I play with the ring, watching the light dance on the polished metal’s surface as I roll it between my fingers. A ray of sunlight catches the part of the band that had been transformed into a diamond, the brilliance nearly bringing tears to my eyes as I squint. I let out a long sigh and shake my head at the obvious. How could it have been otherwise?

Around me, the villa’s courtyard is deserted except for the delicate white stone statues, motionless at this hour of the day. During the Season of Mists, most of the servants attend to duties in our metropolitan palazzo, leaving our Kuna retreat abandoned. That’s precisely why I came: to lose myself in the solitude of the moment, in its melancholy torpor.

Wingspan stirs suddenly, shaking his feathered mane.

‘Sleep, my friend. Don’t worry, everything will be fine.’

He doesn’t hesitate, sprawling out with a rustle through the bushes. Through the pointed archways overlooking the manicured garden, I see frost-covered vines in the distance, looking frail this time of year. A few cypresses rise like lances, silhouetted against the misty lagoon.

I recall my childhood. Whenever I managed to escape my tutors' watchful eyes, I’d wander across the island, hiding among the vineyards. I escaped my isolation by imagining a thousand adventures, playing with the Eidolons I summoned, who never judged me. A pang of sorrow pierces my heart as I think of Kadri. I missed the old wolf terribly...

Footsteps pull me from my dreary reverie. Who could it be? Asor, or Dorota? Odd—it seemed to me the gardener and his wife had gone to town this morning. I straighten up, glancing toward the potential intruder, but Wingspan beats me to it, raising his head with a hint of delight. He’s caught the scent.

‘Anuncia’, he simply says.

My sister appears, dressed in a long white gown lined with ermine. She’s donned a fur coat to fend off the winter chill. She affectionately strokes Wingspan’s neck before offering him a treat. My Alter Ego has always adored my younger sister, ever since her childhood. That’s only natural, after all—they practically grew up together. Practically. How old was she when Wingspan came into my life? Twelve, thirteen years?

Anuncia notices me as I climb down from my perch and approach her. She returns my smile, though I sense a hint of pity in her gaze.

‘How did you know I was here?’

She rolls her eyes.

‘Maybe because you always come here when you have something to brood over?’, she replies bluntly. ‘And you can’t blame me for wanting to spend a little time with my big brother when the hour of your departure draws near.’

‘I suppose.’

She takes my arm.

‘Walk with me’, she says, leaving me no chance to decline.

I let her lead me as we climb the few steps out of the patio.

‘You’ve got something on your mind.’

It isn’t a question—I know her too well for that. She learned from Father all too well. But fortunately, she didn’t inherit his dourness or draconian nature. On the contrary, she has this way of getting what she wants with charm and gentleness, a trait more akin to Mother. She always has something in mind because none of her actions are ever random.

‘Other than enjoying your company?’

‘You tell me.’

She gives me a pout, then lets out a long sigh.

‘I’ll miss you.’

There’s always been a bit of reservation between us, likely tied to the seven years that separate us. I remember her birth. Mother was confined to her room, and Father forbade me from seeing her. The constant flow of midwives coming and going. The stifling atmosphere. The muffled groans filtering through the doors. And Father’s hand, firm and immovable, resting on my shoulder like a vise. I recall the knot in my stomach and the selfish anger I felt at not being able to join the celebrations in town...

Then I heard the first cries—the newborn’s cries. When I was finally allowed inside, I saw the bloodied linens. I smelled the sweat and alcohol. Mother extended her hand as I approached. Despite her disheveled, sweat-drenched hair and obvious exhaustion, she radiated happiness. She held in her arms—as if it were the most precious thing in the world—a small bundle of cloth, inside which wailed with all its might a tiny, wrinkled creature whose skin shifted between pink and purplish hues. ‘Let me introduce you to Anuncia’, she said simply.

‘Do you hate me, Sig?’

I turn to her in astonishment and alarm.

‘Why would you say that?’

She shrugs.

‘I always benefited from Father’s leniency because you were the one destined to take his place. I had freedoms you didn’t. Then, when you joined the Ordis, didn’t you feel he lost interest in you and focused all his attention on me?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. I might have grievances with Father, but they don’t involve you. Not in the slightest.’

She looks at me with her wide eyes.

‘Are you sure?’

Heart pounding, I wonder if some part of me harbors resentment toward her. Then I shake my head, certain of the opposite.

‘No, Nuncia. If I hold a grudge, it’s against myself—for shirking my responsibilities and leaving everything on your shoulders. I threw a tantrum without understanding the consequences at the time.’

She tightens her hold on my arm, resting her head on my shoulder.

‘You’re right, you know? I have something to tell you.’

‘What is it, little sister?’

‘I know this isn’t the ideal moment to say it, but I might not get another chance before you leave. I... I’ve pledged myself to Amaro Arundhani. We’ll announce our engagement soon.’

I feel my chest tighten as a pang of jealousy finds its way into my thoughts. Perhaps there is some bitterness after all. She had unknowingly taken everything from me—Father’s regard, Mother’s attention. I force the thought away, hoping she doesn’t notice my unease.

‘That’s wonderful! Arundhani? He’s a good match. But... is this what you want? Is it truly your choice?’

‘Yes, don’t worry. I care for him, and this engagement is the best thing for both of us.’

I avert my eyes to hide my grimace and pain. I know it’s futile; she reads me like an open book. But I can’t help it. I need to conceal my own sorrow.

‘I’m sorry, Sig. I know how much this meant to you.’

‘Don’t be. Everything is as it should be. Father would have disapproved anyway.’

‘Sig…’

I cut her off.

‘I made this choice—to leave, to enlist. I’m the architect of my own misfortune. But I know I couldn’t have done otherwise. All my life, I’ve craved freedom—at the expense of everything else, unfortunately.’

‘We both have paths laid out for us now.’

We move through the languid sitting room, past furniture covered with sheets like slumbering ghosts. Anuncia opens a bay window leading onto the terrace overlooking the sea. For a few moments, she watches the lazy flight of frigatebirds drifting over the foggy expanse.

‘You’ll write to me?’

I smile at her.

‘As often as I can.’

‘Which, in your language, probably means never.’

‘Don’t be silly. I’ll write.’

She squeezes my arm, reassured.

‘If you don’t, I’ll summon a courier through the Gestalt and make sure everyone hears me scolding you!’

I laugh and roll my eyes.

‘Yes, ma’am.’

‘And... Sig?’

‘Hmmm?’

‘I know you’re sailing toward the freedom you’ve always wanted—the freedom to be yourself and not Father’s pawn. But I want you to remember two things. The first is a statement: don’t worry about me. I know what I want, and I won’t let anyone divert me from my goals. The second is a plea: when you’re far away, remember me, will you? Remember us and all you’ve left behind.’

I frown.

‘How could…’

‘Let me finish. Promise me you’ll remember, no matter how much time passes or how far you go. Remember those who stay behind.’

I meet her grave, almost pleading gaze and eventually nod.

‘It’s a promise.’