I will never let you fall

Every wound will shape me...

Never did Nephele expect her sister to become a stranger to her, even in their rivalries. The woman before her is but a shade of her former glory, a diseased tree whose roots cling to life by siphoning it from all living things around it. There is no time for mourning, however. There had been enough time for that since the Blight had first taken hold and she had fruitlessly tried to find answers. Now is a time for action. Rebellion. Antagonism in a way Nephele had never experienced, taking arms against the one whose love she had never questioned.

Like a sickly she-wolf, Eriadne's snipping and snarling is only a sign of worsening ailment. Nephele would never stick her hand down the den of such a beast. But this is her sister, her home, the heart of her world. There is nothing Nephele wouldn't do, wont do, to save her. Forgiveness is no question. Whatever Eriadne seeks to do to her, it is already forgotten. This is not her twin, and she knows those hands would never hurt her with clarity on her side. So when hard hands push her away, voice spitting poison, Nephele soldiers on. Eri knows her name, no matter how it's twisted on her tongue, and that is a good thing.

"Your sister," she declares, voice quiet but firm. She advances again, undaunted by the shove. Relentless. For even the sharpest of rocks are smoothed by the eternal battering of the ocean waves. "I am your other half. Your completion. I am your faith, and you are my courage. I know your soul, and I am here. Forever. Until the end. No matter how you push me away." They are likely meaningless words to Eri now, but she can't leave them unsaid. So she rises from the ground, wings swift, far faster than Eriadne has ever managed. Like a diving hawk she throws the entirety of her small body against Eriadne, and brandishes the rose at any open patch of skin she can find. Praying to Vi all the while to bring her sister home to her.

Every scar will build my throne