Riegthar POV

Standing in the dimly lit corridor, with my sister Ryophlira’s eyes boring into my soul. My mind didn’t scramble for a lie. Instead, it fractured. The sheer weight of her gaze dragged me backward through the ashes of time, pulling me down into the dark, bloody history that had forged the three of us.

Before the secrets, before the forbidden nights, there was only the war.

I was fifteen years old when the world tore itself apart. Ryophlira was only ten, a fragile child harboring a cataclysmic power beneath her skin, and Aiyolistra was twelve, already sharpening her teeth on Ryophlira.

I will never forget the night the sky bled. Ryophlira had lost complete control of her powers. In a matter of mere hours, thousands of innocent people died within the capital their bodies vaporized, burned or crushed beneath the sheer, unbridled pressure of her. Among the casualties was Ryophlira’s first lady-in-waiting, a gentle woman who had been by her side for years. She, like every single staff member who served the halls of the palace, had been hand-picked by our mother.

Mother prided herself on absolute vigilance, she curated the palace staff like a master puppeteer selecting strings, ensuring every maid, guard, and manservant was a loyal extension of her own terrifying will.

But Ryophlira’s accidental eruption had blind-sided even Mother, leaving a trail of absolute devastation that rippled far beyond our kingdom’s borders.

Every neighboring kingdom suffered massive casualties from the magical shockwaves. In a panic of survival and shifting politics, the kingdoms slammed their gates shut. They closed their borders and completely cut off access to their invaluable resources, forcing the all kingdoms into a desperate, heavily armed dark age.

Through the isolation, the defining traits of the realms became our greatest threats

The North renowned for their advanced, devastating weaponry and an unholy, terrifying army of the dead. The South know for their massive, heavily guarded reserves of teleportation crystals. The East controlled the ancient, mystical ports that opened up directly into different realms. Us The West know for hyper-advanced civilization teeming with powerful blood mages.

Our mother hailed from one of those distant, untamed Eastern realms. The realm of dragons and prehistoric beasts. When the East sealed their ports and went entirely silent, Mother was cut off from her homeland. She had not seen her people in years, a reality that only fueled the simmering, rage she kept locked behind her imperial smile.

The War started shortly after the borders closed. Initially, it was just us against the South, and our military might was dominating the battlefield. But then the North joined the fray, unleashing their necromantic armies, and the continent devolved into absolute chaos. The bloodshed was relentless.

For a whole year, the East stayed silent, watching us butcher one another, before they suddenly struck pulling devastating, otherworldly resources and alien beasts directly from the portals of different realms to crush our flanks.

While the war persisted on the borders, the true nightmare was unfolding inside the palace walls. Ryophlira was unraveling. Haunted by the thousands of lives she had taken at ten years old, she was having a horrific time controlling her magic. Ail sealed away some of her memories but that wasn’t enough. Terrified of her own power she rejected and accidentally injured every single lady-in-waiting Mother picked for her.

The replacement maids were nothing more than shadows, emotionless, silent phantoms who only appeared when explicitly asked to and were ruthlessly killed by Mother the moment they outlived their usefulness.

Ryophlira was drowning in isolation, desperate for a anchor. Then came the day that changed everything. Mother had taken Ryophlira and me into the lower sectors of the capital, marching through the grime to inspect the civilian morale. As we bypassed a damp, forgotten alleyway, a horrific sight caught my eye.

A young girl, barely seventeen years old, was collapsed in the filth. She was entirely beaten, her pale skin covered in a map of purple bruises and open cuts, feebly begging for mercy. Hovering over her was a grotesque, heavy-set man in his late fifties. She was his sex slave, a disposable piece of flesh to be used and broken at his whim.

A wave of profound disgust rolled over me, but it was Mother who moved first.

With a terrifying, instantaneous burst of speed, Mother materialized in front of the man. With a single, fluid swipe of her hand, she completely gutted him on the spot with her bare, elongated claws. His blood splashed against the brick walls as he collapsed into the dirt.

Mother wiped her bloodied claws on a silk handkerchief, handed to her by her lady in waiting that moved out of the shadows, her expression entirely bored. She looked down at the trembling, battered girl. "You are free," Mother stated coldly.

Ari though I did not know her name then looked up through her matted black hair, her striking, glassy blue eyes wide with a desperate, instinct to survive. She dragged her broken body forward across the stone, grasping at the hem of Mother’s gown. "Please," she begged, her voice a ragged whisper. "Take me with you. Let me serve you."

"No," Mother replied without a shred of empathy. With a callous flick of her feet, she kicked the girl aside, turning her back on her.

But Ryophlira didn’t move. Looking at the broken girl, something snapped inside my sister. Ryophlira lunged forward, throwing herself onto Ari’s battered body and clinging to her with a grip.

"No! We are taking her!" Ryophlira screamed, her voice cracking with a terrifying, unhinged emotion. "I want her! I want to take Ari with us!"

"Release her, Ryophlira," Mother warned, her voice dropping into that quiet, suffocating tone that usually signaled an execution. "We do not bring strays into the palace."

"I said we are taking her!" Ryophlira yelled against.

The air pressure in the alleyway plummeted. The stones beneath our feet began to crack, gold light began to bleed from Ryophlira’s left eye. She was losing control again. Another outburst was coming, one that would undoubtedly level the entire sector and slaughter everyone within a mile radius. I stepped back, my throat closing in terror, unable to stop my little sister’s magic.

Then, the impossible happened.

Ari, hovering on the brink of death, opened her mouth and let out a raw, guttural cry. Harnessing the residual blood pooling from her own deep wounds and the fresh gore of her former master, she manipulated the crimson fluid. In a fraction of a second, the blood crystallized, hardening into a razor-sharp, glistening blade. With a desperate, sweeping motion, Ari drove the blood blade directly into Ryophlira’s chest.

I choked on a scream, stepping forward to slaughter the girl but the gold light instantly vanished. The catastrophic magic dissipated into nothingness. The blade hadn’t pierced Ryophlira’s heart, it had precisely disrupted her internal mana pathways, safely short-circuiting her power. Ryophlira’s eyes rolled back, and she completely passed out, her limp body collapsing perfectly into Ari’s trembling arms.

Silence descended on the alleyway. Ari sat in the filth, panting heavily, bleeding out, yet her arms remained wrapped around my sister like a shield. Slowly, I turned to look at our mother, expecting her to rip Ari’s head from her shoulders.

Instead, Mother’s face twisted into a massive, terrifyingly wicked smile. Her eyes danced with absolute fascination and a dark, twisted satisfaction. A tool that could successfully suppress the Ry wrath was an invaluable asset to her collection.

"Follow us," Mother commanded, her voice dripping with an eerie warmth. With Ryophlira cradled securely in her arms, Ari forced her beaten, broken body to stand. Every step she took left a smear of blood on the stones, her bones groaning under the weight, but she kept her gaze fixed ahead. She followed us out of the slums and straight into the grand gates of the palace.

From that exact day forward, they were entirely inseparable. Ari was utterly different from the regular, faceless maids that Mother hand-picked to fill the corridors.

She possessed an fearless spirit that the palace walls couldn’t crush. She spoke openly without ever asking for permission especially when it came to Ry. She controlled Ryophlira’s temper like absolutely no one else in the kingdom could.

She understood the darkness inside my sister. They became each other’s sanctuary, sharing everything including a bed, wrapped together in the dark to keep the nightmares of their pasts at bay.

And as the months bled into a year, I found myself entirely unable to look away. Watching her glide through the stone halls, so fierce yet so incredibly fragile, a quiet, consuming fire sparked deep within my chest. I didn’t just want to know the maid who saved my sister. I wanted to know the woman behind the blue eyes. I wanted to know everything.