Calyra couldn’t help but smile when she thought about what Zaeryn and Viora’s eting would be like. The two of them—brother and sister, finally eting for the first ti. She wished she could be there to witness it.
But she didn’t worry about whether their eting would go well. Although Viora was putting on a tough front right now, Calyra was confident that would change the mont she t Zaeryn. Very soon, her niece wouldn’t just tolerate him, she would fiercely protect him.
Viora launched herself back into the fray, her body moving on pure instinct as she vented her frustration on the constructs. She froze a leaping beast mid-air, shattering it with a roundhouse kick that sent shards of hard-light skittering across the floor.
"What about Aphrodite?" she asked, not even looking up as she stabbed another construct through the throat. "She’s just walking around like everything’s fine, playing princess when she’s not even—" She paused, spinning to face Calyra. "None of it’s real."
"Well, to Aphrodite it’s pretty much real. She doesn’t know the truth about herself,"
Viora’s expression shifted. "Of course she’s just another victim of Athea’s lies." As annoying as Aphrodite could be, Viora actually felt bad for her, knowing that her life and everything Aphrodite thought she was was a lie and when the truth ca out, it was going to wreck her.
"She’s supposed to stay in the dark for now," Calyra replied, her voice carrying a hint of pity for once. "Athea was absolutely clear on that. Aphrodite is to know nothing, not about Zaeryn, not about her true parentage, and certainly not about the fact that she’s a placeholder for the son Athea couldn’t keep."
Viora scoffed, a harsh sound that rged with the crack of freezing air as she vaporized another construct with a blast of cold. She spun, her braid whipping against her armor.
"So she gets to keep playing the perfect princess while living a lie?" Viora’s breath ca in sharp bursts. "It doesn’t seem right. The fact that Athea has never bothered to tell her the truth... It is utterly cruel. On top of that it’s just cowardly."
"Right has nothing to do with it. It’s about survival," Calyra replied, leaning forward against the railing. "And it might seem cruel, but it’s not. Think about it. Aphrodite’s entire identity is built on being a Lumina. If she finds out she isn’t one by blood, if she learns she was just a convenient swap..." Calyra paused aningfully. "It will destroy her. Athea doesn’t want to hurt her. She might not be her daughter by blood, but Athea still loves her like her own."
"Right. She loves her."Viora said bitterly as she decapitated another construct, the digital body dissolving into pixels at her feet. Her movents were efficient, brutal, and entirely unsatisfying . "She can show endless love for Aphrodite while keeping her real daughter at arm’s length."
She stopped herself, her voice dropping. "Do you know how distant Mother has been these past years? Always preoccupied, always distracted. anwhile, she pampers Aphrodite, who isn’t even her child." Viora’s grip tightened on her blade. "It makes ..."
She didn’t finish the sentence, but the pain in her voice said enough.
Calyra’s expression softened. She set her wine glass down and straightened from the railing.
"Viora," she said gently, "your mother still cares about you. She pampers Aphrodite out of guilt. She overcompensates because deep down, she feels like she owes her sothing for the lie. And she also..." Calyra paused, choosing her words carefully. "She treats Aphrodite the way she desperately wishes she could treat Zaeryn. Every gift, every mont of attention, it’s not really for Aphrodite. It’s what Athea wishes she could give to her son. She’s pouring all that love into Aphrodite because she can’t give it to the child who actually shares her blood."
Viora didn’t answer imdiately. She stood amidst the fading frost of her own making, the silence stretching between them. Calyra’s words made sense in a twisted, logical way, but logic didn’t stop the sting of rejection she’d felt for years.
"You don’t need to make up excuses for her," Viora finally said, her voice quiet but firm. "That doesn’t make it hurt less."
"No," Calyra agreed. "It doesn’t. But maybe eting Zaeryn will help you understand. Maybe it will help you forgive her."
Viora didn’t promise anything. With a sharp flick of her wrist, she dismissed the arena interface. The remaining hard-light constructs dissolved into static, then nothingness.
"I need to get ready," she said, her tone shifting back to professional detachnt. "I’m wheels-up early tomorrow. Wish luck."
Calyra smiled, picking her wine back up. "Say hi to him for ."
"Sure," Viora replied, already walking away.
"And Viora," Calyra called out, her voice echoing slightly in the vast chamber.
Viora stopped and turned back. Her aunt was grinning, that familiar mischievous glint in her eyes. "What?"
"Take pictures," Calyra said shalessly. "Lots of them. And send them to . Your mother hoards every image of him like a dragon with gold, and I’m tired of begging for scraps."
Without a word, Viora turned and walked away, letting Calyra’s teasing echo behind her.
By the ti Viora disappeared down the hall, the sun was already dipping below the horizon in Sector 7, casting long, orange shadows across the living room.
The delivery drones had just buzzed away, leaving behind the spoils of their shopping trip.
Ysine stood in the center of the room. Her hands were on her hips as she surveyed the new setup with a look of deep satisfaction.
The velvet divan she had picked out, deep midnight blue, plush, and ridiculously expensive, now sat perfectly in the spot where the old sofa used to be.
"I have to say," she murmured, tilting her head. "I have excellent taste."
Zaeryn laughed, flopping down onto the new piece of furniture. He sprawled out, testing the cushions.
"It’s not bad," he admitted. "Definitely an upgrade from the previous furniture."
"It better be," Ysine said, walking over. "Considering the price tag."
She didn’t sit next to him. Instead, she pushed his legs aside gently and sat down near his knees, then draped his legs back over her lap.
Her hands rested on his shins. Her thumbs rubbed slow, soothing circles against the fabric of his pants.
"So," she said, her voice softening. "Tomorrow is the big day."
Zaeryn sighed, letting his head fall back against the armrest. "Viora."
"Are you nervous?" She looked slightly concerned and motherly.
"A little," he confessed. "She’s a Warlady. A princess. And apparently, she figured out Athea’s secret on her own. Sounds intimidating."
Ysine smiled down at him. It was that fierce, protective smile that always made him feel like nothing could touch him.
"She might be a Warlady," Ysine said. "But you’re special, Zae. You have a way of winning people over. Look at what happened with those girls at the academy. And Daphne."
She leaned forward slightly.
"Just be yourself. The charming, arrogant, impossible boy that you are. She won’t stand a chance."
Zaeryn grinned. "You think?"
"I know," she said firmly.
She reached into the shopping bag sitting on the floor beside the divan.
"I got you sothing else," she said, pulling out a small, sleek box. "While you were busy looking at those expensive motorbikes."
Zaeryn sat up, intrigued. "A present? I thought I was being punished for destroying the patio chairs."
"You are," she teased. "But I’m a benevolent caretaker."
He took the box and opened it. Inside sat a pair of high-tech sunglasses. The fras were matte black, stylish and sharp.
"For the glare," Ysine explained lightly. "Sector Seven gets bright this ti of year. And... well. They make you look mysterious. Like a celebrity trying to hide."
Zaeryn put them on. The HUD flared to life instantly, syncing with his wrist comm, but from the outside, they just looked pitch black and cool as hell.
He looked at her, flashing a grin.
"How do I look?"
Ysine stared at him for a mont."As always, handso." She leaned closer and her lips t his with a slow, searing heat that chased away the lingering anxiety about tomorrow. It wasn’t frantic like most of his encounters. It was deep, grounding, and possessed a familiarity that anchored him.
The next morning, the atmosphere in the house was tight enough to snap.
Zaeryn stood in the atrium. The house was quiet. Ysine had gone to prepare tea, a ritual to calm her own nerves more than anything else. She was probably just as worried as him and feared this eting with viora might not go well. And the other girls were giving him space, sensing the seriousness of the mont.
Today wasn’t about school. It wasn’t about creating connections and trying to get stronger. It was about eting the one person who could either be his greatest ally or his most dangerous enemy. His sister.
He checked the chrono-display. 05:54, he still had a few more hours before she was here in sector 7.
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