Lena did not stop her. She offered no further warning. The witch merely stepped back a single pace, giving her space like someone who understood that a true choice must be faced alone.
Valerie opened the vial.
The scent was bitter and sharp, mixed with something alien, like rain falling on iron-soaked earth. Her hand trembled slightly, but she did not hesitate. She had hesitated too much in her life already.
Before drinking, she paused.
In her mind, Demian's face surfaced once more. His voice. His promises. The protection he offered with absolute conviction, yet always bound by suffocating ties. She saw Bianca too being dragged away, screaming, powerless. And her father the long shadow that always demanded obedience in the name of blood and honor.
If I don't choose now, Valerie thought, I will never truly choose anything.
She lifted the vial to her lips.
