The Unforgotten Face of Betrayal

In the midst of Embercliff Citadel's bustling courtyard, a tapestry of colors and movement unfolded. Sunlight cascaded down, casting warm rays upon the scene. Amid this vibrancy stood Andromeda, her gaze fixated upon her young sister Delphine. Yet, what should have been a moment of familial recognition was marred by a storm of emotions that surged within Andromeda.

Delphine stood there in her light lavender frock, a vision of innocence and youthfulness. Her black hair was adorned with a lavender ribbon that danced in the gentle breeze. The delicate fabric of her dress seemed to shimmer, exuding an air of elegance befitting a noble lady. But to Andromeda, the rich colors and delicate details of the scene were eclipsed by a haze of memories from a past life that intertwined with the present reality.

The soft fabric of Andromeda's own frock clenched within her trembling fists, the gentle material a stark contrast to the tempestuous emotions raging within her. Her gaze pierced Delphine, an intensity of hatred simmering just beneath the surface. The girl before her might appear innocent to others, but to Andromeda, she was a reminder of treachery and pain, a walking embodiment of betrayal.

"Andromeda?" Delphine's voice cut through the tension, a note of confusion in her tone. She took a cautious step forward, her innocent gesture amplifying the turmoil in Andromeda's heart. But then, as if a switch had been flipped, the storm within Andromeda intensified, emotions darkening like clouds casting shadows over the sun.

Her eyes narrowed, the hazel depths ablaze with an inferno of hatred. In that moment, Delphine's youthful visage transformed into the face of an adversary who had shattered Andromeda's world. The person who had guided her towards a path of ruin, leading her astray until all was lost. It was a face that had turned a blind eye to benevolence, erasing the past with cruel nonchalance.

"You wretched thing!" The sound that erupted from Andromeda's throat was raw and primal, a scream that cut through the courtyard's peaceful ambiance. Heads turned, gazes directed towards the source of the outburst, but Andromeda's focus remained unwavering. The servants paused in their tasks, their attention drawn to the unfolding spectacle. Yet, Andromeda's thoughts were far from those who watched.

Delphine stumbled back, landing hard on the ground. Shock replaced her initial concern as the flurry of punches and strikes rained down upon her. Desperation twisted her features as she instinctively tried to shield herself, the weight of her sister's blows inflicting both physical pain and emotional confusion. "Andromeda, stop! What's gotten into you? It hurts!"

But Andromeda was a tempest, a vessel consumed by the fires of her vengeance. With every punch, with every strike, she sought to release the pent-up fury that had festered within her. Memories from a past life surged to the forefront, feeding the inferno of hatred that had taken control. Her young fists became instruments of retribution, driven by a relentless desire for justice.

"I won't stop!" Andromeda's voice, tinged with madness, cut through the air like a blade. Her fists collided with Delphine's form, her anger intensifying with each impact. It was as if the pain she had endured in her past life was finally finding release, her blows serving as a conduit for the overwhelming hatred that had consumed her.

Amidst the chaos, guards and servants rushed forward in an attempt to intervene, their expressions a mixture of shock and urgency. The once-peaceful courtyard had transformed into a battleground of emotions, and they struggled to navigate the tempest that had been unleashed. Hands reached out to pull Andromeda away, voices pleaded for her to cease her onslaught.

"Princess Andromeda, please stop! Princess Delphine has passed out," one of the servants implored, their words a desperate plea for reason amidst the frenzy. The guards, too, grappled with the task of separating the furious Andromeda from her fallen sister. The effort was evident in their strained faces, their strength tested by the force of a royal family's blessing.

Yet, despite their best efforts, the chaos persisted. The struggle between darkness and reason, between the agony of the past and the possibility of redemption, played out in every blow Andromeda delivered. The courtyard, once a haven of tranquility, bore witness to a storm of emotions that threatened to consume all in its path.

In the midst of the chaotic clash between Andromeda's rage and Delphine's pain, a sudden cold voice pierced the tumultuous air like a shard of ice. The resonance of that voice was enough to halt Andromeda's frenzied assault, her fists suspended mid-air as shock washed over her. Her gaze slowly rose, as if in a trance, compelled to seek the source of that chilling command.

And there, standing amidst the turmoil with an aura of regal authority, was her mother—the grand duchess of Embercliff Citadel. Her presence exuded an undeniable air of control, her form towering with a regal grace that was as much a evidence to her noble lineage as it was to her power.

Her long black waves of hair cascaded down her shoulders. A black diamond hairpiece nestled amidst her obsidian hair, a jewel as rare and precious as her own authority. Gray eyes, cold and siren-like, pierced through the chaos with an unwavering intensity. They held a controlled fury that burned beneath the surface, a storm barely contained behind the façade of noble decorum. The sparks of embers were flying as she tried to keep the powers of her fire spirit under control. The maids standing closer to her had quickly stepped away in fear and panic.

Her figure, slim and elegant, was adorned in a gown that bore the mark of careful craftsmanship and refined taste. The fabric flowed like liquid silk, the color mirroring the flames in her eyes. Intricate jewelry graced her neck and wrists, each piece a symbol of the noble bloodline she represented.

As the fire danced in the grand duchess's gray eyes, Andromeda felt a chill creep down her spine. Her mother's presence commanded obedience, even in the face of her own uncontrollable rage. The sudden stillness that settled upon the courtyard was almost palpable, a testament to the grand duchess's power to quell even the most tumultuous of storms. Even more so, seeing her alive, well and standing there had made her body and heart go numb. Her mother was alive, she was still there.

"Andromeda," her mother's voice cut through the air like a blade, its frigid tones carrying a weight that could freeze the heart. It was a voice accustomed to command, each word dripping with the icy precision of a blade forged by years of aristocratic upbringing. Her accent, cultivated through generations of nobility, lent a regal cadence to her speech. She sounded the same as her memories of her. Andromeda never saw her beautiful

"Cease this needless display at once," her mother continued, the syllables of each word enunciated with a chilling clarity. "Such unrefined behavior has no place within these walls. You stand as a representative of Bethels—how dare you sully the prestige like this."

Andromeda's breath caught in her throat, her hands still poised in mid-air, her fingers trembling from both the exertion of her blows and the shock of her mother's intervention. Her own emotions, once a tempest of hatred and revenge, seemed to quiver before the storm that was her mother's gaze. She loved her mother and she feared her also. She wanted to finish what she had started. But she knew she would be stopped before she could do. She fists had blood all over them and the white color of her frock was soaking in the color.

Duchess Anastasia's eyebrows were knitted together and the fan she was holding earlier had already turned into ash near her feet as she silently stared at the bloody scene before her. It puzzled her but more than that, she was angry at what Andromeda had done.

Andromeda's fists slowly lowered, her anger receding like a tide pulled back by an invisible force. The servants and guards seemed to let out a sigh of relief.

"Take Delphine to her chambers immediately," the grand duchess commanded, her voice unwavering. "Summon the doctor to attend to her injuries." She crisply spoke and Delphine's maids were already rushing while the guard gently picked her up. Duchess Anastasia didn't even flinch at the sight of her badly beaten younger child.

"Andromeda," her mother stated with a coldness as the embers around her died down. "You, will accompany me to my chambers. There are matters that require immediate addressing."

The grand duchess's voice remained as cold and controlled as ever, a veneer of regal dignity that barely concealed the turbulent emotions beneath. As she turned, the elegant sweep of her gown seemed to echo the gravity of her command, leaving no room for dispute or dissent.

As Andromeda gazed at her mother's retreating figure, the duchess's steps echoing with regal authority as she strode back inside, a sense of quiet descended upon the once chaotic courtyard. Her fingers unclenched, and she regarded her own fists, marred by the evidence of her anger, as though realizing the full extent of her actions.

Turning her gaze toward the crumpled form of her badly hurt sister, Delphine, Andromeda's emotions remained a tempest within her, though now they took on a more complex hue. The anger still lingered, an ember refusing to be extinguished, but intertwined with it was something else—a sense of strange satisfaction, almost like a release.

Her lips curled into a chilling smile, a sardonic expression that seemed to dance with a mixture of twisted amusement and a hint of satisfaction. Delphine's servants, sensing the shift in atmosphere, hurried about with greater urgency, their movements an echo of the tension that hung in the air.

In the wake of the chaos and confrontation, Andromeda's gaze flickered from her bloody fists to the sight of her wounded sister, a maelstrom of conflicting emotions churning within her. The grand duchess's icy presence and the subsequent encounter with Delphine had unearthed something deeper—something that was perhaps a darker facet of her own nature.

As Andromeda's chilling smile persisted, the air around her seemed to ripple with an aura that was both unsettling and intoxicating.

The storm within her had not abated—