Page 64 of A Reflection of Dusk and Dawn

“And I won’t apologize for doing what’s necessary.”

Necessary for who? Her? Her in her vengeance? Her and her hate that echoes our grandfather’s? He wrote those words on the wall of her heart, and now there is no room for mine.

My sister isn’t lost. She’s chosen this path, embraced this darkness, wrapped herself in anger and vengeance like a cloak.

Where I once saw bridges to build, I now see only chasms too deep to cross. My sister stands on the other side, her back turned to everything we once shared.

Something inside me breaks—not with a crash or a bang, but with the quiet finality of a candle being snuffed out.

My grandfather’s poison runs too deep in her veins. His legacy of hate has taken root in her heart, sprouting thorns that have choked out the garden of her compassion.

I’ve been trying to tend to flowers in salted earth.

Sadly, I cannot save someone who doesn’t want to be saved or sees their wounds as armor. Nor can I reach someone who’s built walls around their heart and called them a fortress.

“I miss the sister who believed in kindness,” I say, even though I know she’s beyond my reach now.

“Kindness won’t win wars. Strength will.” With a wave of her hand, she dismisses me, as if I mean nothing to her. “This discussion is over. Leave.”

“Is this what you really want?” I ask, my chest tightening.

She doesn’t answer.

I turn away and leave her tent, the flap closing with a soft whoosh behind me. I don’t look back, don’t beg for any kind of miracle.

It’s never going to happen.

Asha is lost to me.

My hand rises to my chest, pressing against the spot where my heart should ache. Where grief should tear through me. Where the pain of losing my sister should burn.

But there’s nothing.

Just a hollow space beneath my ribs.

I could have loved her better than anyone, cared for her more deeply, forgiven her endlessly, but she didn’t leave any room for me.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Annora

As we continueour march north over the next three days, the dunes rise and fall like waves frozen in time.

I used to love the way the sand glittered in the sunlight, like millions of tiny jewels blanketing the earth. Now, it only reminds me of the blood that will inevitably be spilled here. Of the lives that will be lost in this meaningless conflict between our people.

Hematite fighting Hematite.

How did we let it come to this?

Over a century ago, this land was our shared home, but now it’s a graveyard waiting to claim us all.

Each morning brings another day of marching north, another day closer to House of Crimson territory.

On the fourth day, Asha pulls her mare to ride alongside mine and offers me her flask of water. “Here.”

I keep my eyes fixed on the horizon, watching the sun paint the sky in shades of crimson, the irony not escaping me.

“Rora, please.” Her voice softens. “I’m sorry I was so harsh the other day.”

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