—You don’t think that whole storm was just to tint her hair, do you?

Rockridge’s furrowed face rose in Adelaide’s mind like cracked bark. Mira’s cheek had been split by that speed like wind-slashed silk. The bastard’s work darkened, like ink blooming in water.

Mira hadn’t accelerated because her Innate Domain was caged, like a bird with clipped wings.

There had been tracks in the sand long before. When that sand surge roared like a desert tide, Mira still didn’t unleash the Time Domain.

It wasn’t forgetfulness; the Innate Domain twines tighter than affinity, like vines hugging a pillar, the self turned outward like a mirrored lake.

It isn’t a choice. Adelaide’s Sacrifice Domain flares like a reflex, a spark under skin. Mira’s instincts should ignite in crisis like a match in storm.

At the birthday, her Time Domain cradled Adelaide’s pierced heart like cupped hands, before she’d even studied magic.

That’s why Adelaide was grinding her teeth like a wolf on a chain. She should’ve seen it, the way frost should remember winter.

Tessmi’s Lament… Tessmi’s Lament! Damn it—Toka had spelled out the effect like a bell rung in her ear.

She knew then: the hair was a side effect, a ripple after a stone. The ban cut the bloodline at the root, like an axe to a tree.

In short, she wouldn’t be herself, like a river forced through a dam. Affinity might hold, but the Innate Domain wouldn’t leave untouched.

She’d still used it before, but Rockridge must’ve set a lock during the remodel, a rusted clasp on a door. That flute was the key turning.

“Why hide this from me, Mira?” Adelaide’s voice trembled like glass under a cold wind.

“I’m fine—”

“How could you be fine!”

Her rage lay under thin ice, a fire asleep in frost, and Mira’s words tapped it like a pebble.

How could it be nothing? The Innate Domain knots to the soul like a red thread. Chain it, and the soul loses its reins.

Adelaide had tasted that tearing like paper ripped wet; she knew that pain like salt rubbed in. Mira standing like a still pond shredded her patience.

Months later, the gate called reason buckled like a dam to a flood. Heat in her belly rose like a coal fanned bright, perfect fuel for the blaze.

One voice howled to run back to Balad and cut Rockridge down, like a blade through rotten rope. Another, colder voice coiled around Mira like winter smoke.

You’re the elder sister, aren’t you? Then punish your disobedient, secretive sister like a storm lashes reeds. Strip her, bite her neck, whip her like rain.

Dig your nails in, carve your marks like claws in bark, until she learns, until she never hides a seed in her heart again.

What, move—don’t you hate losing control, like a horse without reins? Being dumped by your parents didn’t wake you, nor Rockridge’s boot on your throat?

You must keep everyone in your hands, like threads on a loom. You did before; you do now. This is the perfect hour.

Adelaide drank the camellia scent at Mira’s throat like warm tea. The devil inside beat its wings, seeing a chick fallen from the nest.

She was weakest now; you have clean reason like a blade’s edge. Catch her fault, smash her inner fences like snapping a goldfinch’s wings.

Pry her mouth like a clam, strip the masks she hides behind, force confession, force retreat, turn her into yours, turn her—

Clack—the sword hit the floor like a dropped bell.

“I… I’m fine…”

…

Adelaide froze like a deer in light. The repeated words struck like a charm, and every raging thought halted like a cart at a cliff.

It wasn’t that Mira grew fierce. The opposite—her voice was small like a moth’s wing. Her head dipped like a flower in rain, eyes on the boards.

Following her gaze, Adelaide saw the trembling hand, a leaf in wind. That tremor unhooked her fingers from the hilt like thawed ice.

What… was I thinking?

We reforged our bond like a blade in fire. Do I mean to shatter it again like a glass dropped?

Her breath paused like a held note. She stepped back, unsure, like a swimmer feeling undertow.

“I’m sorry, Mira…” She pressed her lips like a seal, hesitated, then spoke, soft as dusk. “Sister’s just… very worried. Promise you’ll tell me next time, okay?”

“…Mm.”

It wasn’t silence, nor refusal. Adelaide let out a breath like steam. She took Mira’s hand, palm to palm, warmth like sunlight between them.

“Come on. Time to regroup with everyone.”

She had to change tactics, like a sailor tacking with the wind. Don’t overstimulate Mira; be proactive, but gentle, like rain on spring soil.

She’d pry her heart open with kindness, mend the bond back to the night before the birthday, like stitching silk without tearing.

Adelaide decided that day, and moved at once like a dancer finding the beat.

First, she put a little space between them, like cool shade after noon. Using the convoy’s shopping as a pretext, she kept Mira with crowds.

She never touched the Innate Domain topic, like stepping around a sleeping dog. She avoided solitude and avoided provocation, soft steps on rice paper.

It worked. When the convoy rolled out again, the awkward fog between them had thinned like morning mist.

Once Mira no longer flinched, Adelaide pressed her gentle advance like tide on a shore.

“Mira, teach your sister how to cook~”

“Eh?”

Mira blinked like a startled bird. They’d just reached camp, the wagon still creaking. She was heading for the kitchen when Adelaide caught her wrist like a ribbon.

“It’s fine. I’ll cook.”

“Sister wants to try, okay~”

Her tone was playful like a cat’s purr, but her face was earnest, brows tight as a bowstring. The tiny tension made Mira fluster like a rabbit.

They tugged back and forth like children with a kite. In the end, Adelaide’s grip on her wrist held like ivy, and Mira yielded.

They stepped into the kitchen space, air warm like bread. Mira pulled two portions from the food car, neat as stacked bricks.

She meant to help with the chopping, but Adelaide reached for the knife first, a blade with a blush of rust like dried blood.

“Don’t, it’s dangerous,” she said, grabbing for the blade like catching a falling shard.

“If Mira chops, how’s that different from you just cooking?” Adelaide’s complaint landed like a pebble in a pond.

Mira’s mouth opened like a shell, then she let it go like a sigh.

Fine. Her sister could trade blows with her using the Bloodsword like steel against steel. Worrying about a kitchen cut felt overcautious, like a helmet at dinner.

She thought that—then Adelaide caught her wrist again, guided her hand onto the back of her knife hand like placing a leaf on a stream.

“Mira, teach sister how to slice.”

…

“Don’t make trouble, Adelaide.” Mira started to pull back like a fish on a line.

Adelaide sighed like wind over dunes. “If Mira won’t teach me blade work, I’ll go learn from the supplier—”

“No!” Mira cut in, reflex bright as a spark, then blushed like dawn, realizing what she’d revealed. The word was out like birds freed.

Her sister would inch forward, and she would let her, like tide to sand. What else could she do?

“For meat, press the blade to your knuckles. Curve your fingertips back, small like hooks…”

Mira stood behind Adelaide, explaining points like stars, guiding her hand like a river guiding a boat, setting a record for closeness.

“O—oh…” Adelaide stammered like a flute breath. Her arm brushed Mira’s skin like silk; her back felt two warm softness pressing like pillows.

Camellia aroma drifted on desert heat like a perfumed breeze. Mira’s pale neck hovered by Adelaide’s cheek like porcelain.

If she turned and tugged down the scarf, one bite—

No. Not now. Not this thought. She clenched her molars like a trap, caging her fangs and the itch in her belly like beasts behind bars.

She knew closing in would rouse hunger like thunder under skin. But today, she came close to test a guess, like a finger on a wire.

Hidden beneath fabric, a tiny array flashed red like a coal. A vial on her skirt hoop drained its milky gel like dew evaporating.

A chain closed around her mind like iron on a book. Adelaide’s face paled like chalk; her knife grip almost slipped like a wet bar.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Mira’s voice pricked like a pin.

Adelaide only shook her head, light as a leaf. “All good.”

“Then why just now…”

“I suddenly remembered something happy.” She smiled like a lantern lit at dusk, and she wasn’t lying.

Her belly and fangs had gone quiet like embers turned ash. Mira’s camellia scent still charmed like spring, but had lost its fatal pull like wine watered.

Because Adelaide had hypnotized herself like a snake charmer taming her own serpent.

Before leaving the desert town, she’d reclaimed the dragonized man’s corpse like a scavenger crow, and stripped it for offerings like a ritual.

She prized the brain tissue most, a seed of suggestion like soft clay. As in class, she used brain tissue to hypnotize herself for a profile.

She did it again, but with a twist like a knot in a ribbon: she hammered in that she was Mira’s good sister, firm as a stamp.

A good sister bears no stray desire toward her sister, like a clear mirror with no smudge.

She’d doubted the method like a coin tossed, unsure it would land true. But the result gleamed like a clean blade.

I’m a genius, she thought, buoyant as a kite. Now she could control herself beside Mira like reins in firm hands.

She felt so good she almost sang, like a lark, until a sting bit her fingertip like a needle.

“Yikes!”

“You— quick, rinse.” Mira pulled Adelaide to the basin like leading a child, washing the cut under cool water like spring over stone.

She disinfected, steady as a nurse, and sighed, words dry as tinder. “I told you, I should do the cooking.”

“Okay…” Adelaide drooped a moment like a wilted leaf, but the little mishap didn’t keep her down like a cloud.

Soon, she found a new use for that hypnosis, bright as dawn after fog.