Page 13 of Dancing with Vipers and Shadows

“Ten years wasn’t enough?” I whisper, realizing how my voice cracks at the end.

She holds my gaze, which shows a glimpse of vulnerability.

“Ten years old. At the stroke of midnight, we discovered we’d have to attend N.M.U. at the age of twenty. Ten years to train. To be prepared for the inevitable. When we reached eighteen, our gifts were awakened, and we promised to have each other’s backs no matter what the Shadows planned for us.”

I dare to smile, the look only making her expression further pained.

“So why did you abandon me?” I whisper the words I’ve been forced to repeat in my mind. “Was it to set me up for failure?”

“No!” She presses as her eyes fill with tears. “I… I had to do it, Ophelia. You need to understand. This… this wasn’t done lightly. This wasn’t how it was supposed to pan out.”

“Meaning you planned to leave,” I conclude. Her eyes widen further at my understanding before she shakes her head.

“Ophelia!”

“That’s all I need to know.”

“Where are you?!”

“At the university.” My tone falls flat, the emotion that dared to portray glimmers of sadness long forgotten.

“No.” She shakes her head. “Don’t lie to me! You can’t qualify for the university. You don’t have the power…” She trails off as she begins to look at my body.

“What?”

I follow her gaze because of the threads of fear that begin to take over the lines of her face. I realize my shoulders bear a cloak of black, and beneath it, I’m completely naked.

Despite the bareness, that’s not what has frightened my sister.

It’s the oozing blood that’s bleeding along my flesh.

At first, it freaks me out. Not enough to leave me running and screaming to the hills, but just enough to have me replicate my sister’s expression of shock… and fear.

Then I’m completely fascinated because the blebs of blood are beginning to unite, creating lines of blood that flow into patterns, swirls, symbols, and unique characters. It starts at my fingers, moving up my hands. Then my wrists are next, followed by my arms. The silence feels catastrophic in nature, especially when we’re pulled into the alluring trance these symbols have sucked us into.

Holding my breath, I wait for it to end as I can feel the beating pain that feels like a drill is being pricked in my flesh a thousand times, but it keeps going.

My chest, neck, breasts, stomach. Runs down my thighs, my legs, and even my feet.

By the time I look up, my sister is speechless as she slowly pulls away.

Her rejection doesn’t phase me.

It’s the emotion that dances in her eyes that confuses me.

She’s not afraid of me.

Nor is she angry.

What I see in her eyes is something I can’t grasp coming from her. One of blood. The older twin who got away with freedom.

Envy.

“You’re jealous?” I question.

“You… took it.”

“Took it?” I’m not following. “Took what?”

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