"Please," the younger Evangeline had said, her voice trembling yet steady. "Please help me, Master Veda. My sister... she doesn't have much time left. I've heard so much about you. You're my last hope."
In that moment, Veda remembered feeling something she rarely felt for anyone—a pang of sympathy. She had seen so many like Evangeline—people who sought her out in desperation, people who clung to hope in the face of death. But this girl… there was something different about her. Something raw, something that stirred something deeper within Veda's heart. She couldn't ignore her. She had felt compelled to help her.
But now, as she stood in the present, staring at the veiled woman who was once that desperate girl, Veda felt her chest tighten.
The years had changed them both—hardened them. And yet, here they were, standing face to face again, the past seeping into the present like a wound that had never fully healed.