Chapter 134: Chapter 134: You started it all.

Chapter 134 – You started it all.

Anesthesia’s right hand whipped out straight toward Isolde’s left cheek, her expression cold and ferocious.

There was no hesitation in her purple eyes as they settled on her own sister...and neither was there any in Isolde’s as she effortlessly lifted her arm into the path of the attack, blocking it with her forearm.

A collision of bone echoed and a muffled grunt escaped Isolde’s pressed lips.

Her eyes flashed mercilessly. She grabbed Anesthesia’s hand before she could pull it back and flung her sharply toward her.

Anesthesia’s eyes widened at the sudden motion, feeling herself being pulled forward. Before her body could react into a defensive position, Isolde’s forehead crashed against her own with brutal intensity, snapping her head backward with a force that sent a loud crack through the air.

The Chosen Heiress groaned in pain, her forehead already swelling, a trickle of blood slipping from the wound.

Giving her no time to regain her bearings, Isolde spun on herself and drove her foot directly into Anesthesia’s stomach — sending her flying across the room, stopped only by the remains of the shattered table.

Anesthesia coughed, blood staining her lips red. Her head spun continuously, leaving her dizzy and unable to properly see where she was for a brief moment. Added to that, the pain in her stomach had stolen her breath, her lungs straining to pull in air only for the effort to send fresh pain through her each time.

Yet all of that confusion and dizziness lasted only a second before her mind snapped back.

She lifted her head and looked up at Isolde standing over her with cold purple eyes, and felt a raging anger surge inside her like floodwater.

"You started it." Isolde said coldly, her eyes unwavering. "You struck me first, and I am only responding in kind. But I must thank you for this, Anesthesia."

Her lips pulled into a humourless smile.

"You will never know how many times I have dreamed of this day. So come." She took her stance, fists raised in a boxer’s guard, eyes locked on her sister’s. "Prove to me that you are indeed better than me. Prove it to me, Anesthesia, that everything I went through because of you was for a good reason."

"Hahah." Anesthesia barked a harsh laugh. "Oh, so this is the day, then?" She said, slowly rising to her feet, her face like stone despite the pain in her body. "Is this finally the day you found enough courage to seek answers for everything that happened to you? The day you stop hiding your disgusting fear behind me, the way you have been doing all this time?"

Isolde’s eyes widened slightly at those words, surprised that Anesthesia had managed to sense her feelings even though she had done her best to conceal them.

"Why are you surprised?" Anesthesia continued, now fully upright, taking no particular stance, yet a cold, mysterious aura shrouded her entire body. "You may have managed to hide your true feelings toward me as we grew up. But dear sister...you were never, and I mean never, able to do so when I was nothing but a newborn, and not until I reached the age of seven."

Isolde’s stance almost faltered. "What... what do you mean?"

"Ah. You don’t know me at all, do you?" The Chosen Heiress said with a smile. "And how could you? Most of what you know about me are things you heard whispered around you. So let me tell you something about myself, dear sister."

She smiled, the blood on her lips giving her a wild, untamed look.

"My Aspect is Resonance. And with that Aspect living in me — even before it had awakened — I was able to instinctively sense the intentions and feelings others directed at me if they are unguarded. So you never knew that even before I could speak like any other human, even when I had just opened my eyes to the world for the first time...I could very clearly sense your animosity toward me. An animosity so glaring, so obvious, that every time I was near you I was unable to stop crying."

Anesthesia paused, watching the expression on Isolde’s face decompose, shock spreading across every feature.

She continued. And for once, something inside her desperately wanted to be let out. Something that refused, for once in her life, to be cast as the sole culprit of everything.

"You remember that, don’t you?" She hissed, her voice going colder. "How could you not? Because it was from that point that father and mother gradually began to distance themselves from you. Not because they consciously chose it, but because I was unable to feel safe or protected in your presence. That is where everything began."

She laughed. "Your hatred grew stronger and stronger the more mother and father favoured me, and my reactions grew stronger every time you came too close. At some point, you were strictly forbidden from being near me."

Anesthesia cocked her head. "Does any of that ring a bell, sister?"

"This..." Isolde was left speechless, unable to say anything, because all of it was true.

She remembered every one of those events as clearly as if they had happened yesterday.

She remembered the day her parents announced, with smiles on their faces, that a new baby was coming. It had been one of the worst days of her life.

For three years, Isolde had lived with her parents as the sole centre of their attention and love. She was the sweetness of their hearts, the reason for their smiles. They had looked at her with pride, praised her, given her everything she wanted.

But that day, Isolde had seen her parents happy for a reason she had not caused. Happy because of another being. Someone who hadn’t even been born yet.

That was when her animosity toward her sister had begun. An animosity that needed no visual confirmation, she had disliked her before she had even seen her.

But when Isolde finally did see her — witnessing how bright, beautiful and utterly radiant Anesthesia was; watching her parents look at Anesthesia the same way they had once looked at her, no, even more so — Isolde had completely snapped, and an immediate, intense dislike had taken root in her heart.

A dislike that Anesthesia, the Chosen Heiress, had sensed with perfect accuracy through her powerful and unique Aspect, setting into motion a chain of events that had made Isolde Amaris even more isolated, and had shaped who she was standing here today.

Because when Anesthesia felt threatened...

"...I never forgive, sister." She said. "As a baby I could do nothing. But the moment I could move and speak, I made it my life’s ultimate purpose to take everything from you, because I didn’t need to be a genius to see you were nothing but a jealous witch. Jealous of the simple fact that I was more loved. And that I was, indeed, better than you. Do you hear me?"

She paused, then spoke more slowly. As if making certain Isolde caught every single word.

"I am better than you. And I have proven it so many times that I no longer feel the need to do so. I harboured a dislike for you that matched your own. But now, sister, I carry nothing for you inside my heart. You are nothing to me. Nothing in my eyes. For you are a worthless woman unable to give your own sister what you wish for yourself. And don’t for even a moment think that because you finally found the nerve to look me in the eye — because of a man — that the blasphemous idea of striking me should have ever entered your wretched, lowly mind."

Anesthesia spoke with an intensity that had never been seen in her before. She raised her legs and walked toward Isolde with absolute boldness, her eyes dripping with scorn.

In seconds she arrived and stood an inch from her. The wound on her forehead had already stopped bleeding, and the pain in her stomach had eased considerably.

She was ready to fight.

But Isolde herself was no longer ready, her mind submerged in countless thoughts.

It was not that she hadn’t known her own feelings toward her sister even before Anesthesia was born, but she had never once believed it was because of those feelings that Anesthesia had done everything she had done to her.

Yet Isolde was not truly surprised.

Anesthesia had always had that habit of giving back exactly what she received. It was as if her entire existence was built around resonating with everything around her.

Give her hatred, and she would match it...and surpass it.

Give her attention and love, and she would resonate that same feeling back at you, without shame, even if she felt none of it herself.

That was how she had always been.

However...

"Why?" Isolde asked, her voice almost unsteady. "If you knew what I felt, if you knew it was nothing but jealousy and... and insecurities—" she managed to say the word, her chest constricting so hard her breathing turned shallow "—if you knew all of that... why did you do all of it just to crush me further?"

Just why?

Isolde knew it was selfish and hypocritical of her to think that way, but if Anesthesia had spoken about it with her knowing her feelings and the reasons behind them... then maybe, just maybe, all of this could have been avoided.

"Why shouldn’t I?" Anesthesia spat. "I don’t care about your reasons. I don’t care about anyone’s reasons, Isolde. You chose to hate me, and I returned it in kind. I have neither the desire nor the will to understand anyone’s story or what drove them to do what they did. As long as their actions are directed against me, Anesthesia, and my family..."

Her eyes glowed coldly. "I react in kind. Do you hear me? Now stop wasting my breath and give me back my ring. And one last thing, Isolde. No, two things."

She stepped even closer, until each of them could feel the other’s breath against their face.

"The next time your hand touches my face, you will regret it for the rest of your worthless life. And the next time you call me a whore — me, Anesthesia — I will show you which one of us deserves that name."

At those threats, Isolde’s mind immediately pushed aside every doubt and thought it had been carrying, and returned her sister’s cold stare without flinching.

"You think I am afraid of your threats?" She replied. "Don’t make me laugh, Anesthesia. If you believe you are the only one with the power to act, then by all means, go ahead. And as for calling you a whore..."

She snickered.

"...tell me what you call what you are doing with the Prince, knowing full well you are in a relationship with Emrys. Well...were. Not anymore."

"Unlike you," Anesthesia grated, "I have the future of our family in mind. Everything I do is for the elevation of our family to a higher standing."

"Does telling yourself that help you sleep at night?"

Anesthesia scowled, and Isolde continued, undaunted.

"Because you and I both know you are doing far more for yourself than for the family. But it doesn’t matter. Because you will lose Raven the same way you are slowly losing Emrys." She raised her right hand, and summoned Anesthesia’s ring between her fingers. "No matter how much you try, everyone will eventually leave you because of your lack of sincerity and authenticity. By always resonating with others, you have lost sight of your own resonance. At the end, sister, only those lowly useless admirers will still be standing beside you. No one else."

"Raven," Anesthesia hissed immediately, feeling a sharp, unexpected pain inside her heart at those words "will never leave me."

"That is what you thought about Emrys."

"Raven is not Emrys!" She almost shouted. "He loves me. He loves me more than you can imagine. And I. Will. Not. Lose. Him."

She pronounced each word harder than the last, her gaze on Isolde looking as though she wanted to consume her alive.

Isolde only smiled, extending her finger toward her to return the ring.

Anesthesia scowled, reached for it — and both of them froze as a slurred voice rang out across the Hall.

"Oh my. Already over?"

—End of Chapter 134—