under people's skin." She took another step forward, the click of her boots echoing loudly. "I don't need words to prove myself."

The man flinched ever so slightly, but Daisy noticed.

Leaning in, she whispered just loud enough for him to hear. "You're right about one thing. I walk like I own the undercity because I do. And if you want to find out what happens to people who test me, feel free to stay standing here."

She pulled back, straightening to her full height, and gave him one last look before turning away and heading up the stairs. The man stayed rooted in place, the color drained from his face. Her figure disappeared halfway up, and for a moment, it seemed as if the man had lost.

But he couldn't let it end like that.

"She's an abomination!" he bellowed, his voice trembling with desperation. His words echoed off the grimy walls, a hateful dagger thrown blindly into the air. "She'll kill us all, just like she did her parents and her sister!"

Gasps rippled through the room. All eyes turned to Daisy, who froze mid-step.

Her back stiffened. The cold mask she wore so effortlessly cracked, fury seeping through its polished surface. A gust of wind stirred, sharp and unnatural, making the lights flicker. Before anyone could register what was happening, a blur of movement shot through the room.

In the blink of an eye, Daisy was standing in front of the man, her hand wrapped tightly around his throat. The force of her grip drove him to his knees, and his face contorted with terror. Her once-calm eyes now burned with unrestrained rage, glowing faintly like embers stoked to life.

The room fell deathly silent, save for the man's choked gasps and the panicked sounds of him clawing at her arm, trying futilely to free himself.

"You should have kept your mouth shut," Daisy hissed, her voice low and venomous. Her face was inches from his, and the intensity in her expression made everyone watching shrink back.

The man gurgled a weak protest, his hands slapping against her arm with dwindling strength.

Daisy leaned in closer, her grip tightening. "You wanted to provoke me? Congratulations. Now you'll see what happens when people like you speak my family's name."

A nervous whisper passed through the room, but no one dared move. No one dared intervene. Fear hung thick in the air, and the weight of Daisy's fury was suffocating.

The man's struggles weakened further, his body trembling under the pressure. Daisy's jaw clenched as her fingers twitched, every instinct in her body telling her to finish it.

"Enough!"

A voice rang out, firm and steady, cutting through the suffocating silence. Daisy froze and turned her head slightly, her blazing eyes locking onto Joseph, who stood at the top of the stairs. His figure was bathed in dim light, his expression a mix of frustration and command.

"Let him go, Daisy," Joseph said, his voice softer now but still carrying the weight of authority.

Daisy's smile was bright and unsettling, the calm on her face at odds with the storm raging inside her. Slowly, almost mockingly, she loosened her grip and let the man drop to the floor like a sack of bricks. He landed with a loud thud, rolling onto his side and coughing violently, struggling to drag air into his lungs.

"I was just playing with him," Daisy said lightly, brushing her hands together as if shaking off dust. She shot a pointed glance at Joseph, her smile lingering before she turned and strode toward the stairs without another word, her footsteps echoing through the room.

The man lay on the floor, his ragged breathing the only sound in the room now. He clutched his throat, his face pale with lingering fear.

Joseph descended the stairs slowly, his boots clicking softly on the worn wood. He stopped in front of the man and stared down at him, his gaze cold and unwavering.

"Next time," Joseph said quietly, his tone deadly calm, "I won't be so merciful."

He didn't wait for a response. Turning on his heel, he followed after Daisy, leaving the man trembling on the floor amidst the whispers and murmurs of the onlookers.

Joseph walked into his dimly lit study, the weight of the day's chaos pressing on his shoulders like a lead cloak. He stopped in his tracks when he spotted Daisy perched on his desk, her legs swinging casually, a smirk teasing at the corners of her lips.

He ignored her completely, his steps slow as he made his way to the leather chair behind the desk. He sat down with a sigh, closing his eyes for a moment and rubbing his temples.

Daisy hopped down gracefully, her boots making a soft thud against the hardwood floor. She sauntered toward him, her smirk widening. "No scoldings today?" she teased, tilting her head in mock surprise.

Joseph opened one eye to look at her, his face a picture of weariness. "I have a headache, Daisy. Don't worsen it." He leaned back in his chair, his hand falling limply to the armrest as he closed his eyes again.

Daisy raised an eyebrow, scoffing. "Headache? Immortals don't get headaches, silly," she chided, walking back to the desk. Pulling open a drawer with practiced ease, she retrieved a syringe filled with crimson liquid.

The soft glow from the desk lamp reflected off the thick, viscous substance as she returned to Joseph, who didn't even open his eyes.

Without hesitation, Daisy climbed onto his lap, straddling him as she held the syringe up. "Hold still," she said with a playful grin.

Joseph's eyes snapped open, glowing faintly gold in the dim light. "Daisy—"

But before he could protest, she plunged the needle into his neck, injecting the blood-like liquid with a calculated precision. His body tensed for a moment, his head tilting back as his veins briefly illuminated under his pale skin. His eyes flared red, burning like coals, and a faint growl rumbled from deep in his chest.

Daisy leaned back, twirling the now-empty syringe in her fingers. "Feeling better?" she asked with a mischievous grin, watching as his tense posture eased and his glowing eyes faded back to their usual, piercing gold.

Joseph glared at her for a moment, rubbing the spot on his neck. "You're insufferable," he muttered, though there was no venom in his tone. The tension in his head had disappeared, replaced with a clarity he hadn't felt all day.

Daisy shrugged, tossing the syringe onto the desk. "I get that a lot," she said nonchalantly before sliding off his lap and strolling toward the bookshelf, running her fingers along the spines of old tomes.

Joseph shook his head, a reluctant smirk tugging at his lips. "You're lucky that worked. Next time, ask first."

Daisy spun around, flashing him a toothy grin. "Where's the fun in that?" she quipped before disappearing through the door, leaving him alone in the quiet study, shaking his head in exasperation.