CHAPTER 257: BLIND FAMILY BONDS

The air in Liora’s room thickened after the wardrobe door slammed shut again. The smell lingered—metallic and sharp, seeping into everything. The lamplight flickered across the walls, bending shadows into strange shapes that looked almost alive.

Aira stood frozen a few paces from the wardrobe, one hand over her mouth, her eyes wide as if she could erase what she had just seen by refusing to blink. "Liora," she whispered, her voice breaking. "What... what did you do?"

Liora sat on the edge of the bed, her head bowed, her fingers tangled together as if in prayer. "You saw it already," she said softly, her tone far too calm for what had just happened. "There’s no need to ask again."

Aira took an unsteady step forward. The old wooden floor groaned beneath her, echoing the tremor in her chest. "You can’t just—Liora, this isn’t you. We have to go to Savira. Now."

Liora finally looked up. Her face was pale, her eyes dark in the lamplight. "No," she said, her voice steady but distant. "Savira won’t fix this."

"You don’t know that!" Aira snapped, her voice cracking. She took another step, her anger burning through the fear. "You said yourself that something went wrong with the ritual! If anyone can undo it, it’s her!"

Liora rose slowly, her nightgown shifting around her ankles as she moved closer. Her expression didn’t change. "And if she can’t?" she asked, her tone quiet, too quiet. "What happens then, Aira? Do they chain me in the royal dungeon like one of Zyren’s failed experiments?"

Aira flinched at her brother’s name but stood her ground. "They wouldn’t—"

"They would," Liora interrupted sharply. "You know what I am now. What I’ve become. You saw it."

Aira’s throat tightened. She had no answer for that.

Silence stretched between them, broken only by the faint whistle of wind through the shutters. Somewhere outside, a wagon rolled past, its wheels clattering against the cobblestones. The noise felt distant, unreal.

Liora exhaled, almost a sigh. "I appreciate your concern, truly. But this is mine to handle. My ability, my consequence."

Aira’s eyes filled with confusion and hurt. "You sound like you’re giving up."

"I’m accepting reality."

"That’s not reality, that’s surrender!" Aira shouted, her voice echoing through the room. "You killed people, Liora! You can’t just accept that like it’s nothing!"

"I didn’t say it’s nothing," Liora shot back. "But it’s done. I can’t undo it. I can only control what happens next."

Her words carried a weight that silenced Aira for a moment. The lamplight trembled again, the flame leaning toward them as though listening.

Liora moved closer, her eyes locked on Aira’s. "Tell me something," she said in a voice that softened but didn’t lose its edge. "Would you turn me in if I asked you not to?"

Aira blinked, startled. "What? Why would you even ask that?"

"Because I need to know."

Her tone made the question sound like a test. Aira frowned, shaking her head. "Of course not. You’re my sister."

Relief passed over Liora’s features like a shadow slipping away. "Good," she said. "Because if I still wanted to hurt anyone, I wouldn’t have let you in. I wouldn’t have shown you the wardrobe. If that were my plan, I’d have smiled, lied, and gone on killing while you slept soundly, thinking I was fine."

The words chilled Aira to her bones. She tried to convince herself that Liora was only being honest, but something about her tone—measured, emotionless—made her stomach twist.

Liora reached for the lamp, adjusting the flame. "I’ll handle it," she said. "If I need blood, I’ll use transfusions. I’ll make arrangements through the servants. No more deaths."

Aira hesitated. "You promise?"

"I promise." Liora’s voice was firm, convincing. But her eyes gave nothing away.

Aira studied her, searching for sincerity. She wanted to trust her, needed to—but the faint smell in the room and the way Liora avoided looking directly at her made trust feel like a fragile, dying thing.

She took a shaky breath and stepped closer, resting her hands on Liora’s shoulders. "You’re my only family now, Liora," she said softly, her voice trembling. "We have to trust each other."

Liora nodded slowly, her lips parting as though to agree, but inside her mind was chaos. The pulse in Aira’s wrist was so loud she could almost see it. Her fangs ached, pressing against her lip until she clenched her jaw tight enough to hurt.

Aira continued speaking, unaware of the silent battle happening before her. "We’ll get through this," she whispered. "I’ll find a way."

Liora barely heard her. Every second the scent of her sister’s blood grew stronger, sweeter. She could hear her own heartbeat racing to match Aira’s. The air felt too warm, too close.

Suddenly she stepped back, breaking Aira’s hold. "I’m tired," she said abruptly. "You should leave. I’ll come to the castle tomorrow."

Aira blinked, startled by the shift. "Now? After everything we just—"

"Please," Liora cut in, her voice sharp enough to slice through the air. "Not tonight."

Aira’s brows furrowed. "You can’t just send me away, Liora! We’re not done talking—"

"We are," Liora snapped. "I said I’ll handle it. Go home."

The tension in her tone made Aira falter. She wanted to argue, to stay until she was sure her sister was truly stable, but something in Liora’s expression stopped her cold. Her eyes had changed—dark, glassy, and distant.

"Fine," Aira said quietly, her voice softening in defeat. "But I’ll check on you tomorrow."

Liora gave a small nod. "Goodnight, Aira."

Aira hesitated, then reached out and pulled her into one last hug. Liora stood still, stiff at first, then slowly raised her hands to return the embrace. For a brief moment, she felt the warmth of her sister’s heartbeat against her chest—and the hunger flared so sharply she had to bite her tongue to keep control.

When Aira stepped back, she smiled faintly. "Try to sleep," she said, forcing calm into her tone.

"I will," Liora replied.

Aira lingered in the doorway for a moment longer before she finally turned and walked down the stairs. The sound of her footsteps echoed softly through the quiet house until the front door opened and closed.

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Liora didn’t move for a long while. She stared at the closed door, her body trembling with restraint. She could still hear Aira’s heartbeat in her mind, fading as the distance grew.

"Trust," she whispered to herself, the word bitter on her tongue.

Her gaze drifted toward the window, where faint light from the streetlamps bled through the shutters. Outside, the world continued—carriages rattled by, someone laughed in the distance, a dog barked again. Ordinary sounds that felt so far away from the quiet monster she was becoming.

She walked slowly toward the mirror across the room. The reflection that stared back looked human, but she could see the faint red glint flicker in her eyes when the lamplight hit them. Her pulse quickened.

"I’ll handle it," she murmured again. "I’ll make it work."

But as she spoke, her throat burned, and the ache in her teeth returned stronger than before.

She turned toward the door that led downstairs, staring at it as though she could still see Aira on the other side. Her fingers twitched, and for a moment she almost took a step forward—almost followed her.

Instead, she forced herself to turn away, gripping the edge of the table until her knuckles whitened.

"You’ll ruin everything," she muttered to herself. "Not her. Never her."

The lamp flickered once more and went out, plunging the room into near darkness.

Outside, the night wind carried the faintest sound of laughter and voices from across the street—life continuing as if nothing had changed. But for Liora, everything had.

She stood in the darkness, her breath steady but her eyes glowing faintly red, her thoughts whispering a truth she didn’t dare say aloud.

She sat back on the bed, the boards creaking softly beneath her, and stared at her hands. They no longer trembled. She could still feel the echo of Aira’s heartbeat in her ears, steady and warm, a reminder of what she had almost done.

Her gaze drifted toward the shuttered window where the street noises had returned—laughter, a wagon rolling over cobblestones, the clatter of hooves. The ordinary sounds of the city, all so far away from the thing she was becoming.

"I’ll handle it," she repeated, but her voice was empty now. She tilted her head back and closed her eyes, breathing in the faint scent of iron that clung to the air.

Outside, the night went on as if nothing had changed, but Liora knew better. She wasn’t sure which frightened her more—the hunger growing stronger inside her, or how easily she could still lie to the one person she loved most.

Still there was nothing she could do about it! There was a new addiction that had been birthed in her very soul.

Something she couldn’t ignore, damning all consequences.