POV: AstraeaLocation: Western Rootline – Perimeter Lattice
The empire didn't hum anymore.It listened.
Astraea sat still in the dark, her legs folded beneath her, arms resting lightly at her sides. Her eyes were closed, but her mind was wide open. She felt the flow of the vines shifting—not as life—but as signal. As surveillance.
He was watching.
And she let him.
"You're still afraid of me," she said softly.
Not loud. Not directed.Just enough.
Enough for the cameras embedded in the roots to catch her lips. Enough for the system to funnel it directly to him.
"You haven't changed that part of yourself. Always hiding behind glass and silence. Always pretending not to feel."
Her eyes opened.
Not toward the camera.
But through it.
"You forget, Ren. I used to walk behind you. Not beside you. Not in front. Behind."
She smiled faintly, the kind of smile that carried blood and memory.
"I know what it looks like when your shoulders tense. I know the way your fingers pause when you're trying to suppress a reaction. I know the way your silence bends when you're lying."
She tilted her head.
"You're lying to yourself again, aren't you?"
The vines shifted slightly behind her.
An illusion? A test?
No.
She knew it was real.
A moment of his breath on the system—just enough to give himself away.
"I'm not here to break your world," she said. "I'm here to see if the one I once loved… is still buried somewhere inside it."
She stood up slowly, brushing dust from her robes.
The sky above pulsed with artificial stars. The empire was rewriting the light again—subconsciously responding to her presence.
It still remembered her shape.
Her weight.
Her voice.
"You built a kingdom to keep me out," she said quietly. "But you forgot something."
Her gaze lifted—this time straight into the camera hidden in the rootline wall.
"You can't erase what made you."
Then she turned her back.
And walked away.
Not because she was done.
But because she knew…
he wasn't
POV: RenLocation: Sovereign Chamber – Private Sanctum
The system pulsed with red light.Not from threat.From emotion.
Astraea's words still lingered in the command lines like a virus I couldn't isolate. No code. No sigil. Just… truth.
Uninvited.Unrepelled.Unforgotten.
So I summoned her.
No alarms. No commands. Just a silent pull only she would feel.
And she came.
She stepped into the sanctum slowly, her silver hair drifting around her like starlight untethered, her gaze steady—but not without pain.
I sat on the edge of the obsidian platform, robes unfastened at the throat. No throne behind me. Just space.
She stopped a few paces away, eyes scanning mine. She knew I'd been watching.
She didn't speak first.
So I did.
"You're still meddling."
"I'm still remembering."
I nodded once. Then let the rest come out, flat and clear.
"I don't want you interfering again. And since I can't erase you without damage… the only option is proximity."
Her brow furrowed.
"You want to… keep me close?"
"In the surface world. As my sister. A fabricated memory net will be distributed to the town, to my school, to every digital and public trace. You'll live with me."
She didn't speak.
I kept going.
"You'll be family to them. But to those who matter—Elira, the goddesses, and the empire—your status will remain unchanged. You'll have your own identity. But…"
A pause.
A quiet cut.
"I can't give you the love you want. I never could."
She flinched.
Not from the words themselves.
But from how easily I said them.
Her lips parted as if to speak, then faltered.
Her hands trembled.
"I waited," she whispered. "I waited across dimensions for you."
Her voice cracked. "You had some humanity left when we were together. But now… now you won't even pretend to feel."
I stayed silent.
That was the only cruelty I never had to practice.
She dropped to her knees in front of me.
Not as a servant.
But as something rawer. Realer.
She reached for my hand.
Pressed her lips to it.
"I would've broken myself for you," she said. "And maybe I already did."
Her tears fell on my fingers.
I let them.
She leaned closer, resting her head against my thigh as I sat—her arms wrapped around my leg like a child clinging to the last warmth in a frozen world.
Her voice was a breath now.
"You still smell like starlight," she whispered.
And then, slowly, she looked up.
Her eyes shimmering with grief.
She reached toward me again.
One hand on my face. The other to my neck.
She kissed me—softly. Longingly.
Then—
She bit.
Her teeth sank into my neck, not to wound… but to claim.
She drew blood.
And kissed it away.
Then her lips met mine.
And we moved.
Not out of desire.Not love.Not reunion.
But ache.
A desperate attempt to feel something real, even if only for a night.
Even if it left both of us emptier.
When it was over, she rested her head against my chest.
My arms did not move.
My mouth did not speak.
And that silence?
It wounded her more than any blade could have.
She didn't cry again.
But when she finally stood, her voice was quiet.
Flat.
"Fine. I'll play your sister. I'll lie with a smile."
And she left.
Without looking back.
I remained still for a long time.
Her warmth fading from my skin.
And in the dark, I whispered to no one:
"You were the last thing I loved. That's why I buried you."