The morning light in the Command Tier was cold and clinical, but the tension in the hallway was rising. Sofia stood by the heavy service lift, her hands tucked deep into the sleeves of her charcoal silk. She was pale, her "Influence" shimmering with a desperate, frantic pulse.
A young guard, his helmet visor up, looked at her with wide, star-struck eyes. He was the one who had felt the golden warmth of her soul in the Pit.
"Please," Sofia whispered, pressing a small, crumpled slip of paper into his hand. "Just give it to the recruit in the 3rd Barracks. Jess. Tell her I miss her... tell her not to be lonely. Please."
The guard hesitated, his fingers closing over the note. "Miss, if the Commander finds out—"
"Finds out what?"
The voice was a blade of ice. Talisa stepped from the shadows of the arched doorway, her black tactical boots silent on the stone. She didn't look at the guard; her eyes were locked on the small piece of paper.
The Shredded HopeTalisa walked forward, her presence so suffocating that the guard dropped to one knee instantly. She reached out and plucked the note from his trembling fingers.
She read it in silence. Her scarred cheek twitched as she absorbed the words of love Sofia had intended for her sister. A dark, jagged jealousy flared in her chest—a need for total erasure of anyone else in Sofia's heart.
With a slow, deliberate motion, Talisa tore the paper. Rip. Rip. Rip. The white fragments fluttered to the floor like dead butterflies.
"You don't communicate with the ranks, Sofia," Talisa said, her voice a low, terrifying hum. "And you certainly don't tell a common soldier that you miss her when I am standing right here."
Talisa grabbed Sofia's wrist, her grip like an iron shackle, and dragged the girl toward the private dining hall. Sofia stumbled behind her, her sapphire eyes filling with tears as she looked back at the remains of her letter.
The Hunger StrikeThey reached the dining room—a vaulted chamber set with a table of dark mahogany. A spread of roasted meats, fresh bread, and thick, sweetened porridge sat beneath the warm lanterns. Talisa shoved Sofia into a chair and sat across from her.
"The note said you won't eat," Talisa hissed, leaning over the table. "It said you're going on a hunger strike until you see Jess being fed with your own eyes. You think you can blackmail me, Sofia? In my own mountain?"
"I won't," Sofia whispered, her voice trembling but firm. "I won't eat a single bite while she's down there in the dark. You said she was safe, but I don't believe you anymore."
Talisa's eyes turned black with rage. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the small, black device. "I told you, Sofia. I am the one who provides. I am the one who decides when you are full."
The Porcelain PuppetClick.
The silver collar pulsed with a sharp, blue light. Sofia's body suddenly locked. Her spine straightened, her head snapped back, and her limbs became as rigid as marble. She was trapped in a state of absolute paralysis, her eyes wide and terrified, staring at the ceiling.
"If you won't eat like a girl, you'll eat like a doll," Talisa muttered.
She stood up, picking up a bowl of the heavy, honey-thickened porridge. With a practiced, brutal efficiency, she forced Sofia's jaw open. Because Sofia was frozen, she couldn't swallow naturally, and she couldn't pull away.
For five agonizing minutes, the device kept Sofia in a state of frozen helplessness. Talisa worked with a frantic, possessed energy, forcing spoonful after spoonful down the girl's throat. She didn't stop until the bowl was empty, then moved to the next, her movements a blur of dark, controlling "care."
The AftermathFinally, Talisa pressed the button again.
The paralysis vanished. Sofia collapsed forward, her breath coming in ragged, wet gasps. The sheer volume of the forced food, combined with the trauma of being unable to move for five long minutes, was too much for her delicate frame.
She leaned over the side of the chair and puked, the sweetened porridge hitting the rugs in a messy heap. She sobbed, her hands clutching her stomach. As she curled into a ball on the floor, the silk of her tunic stretched tight across her midsection. Her belly was visibly bumpy, distended and hard from the massive amount of food Talisa had forced into her small body. It was a physical mark of the Commander's violent obsession.
Talisa stood over her, looking down at the shivering, sick girl. She didn't offer a hand. She simply watched the way Sofia's body struggled to process the intrusion.
"Next time," Talisa whispered, her voice devoid of mercy, "you'll pick up the fork yourself. Clean her up, Anna!"
Talisa turned and walked out, the sound of her boots echoing like a hammer, leaving Sofia broken and sick on the floor.