Maria looked at me.
The instant our eyes locked, the air thickened. Something heavy was coming. I could feel it in my bones.
Her face held no theatrics. Just deep, quiet sadness pooling behind her gaze, the kind that hits harder than tears ever could.
She hesitated, lips parting, then spoke softly.
"My sister's real name isn't Leviathan. It's Rebecca. And she wasn't always this evil."
Her voice stayed level, but the grief underneath pressed against my chest like a stone. She was mourning someone who still breathed. yet no longer existed as the person she'd loved.
"She used to laugh," Maria went on, eyes dropping for a heartbeat. "Real, bright laughs. We'd fight over dumb things. who got the window seat in lessons, who finished drills first. She had simple dreams once."
The sadness in her gaze deepened when she looked up again.
"But our grandmother changed her. Brainwashed her."
The word landed like a blade between us.
