The candle was nearly gone.
Its stub of a flame flickered in protest as Neyxa sat on the edge of the wooden cot, her legs pulled in, arms wrapped around her knees. The room was too quiet — not the calm kind, but the kind that made her ears ring. Her dagger lay nearby, its edge catching just enough light to gleam faintly. She hadn’t slept.
She couldn’t.
The parchment stared back at her, blank and patient. Her fingers hovered above it, the quill still dripping with black ink, staining her thumb. Every word she wanted to write twisted in her chest like it was poisoned.
"Start," she muttered to herself, voice hoarse. "Just… start."
—
Dear Rell,
You probably won’t read this.
Or maybe I’ll never let you.
But I need to write it. I need something to speak for me when I can’t.
—
She paused, blinking fast.
Her eyes burned. She hadn’t cried yet. That scared her most.
—
My sister’s name is Nyari.
She was born during a twilight eclipse, like me.
Same hour. Same stars. But they say her heart beat quieter than mine. Softer.
I used to think I had to be loud enough for both of us.
We found a cursed relic when we were little. A cracked mirror our parents stole and hid in a box beneath the floorboards. They were desperate, broke, scared. Adventurers without a cause.
I touched it first.
She protected me from the backlash.
And it cursed us both.
—
Neyxa’s fingers trembled. The ink dragged across the parchment, but she kept going.
—
It left a mark in my eye — made my reflexes sharper, my nights darker.
But Nyari… it took her soul. Or part of it.
She collapsed mid-spell.
Frozen. Like glass full of lightning and sleep.
No healer could reach her. No magic would wake her.
The guild said they’d help.
Nerro said I had talent.
Said if I gave him my blades and my silence, he’d find the cure.
He didn’t.
He just kept her.
He bound her inside a cryspool. Said her life was "suspended" — whatever that means.
And now… he threatens to drain her essence drop by drop if I don’t follow orders.
This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
—
So I’m writing this…
because I’m supposed to lead them to the beast temple.
To you.
He knows about us.
He doesn’t care how I feel.
But I do.
I never said it, but… I meant every laugh. Every time we almost kissed.
You made me think maybe I could be more than someone who hides in shadows.
I want to be brave enough to stop this.
But I don’t know how.
If this ends badly…
If I hurt you...
Please remember I didn’t choose this.
I just never stopped choosing her.
— Neyxa
—
The quill finally slipped from her fingers.
She read the letter twice. Her name at the end felt heavier than the whole page.
Neyxa folded the parchment slowly, like it might explode if she moved too fast. She slid it into the false seam of her pack — beneath the vial of cursed salve and a hidden charm Nyari had once made from shells.
Somewhere no one would find it.
Somewhere even she might forget.
—
That night, Neyxa didn’t dream of Rell.
She dreamed of the moment the curse hit.
—
Nyari stood in the flickering candlelight of their old hideout, holding her hand out in front of her. Her spell half-formed. Her smile small but sure.
Then the mirror cracked.
A scream not from the world but through it tore the floor open. Lightning surged. Blood and light twisted together.
Neyxa turned — too late.
Nyari had thrown herself between the relic and her.
She remembered Nyari’s voice, right before she vanished into stillness:
"Protect someone… one day. Even if it’s not me."
Then came the cold. And silence.
—
When Neyxa woke, her pillow was dry, but her breath shook.
She dressed slowly. Each blade sheathed like muscle memory. Her cloak hung a little heavier today. Maybe guilt had weight.
At the window, the sky was still dark — but the stars had begun to fade. She watched the sanctuary forest blink between fog and shadow.
Rell would be there.
Thessia too.
She could feel it — like pressure on her chest.
She didn’t know if she’d live through what came next.
She just knew she had to try.
