Violet's words didn't just tell the story—they pulled them into it. The garden seemed to dissolve around them as her voice carried the weight of memory, each sentence dragging her back into that night. Her grip tightened on Starfania's sleeve as if letting go might send her spiraling. The heavy stillness of the room returned to her mind—the way she had leaned against her bedroom door, forehead pressed to the cool wood, praying it would somehow keep the chaos out.
" The TV was on," Violet continued, her voice distant, hollow. " Too loud. Like she wanted everyone to hear her laughing…but not me crying."
Starfania felt Violet tremble in her arms. Aeron's breath caught sharply. His jaw tightened, teeth grinding as his hands curled into fists so tight his knuckles blanched. His little sister. Alone in that house.
Drogo sensed the shift immediately. With a low, rumbling sound—not playful, not curious—he moved closer to Violet and carefully lowered himself beside her. His massive head dipped, resting near her knee, his warmth steady and grounding. Atlas mirrored him on the other side, eyes glowing faintly, ancient and watchful. Violet swallowed.
" I sat on my bed," she whispered. " Holding my pillow like it was the only thing keeping me together. I kept thinking…if I stayed quiet, maybe she'd go away."
Her voice cracked. " But she didn't."
The door slamming open echoed in her memory—and Aeron flinched as if he'd heard it himself.
" She was drunk," Violet said, tears spilling freely now. " She could barely stand, but her eyes…"
Violet shuddered. " They weren't empty. They were full. Of something ugly."
Starfania felt her chest ache, her arm tightening instinctively around Violet.
" She started yelling," Violet went on. " Calling me names. Saying I was weak. That I reminded her too much of my mother."
Aeron took a step forward, rage burning in his eyes. His voice came out rough. " She said what?"
Violet winced but nodded. " Then she grabbed me."
Her fingers brushed the dark mark on her arm. " That's when it happened," she whispered. " It wasn't just her hand. It felt like…something else. Like her anger burned into me. Like it wanted to stay."
Aeron's control shattered.
" She touched you?" His voice shook violently. " I swear, if I—"
Starfania shot him a gentle but firm look—not a reprimanded, but a reminder. She needed safety, not fury. Aeron stopped himself, breath ragged, eyes shining. He knelt in front of Violet instead, lowering himself so he wasn't towering over her.
" I'm so sorry," he said hoarsely. " I should've protected you."
Violet shook her head weakly. " I didn't tell you because I didn't want to be a burden. I thought…if I was strong enough, it wouldn't hurt anymore."
" That doesn't make you strong," Aeron said immediately. " That makes you alone. And you should never have been."
Drogo pressed closer, his wings shielding her back. Atlas let out a low, resonant hum—something ancient and protective, vibrating through the air like a vow. Violet's breathing began to hitch as the memory closed in on her again.
" She kept walking toward me," she whispered. " Step by step. Like she knew I couldn't run."
Her eyes darted, unfocused, reliving it. " I couldn't breathe. My legs wouldn't move. I thought—this is it. I'm trapped."
Starfania felt it then—Violet slipping. She tightened her hold, forehead resting gently against Violet's temple.
" You're here," Starfania whispered firmly. " You're safe. Look at me."
Violet's gaze wavered, then locked onto Starfania's eyes.
" Focus on me," Starfania said again, voice steady as stone. " You're not there anymore. She can't touch you here."
Violet sucked in a shaky breath. Another. Slowly, the panic loosened its grip. Aeron reached out carefully, placing his hand over Violet's.
" I'm here," he whispered. " I always will be."
Violet finally broke—sobbing openly now, the walls she'd built crumbling at last. She leaned into Starfania's embrace, Drogo's warmth at her back, Atlas's presence solid and unwavering. For the first time since that night—she wasn't alone. And in that forgotten garden, beneath tangled vines and silent stone, something shifted—not just pain being spoken, but protection being claimed.