"Do you remember that old silver-haired woman from years ago? The one with the strange little dog that looked like it belonged in a cartoon?" Emma asked, her fingers tracing the edge of an old photograph. She sat cross-legged on the wooden floor of the living room, the light catching the faint smile playing on her lips. "Do you remember how she tried to stop us from sharing a bed? Locked us in separate rooms but completely forgot about the windows?"

  Jasmine stopped rummaging through a box of childhood memories. "How could I forget?" She let out a laugh. "We climbed out of the windows at night and ran to hide under our favourite tree. And let's not forget, your entire weight landed right on top of me. I swear you nearly broke my neck."

  Emma chuckled, shaking her head. "We were so close to getting caught. That dog of hers, with its absurd bark, like a car alarm coming out of something that barely reached our ankles."

  Jasmine smiled. "I fear that the noise of that dog is burned into my memory."

  Emma turned the old, coffee-stained photograph over in her hands, her eyes distant. "Those were sad days, weren't they?"

  "Yes." Jasmine felt her smile disappear, the weight in her voice betraying her. "I guess they were."

  The pause that followed was heavy. Jasmine felt the cold prickle of Emma's sadness through the bond, a low thrumming against her own heartbeat. When Jasmine finally spoke again, her tone was softer, almost hesitant. "Do you think…"

  Emma cut her off before Jasmine could voice the question, her eyes fixed on the photograph. "We've just found different ways to hide."

  Jasmine forced a smile that didn't match her watery eyes. "Under our favourite tree... do you think it's still standing?" she murmured, her voice swallowed by the stillness around them.

  The question hung in the air, unanswered.

  Emma let out a small, wistful laugh. "We used to dream about running away."

  Jasmine tossed the photograph into a pile, her gaze softening as she turned to face her. "Yeah, we talked about it every day. But we still stayed; having each other made it bearable, Em." She scooted closer, resting her head against Emma's shoulder. "I hated that tree sometimes," Jasmine admitted, her voice barely a whisper. "It was a place to hide. Memories of it make me feel weak."

  Emma was quiet for a moment. Then, she let out a sharp breath, tilting her chin. "Weak?" she echoed. Her smile faltered, her eyes glistening as she quickly brushed at her cheek as though wiping away an invisible speck of dust. Emma's eyes sharpened. "Funny, isn't it?" she murmured, almost to herself.

  Jasmine reached out through their bond, expecting to feel something–– some shift in Emma's emotions, some ripple in her thoughts that would explain the look in her eyes. But there was nothing, only the familiar warm hum that always echoed through the corridors of her mind.

  Yet, for a fraction of a second, Jasmine was sure she saw something flicker in her gaze.

  Jasmine blinked, forcing the thought away. It was a familiar, uncomfortable thought, a shadow that had often lingered between them.

  Emma abruptly rose to her feet. "I'm glad I checked the time. I'm almost late!"

  She stepped into the hallway, adjusting the strap of her purse, her energy suddenly light. The dim glow of the overhead light caught in the golden waves of Emma's hair as she leaned forward, the mirror revealing the way Jasmine was studying her.

  "Are you waiting for Theo?" Emma asked, sliding crimson lipstick across her lips, her gaze meeting Jasmine's through the glass.

  Jasmine nodded. "Yeah. He should be here any minute."

  Emma hummed, checking her phone before flashing Jasmine a practiced grin. "You two should come with me."

  Jasmine hesitated, rolling the thought around before shaking her head. "I think I'll stay in tonight. But you go ahead. Call me if anything happens."

  "All right. I'll see you later." Emma turned to wave goodbye and was out the door, leaving only the silence behind.

  Jasmine stayed on the floor for a long time. She looked at the scattered photographs—the silver-haired woman, the tree, the faces of a past they both claimed to have moved beyond.

  Eventually, the sun dipped below the horizon, turning the room into a blue graveyard of old shadows. She didn't move until the low, rhythmic thrum of a car engine vibrated against the windowpane.

  Theo didn't knock—he didn't have to. When he stepped inside, the air in the room seemed to settle, Jasmine's thoughts smoothing over at the sight of him. She didn't mention the photographs or the strange coldness in Emma's eyes. Instead, she simply let him pull her toward the sofa, seeking the solid, uncomplicated reality of his presence.

  Jasmine rested her head against Theo's shoulder, the slow rise and fall of his breathing syncing with hers, his cologne lingering in the air between them. The soft amber glow of the streetlights filtered through the blinds, breaking the blue apart across the couch and their tangled bodies.

  Theo's fingers traced slow, absent-minded patterns along her hip. She exhaled against his chest, her mind drifting somewhere distant, her sigh too heavy to be dismissed. Theo tightened his hold around Jasmine's waist. "What's up?" He murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

  Jasmine hesitated, staring at an empty space between the shelves as if the answer was written in her egg-shell coloured living room walls. "Emma," she said finally. "Something felt… off the other day."

  Theo hummed against her temple. "Did you ask her?"

  "Not really. I thought maybe I was imagining it, but now I can't stop thinking about it. She seemed… angry with me." She shifted, pressing her cheek against his chest. Her fingers grazed the fabric of his shirt as if grounding herself. "When I reached out through our bond, there was nothing off about her. It's like—" Jasmine's brows furrowed. "Her eyes flickered with anger, but there was no reason for it. No explanation. As if it existed only in her eyes, and then was gone."

  He tucked a strand of stray hair behind her ear. "I think you're overthinking it, Jasmine. If she were angry with you, you would have felt it the moment you reached out. That's how it works, isn't it?"

  He was right. If Emma had truly been angry, if there had been something simmering beneath the surface, she would have felt it. And yet, the doubt remained, because to Jasmine, the eyes never lie.

  "I guess," she murmured, although she didn't believe her own words. She traced a slow pattern across his chest with the tip of her finger. Theo tightened his hold, shifting slightly to press his lips against her temple.

  Jasmine remained quiet.

  After a while, Theo spoke again. "There's something else on your mind, isn't there?"

  Jasmine's voice was barely a whisper. "How did you know what you were?" It was only a sliver of the truth, but even that felt too heavy to hold.

  Her eyes remained closed, a quiet shield against the vulnerability threading through her words. But the ache in her chest, the longing for an answer that might bring some semblance of peace, was impossible to ignore.

  Theo pulled her closer, his gaze searching hers in the silence before he finally spoke. "Some people are born into their skin, and others have to grow into it. You're just... a late bloomer, Jas. It'll click when it's supposed to. Comparing your timeline to mine is only going to hurt."

  It wasn't the answer she was looking for. "How can I be twenty-three and still have no clue what I am?" she asked. "Everyone else figures it out when they're young, but me? I only catch these faint glimmers of who I am. It's like a puzzle with millions of pieces, and I can't piece it together."

  He leaned his chin gently against her hair, his voice soft. "Give it time. And if my opinion matters, I think you're not lost—you're extraordinary. And sometimes, extraordinary things need time to bloom."

  Still, uncertainty pressed at the edges of her thoughts. "You really think that?" she asked, vulnerable in a way she rarely allowed.

  Theo pulled back just enough so he could look at her properly, his expression gentle. "I don't just think it, Jasmine. I know it."

  She searched his eyes for a flicker of doubt or even a polite lie. She found nothing.

  Unable to find the right words, Jasmine simply leaned in, pressing her lips to his in a silent thank-you. When she pulled back, a mischievous glint returned to her eyes. "Is that why you bloomed so early?

  Theo laughed, shaking his head as he shifted closer. "Hardly. I was a disaster for years."

  Jasmine arched a brow. "Are you just saying that to make me feel better?"

  "I'm saying it because it's the truth." He grinned, playful energy sparking in his expression. "But also..." His fingers ghosted toward her ribs, twitching. "I'm going to tickle you into an apology for doubting me."

  Jasmine gasped, scrambling back. Jasmine’s laughter echoed through the house as she dodged him among the furniture.

  When Theo's hands finally caught her, closing around her waist, the world didn't just go dark; it ceased to exist.

  The light, the room, and Theo's face vanished into an absolute, crushing void. A jagged, panicked sound tore from Jasmine's throat. Theo's body reacted before his mind could catch up; his arms released her instantly, as if burned.

  Jasmine collapsed to the floor, her knees striking the wooden boards with a hollow thud. Theo's breath hitched, and panic surged through his veins. As he dropped to her level, his hands hovered uselessly in the air.

  "Jasmine?" His voice cracked. He reached for her shoulder, his eyes frantic. "I'm sorry—I didn't—where are you hurt?"

  Jasmine sucked in a trembling breath, her fingers clawing at the floor as though grounding herself in reality. "Theo…"

  He reached for her chin, gently tilting her face up. Her eyes were wide, staring directly into his, but they remained fixed, glassy and unresponsive to the light.

  "I—I can't see," she whispered, the words sounding fragile enough to shatter.

  The air left Theo's lungs. He cupped her face, his thumbs brushing her cheekbones as if he could physically pull her back into the light. "Look at me, Jasmine. Please." His voice was fraying, raw with terror. "Look at me."

  Jasmine's hands fumbled upward, gripping his wrists with bruising force the moment she found them. She didn't look at him. She couldn't. Instead, her head tilted slightly, as if listening to a frequency he couldn't hear.

  "Something is wrong with Emma," she whispered.

  "I'm going to fix this," he promised, his voice hard with determination.

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  His warmth vanished as he stepped away. Jasmine reached out, her fingers grasping at empty air, but he was already gone. She heard the sharp scrape of keys against the counter before he was back, scooping her into his arms. She felt impossibly small against him, her body trembling against his.

  He carried her out into the night. The wind's sudden bite nipped at her bare arms for only a heartbeat before he shielded her against his chest. Every movement he made was swift yet agonizingly controlled, as if he were carrying something made of thin glass.

  The scent of leather rose to meet her as he eased her into the passenger seat. He didn't pull away immediately; his hand lingered, brushing damp hair from her forehead with a touch so light it made her ache.

  "Tell me where we're going," he urged, his voice the only anchor left in the rising chaos. "Just tell me where, and I'll drive."

  Jasmine's breath hitched, her lungs feeling too tight for her chest. She twisted her fingers into the fabric of her shirt, anchoring herself to the physical world. "I don't know," she choked out, the words feeling like shards of ice in her throat.

  The heavy thud of the door closing muffled the world. A moment later, the car shifted under his weight as he climbed in beside her. The engine roared to life, a low vibration that thrummed through the soles of her feet.

  She heard the soft rhythm of his finger tapping the screen and the electronic chime of a ringing phone.

  "Jake," he breathed, the words tumbling over each other. "Something's wrong with Jasmine. She knows something happened to Emma."

  A brief, heavy silence followed before Jake's voice crackled through the speakers, composed but firm. "Jasmine? Tell us what you see."

  Jasmine let out a shuddering breath, her voice fracturing. "She's hurting... and she's so cold. I can feel it." A hot tear escaped, tracing a helpless, stinging path down her cheek into the dark. "But I can't see. I can't see anything."

  Theo kept one hand on the wheel, the other reaching out to squeeze her knee. "Do you feel her right now?" His voice was a low anchor, tethering her to the car.

  "Yes," Jas whispered, her eyes fixed on nothing. "Everything is... dark and wet." She sucked in a sharp, cold breath. "Her head— hurts. I can feel the wind and the rain; she's outside. But she can't—"

  The scream didn't start in Jas's throat; it ripped the air out of her. A phantom blade seemed to flay the skin of her back. Theo's hands scrambled over her, desperate and clumsy, searching for a wound that wasn't there.

  "Jasmine! What is it? Talk to me!" His voice cracked, but it sounded miles away, muffled by the roaring in Jas's ears.

  She buckled against the seatbelt, her fingers clawing at her own arms to distract from the searing heat in her nerves. "Claws," she gasped, the word tasting like copper. "They're hurting her. Voices—two women."

  She was drowning in Emma's terror. The distinction between me and her was dissolving into a haze of agony. Then, through the static of the pain, a thought that wasn't hers drifted into her mind—scared and soft.

  Cherry blossoms. Find me.

  Jas inhaled sharply, the phantom pressure on her chest lifting just enough for her to find her voice. "She's at the park," she said, her voice trembling but certain. "By the train station. Under the cherry blossom trees."

  As the words left her lips, the darkness shattered. The dashboard, the rain-slicked windshield, and Theo's terrified face snapped back into focus.

  Theo's gaze darted to her, his grip on the steering wheel tightening as he processed the weight of her words. His pulse hammered at his temples, but he forced himself to focus.

  The phone crackled in Theo's grasp, then Jake's voice sliced through the tension, sharp and decisive. "We'll meet you there," he said, the weight of his tone settling into the silence that followed when he ended the call.

  Theo pressed harder on the gas, the car surging forward as the city lights blurred past them, his jaw clenched.

  Jasmine bolted from the car even before the car came to a stop, her pulse thundering in her ears, drowning out everything but the singular thought driving her forward—Emma.

  She didn't stop. Not when the crisp autumn air bit at her exposed skin, nor when the distant echoes of Theo's voice chased after her. She didn't slow down, not until the towering cherry blossom trees came into view, their skeletal branches swaying in the wind.

  Beneath the trees stood three figures.

  As Jasmine approached, the scene sharpened like a dark portrait coming to life. Two women stood side by side, their resemblance unmistakable, like sisters born from the same twisted nightmare.

  Their lips curled into wicked grins, exposing sharp fangs that caught the dim glow of the distant lamppost, gleaming like polished ivory. Their snake-green eyes sliced through the shadows, like hunters who had known, all along, that she would come. Jasmine couldn't help but feel as if she had stepped directly into their carefully laid trap.

  Behind them, partially hidden by the twisted branches of a gnarled tree, stood a young man. He leaned against the bark with an unsettling ease, his posture tall and muscular. The faint glow of the distant lamppost barely touched him, leaving most of his features swallowed by shadow. He didn't speak, didn't move, simply observed the unfolding scene as though it were a performance crafted for his entertainment.

  But what truly chilled Jasmine to the bone was the unmistakable familiarity in the air, the very same presence she had felt that day by the lake. There was no doubt now. It had been him watching her.

  "Jasmine?"

  The voice was a ragged thread of sound, trembling with a pain so deep it barely sounded human.

  Jasmine's gaze dropped. She hadn't seen her at first—a crumpled shape discarded behind the women. Emma's hair was a matted ruin, still gripped tightly in one of the sisters' fists. Her clothes were shredded, revealing jagged claw marks that bled crimson onto the dirt.

  Jasmine lost her breath when she looked into her blue eyes, and there weren't any to look into. In their place were hollow, bloodied sockets. Blood streaked down her face, mingling with the remnants of what had once been her eyes.

  Jasmine covered her mouth with her hands, stifling a sob as tears spilled freely down her cheeks. A desperate part of her clung to the hope that this was just a nightmare, a cruel trick of her mind. But when she pinched the inside of her arm, the sharp sting confirmed the horrifying reality: she was wide awake.

  "Hello, Jasmine. We've been waiting to meet you," said the woman holding onto Emma's hair. Her hands were skeletal, pale skin stretched over sharp, angular bones, ending in long, jagged claws that dripped with fresh blood.

  Her dark brown hair was a tangled, matted mess, resembling a rat's nest, with strands sticking out in wild disarray. Her eyes were unnervingly snake-like, an unnatural green with vertical pupils that seemed to pierce through the air with a predatory gleam. Black scales crept down her neck, glinting faintly like shards of obsidian, adding to her reptilian menace.

  The woman beside her shared the same unsettling aura, though her features were slightly softer. She was shorter, her posture no less threatening, with straight, fiery red hair that fell like a curtain of blood down her back.

  Her eyes mirrored the same venomous green, and her lips curled into a cruel smirk that revealed sharp, fang-like teeth. Her dress, like her companion's, was a patchwork of shredded fabrics.

  "Void, darling," the taller woman purred, her tongue slithering from between her teeth. "Get rid of him and bring the girl to us."

  The young boy stepped forward but never quite escaped the shadows; they simply followed him, refusing to let him go. They curled at his feet and hovered between the strands of his black hair.

  The faint light filtering through the trees fought to reach him, fragile, barely managing to pierce the dense veil of darkness that seemed to pulse in time with his movements.

  Jasmine's gaze met his, but what she saw made her shiver. His eyes were two bottomless voids, two pits of pitch black, devoid of any emotion, life, or a soul.

  He disappeared into the shadows that had once clung to him, reappearing beside Theo in a blink. His hand clamped firmly onto Theo's shoulder, and within seconds, they both disappeared into the same dark haze.

  Jasmine's heart raced, her mind struggling to catch up with what had just unfolded before he materialized beside her, the shadows around him shifting like a storm breaking loose. And before Jasmine could even comprehend the chaos, she felt the world around her disappear into a quiet void.

  When her vision cleared, she was standing beneath the trees, the faint scent of dirt mingling with the cold, mixing with the smell of blood.

  The red-haired woman grabbed hold of Jasmine's neck and dug her claws into her flesh. Jasmine was forced to kneel, and a groan left her lips.

  "You may not know who you are, but we know." A snakelike tongue flicked out of the woman's mouth, slithering over Jasmine's cheek. The wind brushed against the wet trail that remained on her skin, sending a shiver down her spine.

  The brown-haired woman made Emma stand up, and with a fast movement of her hand, she ripped through her ribcage, her claws holding her still-beating heart out into the rain.

  "NO!" Jasmine's scream tore through the air, raw and desperate. "LET ME GO! EMMA! NO! WHAT DID YOU DO?!"

  Emma's body convulsed as the serpent retrieved her hand along with her heart, leaving Emma's chest heaving in a futile attempt to draw breath as though the very air around her had been stolen.

  Jasmine's heart shattered into a million pieces in that very same moment. Her voice broke when she tried to speak out again, her anguish echoing through the empty streets only in loud cries.

  The light died in Emma's eyes before her body even hit the ground.

  And then, in a fraction of a second, the thread between them was severed. Jasmine could no longer feel her, and instead, a hollow, aching nothingness took over the place where Emma had once been. Where Emma had always been.

  The familiar weight of the soul-bonding ring slipped from Jasmine's finger, falling with a soft, metallic chime against the pavement. Only then did she truly know: Emma was dead.

  A shudder ran through Jasmine, but before she could fully register the weight of that grief, something shifted inside her. A sharp, foreign sensation threaded through her bones. Her body tightened, locked in place, as if something had been unleashed from deep within her.

  Then came the pain.

  As her bones cracked, a merciless agony tore through her spine. Her muscles burned, her bones stretched—something inside her was ripping through her flesh, clawing its way out.

  The red-haired woman struck her clawed hand across Jasmine's face and sent her flying across the pavement. As heat grew on her skin and blood ran down her neck, she couldn't help but notice the extra weight she carried on her back.

  Two white feathered wings, luminous beneath the moon's quiet glow, each feather streaked with crimson. Evidence of a transformation that had torn through flesh and bone.

  One wing alone was larger than Jasmine herself, its span casting a shadow that swallowed her trembling figure. They shivered with newness, trembling slightly, as if her body was still struggling to bear their weight, still learning how to contain the immense force within them.

  The man, they had called Void, and the red-haired woman seized Jasmine's arms with unrelenting force, dragging her down until her knees struck the unforgiving concrete. A sharp sting shot through her legs.

  The brown-haired woman stepped forward, her movements slow, savouring the moment. With a cruel smile, she pulled a knife from the folds of her tattered dress, forcing it in front of Jasmine's eyes, as if to show her what was coming.

  The knife gleamed under the fractured moonlight, its long, slender blade forged from a metal so dark it seemed to drink in the surrounding light. Strange, intricate carvings snaked along its surface, twisting in patterns that looked almost alive, as if they had been etched by something far older than human hands.

  Jasmine barely had a moment to react before Void shoved her face against the cold concrete, pressing down with a force that stole the air from her lungs. Her cheek scraped against the rough surface.

  Footsteps echoed from behind her, the brown-haired woman circled her like a predator savouring its next meal.

  Then, the blade touched her skin, cold steel against flesh. It lingered between her shoulder blades, not cutting, not yet—just resting there. A promise.

  Jasmine's pulse pounded in her ears, her body unable to move under Void's grip, under the weight of grief.

  The blade lifted from her skin, and for the briefest, most fragile second, hope flickered inside Jasmine—an impossible, aching wish that someone, somehow, would save her, that everything would rewind, that this nightmare would break apart and leave her standing in the world she knew.

  But Jasmine knew better.

  Her scream shattered the silence, raw and desperate, ripping through the night like a plea to the heavens—like a cry for Theo, for anyone who could pull her from this horror, for anyone who could bring Emma back.

  But the heavens did not answer.

  Instead, they mourned. The sky cracked open, thunder rolling in like a chorus of grief. Rain followed, sweeping down in unrelenting waves, soaking through Jasmine's skin as if the angels themselves wept for her.

  The woman carved into the root of the wings, the steel grinding against new bones slowly enough for her to get to savour every second of her pain.

  That night, Jasmine lost everything.

  Their hands were merciless, their vessels heartless. As though Jasmine's wings had merely been borrowed, destined to be reclaimed, they took them. As though Emma had never belonged to herself, but to them, bound to a fate she had never chosen, never wanted.

  Jasmine watched the serpents walk away with her wings and Emma's heart. While Void was left with the silver rings: the one he picked up from the ground beside Jasmine, and the one he slid off Emma's finger.

  Before he disappeared into the shadows, he gave her one last smile–– beautiful and cruel.

  Jasmine was left lying on the cold concrete, her body trembling, shattered beyond recognition. The icy droplets drummed against the concrete, pooling around her trembling form, washing away the blood in swirling rivulets.

  The rain washed away the blood of both girls, but only one of them was left with the weight of what was lost on December 13th.