"If your actions—lead to the death of someone they love, how are you any different from the Empress?"
The voice rang out, cold and clear like a blade cutting through silence. It was Judith. She stood at the entrance, arms crossed over her chest, her posture rigid and unyielding. Shadows clung to her frame as if reluctant to let her go, but her gaze—sharp, unwavering—pierced straight through Jacinta's resolve.
Jacinta didn't flinch. Slowly, she turned her head, her expression unreadable at first, then shifting into something softer, almost sorrowful. "Different?" she echoed, her voice quiet but heavy with emotion. "Compared to the Empress, I have someone I love too… someone who means more to me than power ever could."
Her voice trembled slightly—just enough for her siblings to catch it. Just enough to remind them that beneath her polished defiance and sharp tongue, Jacinta was still human. Still hurting.
The room fell into silence. No one dared speak.
