The ball was already alive with whispers when Isabella's half-brother began his games.
"Look at her," he drawled, his smile sharp as glass. "She stands like a beggar at a feast. Quiet. Empty. Invisible. Just like the woman who birthed her."
The crowd chuckled nervously, their laughter eager to side with cruelty. Isabella's jaw tightened, but she stayed silent.
Then her half-sister glided forward, every step dripping arrogance. She smiled—a cruel, poisonous smile.
"Invisible?" she purred. "No, brother. She's not invisible. She's a stain. A stain born from a woman too weak to stay alive. Tell me, Isabella…" Her voice turned mocking, her eyes glittering. "…when you close your eyes at night, do you hear it? The sound of the dirt closing over your mother's coffin? Or do you wonder if she chose death just to escape the shame of raising you?"
The hall gasped. But she wasn't finished.
Her sister leaned closer, her words dripping venom that turned the crowd cold.
"Perhaps she preferred the worms to your company. At least they knew how to feast."
The words sliced Isabella open. Her chest heaved, her blood roaring. For a breath, her eyes went dark—then the darkness shattered.
Light poured from them. A violet fire, so bright, so merciless it seemed forged from fury itself. Her eyes burned with a brilliance that scorched the air, searing into the skin of those who dared to look.
Her sister screamed—a raw, piercing sound—as the blaze swallowed her. She staggered, clawing at her face, her once-perfect features twisting in agony.
"My eyes! I—I can't—" She collapsed, writhing, the purple fire stabbing into her vision like a thousand shards of glass.
The beauty she flaunted, the cruelty she wore like a crown—both shattered. Her sight was gone, if only for now, but the pain was enough to make her claw bloody lines down her own cheeks.
The crowd recoiled, horrified and silent. Yet beneath the shock, there was something else—satisfaction. For once, cruelty had turned on itself.
Her brother stumbled backward, his arrogance stripped bare, his face pale with terror. He said nothing. Could say nothing.
Isabella stood unmoving, her violet eyes still blazing, an unearthly fire that turned her grief into power.
Theodore's breath caught. He had longed to silence the siblings himself, to end their venom—but this? This was far greater. A fury not of wolves, but of destiny. His envy twisted, mingling with awe.
Purple eyes. Crimson blood. Impossible… yet undeniable.
Dantae's gaze was darker still, hunger flickering beneath his calm mask. He felt it like a prophecy fulfilled, a truth whispered to only him.
She is no stain. She is the blood reborn. The leader fate denied me.
The hall trembled in silence. The siblings' insult had been filth, but it was already forgotten. All that remained in memory was the fire in Isabella's eyes, and the justice it had carved into flesh.