I will never let you fall

Every wound will shape me...

Her sister's weight pulls on her arms, but she bears it well, lowering them slowly to the bottom of the Pit. Nephele has not visited it since they were both children, curious and darting in and out on clumsy, weak wings to see what their little prison looked like. It is far darker and more imposing now as an adult. As their feet touch damp, cold soil, Neph takes a deep but undeniably shaky breath. She has to leave her sister down here in the dark and cold. It's a cruel unfairness but she has exhausted the injustice of their situation already.

There's nothing more to do than say goodbye.

Cupping her sister's face in her hands, knowing the shape and detail of her construction even in the dark, Nephele leans their foreheads together to try and draw the strength that abandoning her twin will take. "I love you, Eri," she whispers, the awful echo of the Pit giving her chills. Pulling away, her wings hum restlessly, ready to fly out and plant her last rose. It is the only phrase she can give her sister while she's still lucid. Hopefully it will give her strength when the Blight muddles her mind again.

Her hands linger uselessly on Eriadne's skin as her wings draw her from the bottom of the Pit. And when she reaches the top, pale light burning her eyes, she does not look back. Flies as quickly as she can for the Shore, because if she looks back she will join her sister in exile to ease the breaking of her own heart.

Every scar will build my throne