Rannah died.
Yes, Rannah indeed died.
The icy chamber stood eerily still. The only sound was the distant echo of Hannah’s anguished scream, swallowed by the vast emptiness around her. The warmth of Rannah’s body was fading fast, her once-bright eyes now lifeless. The shards lay motionless in the snow, their glow completely extinguished.
Hannah clutched her sister’s lifeless form, her breath ragged. The cold bit at her skin, but she barely felt it—her entire world had just collapsed.
“No…” Her voice was barely a whisper, cracking under the weight of her grief. “No, no, no. Wake up.”
She shook Rannah gently at first, then harder, desperation clawing at her chest. “You don’t get to leave me! Not now!”
But Rannah didn’t move.
A choked sob tore through Hannah as she gritted her teeth. Tears blurred her vision, spilling onto her sister’s pale face. She had lost people before. They had both lost people. But this? This was different.
A heavy silence pressed in on her. The Keeper stood motionless, watching with unreadable eyes.
Hannah’s hands trembled as she brushed a stray lock of hair from Rannah’s face. Her sister, the one who had always pushed forward, always fought harder, was gone. Just like that.
And for what?
Her gaze snapped toward the Keeper, burning with fury. “Was this your plan all along?” she spat. “Make her think she had a choice, just so she’d die for your stupid shard?”
The Keeper did not flinch. “The sacrifice was hers to make.”
Hannah let out a bitter, hollow laugh. “And what do we get in return? A glowing rock? Some prophecy fulfillment?” She wiped at her face angrily, voice breaking. “None of it is worth this.”
The chamber remained silent. Even the wind outside had quieted, as if the world itself mourned.
Then, something shifted.
A faint hum resonated through the air. Hannah’s breath hitched as the shards began to glow again, dimly at first, then steadily brighter. The pulsing light bathed the chamber in a ghostly silver hue.
And then—
Rannah’s body twitched.
Hannah gasped, her heart leaping to her throat. “Rannah?”
Her sister’s fingers curled slightly. A shaky breath escaped her lips, shallow but real.
Hannah nearly collapsed in relief. “Oh, thank the gods—you’re—”
But something was wrong.
Rannah’s eyes fluttered open, but they weren’t the same. The warm, determined gaze Hannah knew was gone. Instead, her irises shimmered with an unnatural silver glow, reflecting the shards’ light.
Hannah’s stomach dropped.
“Rannah?” she whispered, reaching for her.
Her sister sat up slowly, movements stiff, unnatural. The moment she spoke, Hannah’s blood ran cold.
“I am not Rannah.”
The voice that came from her sister’s lips was layered, echoed. Hollow. Something ancient.
Hannah jerked back. “No. No, no, no—don’t do this. You are Rannah.”
But the figure that looked like her sister only tilted its head, studying Hannah as if seeing her for the first time. “The vessel is intact. The cycle continues.”
A chill, deeper than any winter cold, sank into Hannah’s bones.
Rannah was gone.
And something else had taken her place.
Hannah’s breath came in sharp gasps as she stared at the thing wearing Rannah’s face. The sister she had fought beside, bled for, and protected with everything she had—was gone.
And yet, here she was. Speaking, moving, breathing. But not her.
Hannah clenched her fists. “You’re lying,” she whispered, voice hoarse. “You are Rannah.”
The silver-eyed being regarded her with an eerie calm. Then, something flickered in its gaze—something distant but familiar. A shadow of recognition. A memory clinging to the edges of existence.
“Hannah…” The voice was softer now, layered still, but with a trace of warmth.
Hannah’s chest tightened. “Rannah?”
The glow in Rannah’s eyes dimmed slightly, her posture loosening as if whatever force had overtaken her was retreating. She looked down at her hands, then at the shards beside her, their pulsing light now steady and unwavering.
She swallowed hard. “It’s me. But… I don’t have much time.”
Hannah lurched forward, gripping Rannah’s shoulders. “Don’t say that. We’ll fix this. We always do.”
But Rannah only smiled—a sad, knowing smile. “Not this time.”
A lump formed in Hannah’s throat.
Rannah cupped her cheek, her touch warm despite the icy wind swirling around them. “You have to let go,” she said gently. “You’ve fought enough. It’s time to live, Hannah.”
Hannah shook her head violently. “I don’t want to live without you!”
“You have to.” Rannah’s grip tightened. “We always knew this journey would end in sacrifice. But I never wanted it to be yours.” She glanced at the shards, a soft glow reflecting in her silver-streaked irises. “This power—it’s not something we were meant to wield forever. I can feel it pulling me apart. I don’t have long.”
Hannah’s breath shuddered. “There has to be another way.”
Rannah smiled again, but this time, there was peace in her expression. “There isn’t. And that’s okay.”
Hannah bit back a sob as Rannah’s hands slowly fell away.
“Promise me something,” Rannah whispered.
Hannah nodded, unable to trust her voice.
“Live.”
The word was so simple. But it held a weight heavier than all the battles they had fought, all the losses they had endured.
Rannah gave her one last look—soft, filled with unspoken love—before she took a step back. The glow from the shards enveloped her completely, wrapping her in a shimmering light. And then, just like that…
She was gone.
The cave fell silent, the cold biting at Hannah’s skin once more. The shards, now lifeless, lay motionless in the snow. The only thing that remained was the faint warmth of Rannah’s touch on her cheek.
Hannah stared at the empty space where her sister had stood, her heart breaking apart piece by piece.
For a long time, she didn’t move.
Then, finally, she closed her eyes, inhaled shakily, and whispered the one word she never thought she’d say.
“…Okay.”
Years Later…
Sunlight streamed through the windows of a small cottage nestled near the edge of a quiet village. Birds chirped in the trees, their songs mingling with the laughter of children playing outside.
Inside, Hannah sat at a wooden table, sipping tea as she watched the world move on. A book lay open beside her, its pages well-worn, filled with stories of adventure and magic—stories that felt like echoes of another life.
A soft breeze rustled the curtains, and for a brief moment, she swore she could hear Rannah’s voice.
Live.
She smiled faintly, pressing a hand to the locket around her neck—the only thing she had left of her sister.
And so, she did.