The Prophet Part III

"Look at you." Nemi's voice carries the same warmth it did years ago, when she'd tend to Shiro's scrapes and bruises. "Always trying to be so strong."

Shiro's throat tightens. Her talons dig into her palms, drawing blood that heals instantly. The pain helps her focus, keeps the memories at bay.

"Remember how you'd always hide behind these curtains during hide and seek?" Nemi pulls aside a tattered drape, its once-vibrant fabric now bleached by sun and time. "You were always impossible to find. The other kids would give up, but I kept searching. Hours sometimes, until Sister Marie called us for dinner."

Nemi runs her hand along a dusty shelf, pulling out a worn deck of cards. The faded box barely holds together, its corners soft and rounded from countless hands.

"Remember these?" She slides the cards out with practiced care. "You used to make up the wildest rules."

Shiro's eyes fix on the familiar patterns. Mother had given them the deck after finding it in a donation box.

"Three-card Prophet." Nemi settles cross-legged on the floor, patting the space across from her. "That was your favorite, wasn't it?"

Shiro hesitates, then slowly sinks to the ground. Her talons click against the wooden floorboards.

"You'd stack the deck." Shiro watches Nemi shuffle with fluid motions. "Every time."

"Me? Never." Nemi deals three cards face down between them. "You were just terrible at spotting patterns."

"I spotted them. Let you win anyway."

"Such a generous little sister." Nemi flips her first card. "Queen of Hearts. Your turn."

Shiro's scaled fingers hover over her cards. The familiar rhythm of the game pulls at something deep inside her.

"Eight of Clubs." She reveals her card. "You still telegraph your moves."

"Do I?" Nemi's eyes sparkle. "Or am I letting you win?"

They fall into the old pattern - flip, compare, collect. Dust motes dance around them in the afternoon light streaming through broken windows.

"Remember how we'd bet chores?" Nemi asks, claiming another trick. "You always ended up with dish duty."

"Because you cheated."

"Strategy, dear sister. There's a difference." Nemi deals another round.

The cards whisper across worn floorboards. For a moment, they could be children again, playing by candlelight while thunder rolls outside.

Shiro's fingers tremble as she lays down her next card. "I thought I lost you. The floods..." Her voice catches. "After the Catastrophe, they said no one survived in this sector."

"Takes more than a little water to take down your big sis." Nemi's laugh echoes through the ruins, bright and familiar. She collects the trick with practiced grace, her movements unchanged by the years between them. "Besides, someone had to keep this place standing."

Dust spirals in the sunbeams as Nemi gestures to the crumbling walls around them. "I've been here, waiting. Hoping you'd find your way back." Her amber eyes soften as she studies Shiro's face. "And here you are."

The cards lie forgotten between them as Shiro's hands clench in her lap. Her talons dig into her palms, but the pain doesn't ground her this time. The memories flood back - Nem bandaging her scraped knees, sneaking her extra portions at dinner, holding her through nightmares.

"You stayed here all this time?" Shiro's voice comes out barely above a whisper.

"Where else would I go?" Nemi reaches across the space between them, her fingers hovering near Shiro's scaled hands. "This was always home. For both of us."

Nemi shuffles the cards back into their worn box, setting them aside. "You've been running for so long, Shiro." Her voice carries the same gentle tone she used when treating Shiro's childhood wounds. "But you don't have to anymore."

"The people here need us - need you. You've seen what Bile does."

"You're the Prophet they whisper about."

"Someone had to help them." Nemi spreads her hands, a familiar gesture from their shared past. "My powers can ease their suffering, but I can't keep up alone. More arrive every day, desperate for treatment."

"We could do so much good here, together. Bonaparte could be home," Nemi says softly. "No more running. No more hiding who you are."

The words sink into Shiro like anchor chains, holding her in place. The weight of years spent alone, always moving, always watching her back, settles heavy on her shoulders.

"We could rebuild Haven," Nemi gestures to the ruins around them. "Make it a sanctuary for those who need healing. Just like Mother would have wanted."

Shiro's resistance crumbles at the mention of Mother. Her eyes meet Nemi's - warm amber unchanged by time - and find the same unwavering acceptance that had anchored her childhood.

"Maybe..." Shiro's voice comes out rough. "Maybe-"

Boots scrape against concrete in the distance. Shiro's head snaps toward the sound.

The pieces click into place. The guards releasing her without resistance. Leading her directly to the orphanage. To Nemi.

"You're working with them." Shiro's voice carries a dangerous edge as she rises from the floor, cards scattering beneath her feet.

Nemi's warm expression doesn't waver. "What are you talking about?"

"The guards. CryoCore. They wouldn't just let me go. Not after what happened at the docks."

"Shiro-"

Shiro backs away. "Did they send you to keep me here?"

The footsteps grow closer. Multiple teams converging from different directions, their movements too coordinated to be coincidence.

"You were always clever." Nemi stands. "But you're wrong about this."

"Then why are the guards here? Why did they bring me straight to you?"

"The guards listen to me because I help their families," Nemi says, her amber eyes pleading. "So many of them have loved ones addicted to Bile. That's all this is."

The sound of boots grows louder. Metal clicks against concrete as weapons are readied.

"Then why are they surrounding us?"

Nemi's expression shifts as realization dawns. "The bounty. Five million credits would tempt anyone, even those who owe me." She moves closer to Shiro, voice dropping. "I swear I didn't know. I would never betray you like that."

"You expect me to believe-"

"Look at me, Shiro." Nemi grips her scaled hands, ignoring the sharp sting of talons against her skin. "Have I ever lied to you? Even once?"

Shiro tenses, trying to pull away, but Nemi holds firm.

"You're still my little sister." She squeezes Shiro's hands gently. "Nothing changes that- not time, not distance, not even these."

Uncertainty flickers in Shiro’s eyes.

Nemi glances over her shoulder, scanning the ruins. "We have to move. I know somewhere safe- somewhere they won't think to look."

Blood wells where Shiro’s claws press, but Nemi doesn’t let go. Her grip is steady, her voice firm. "Trust me, just this once."

The words hit Shiro like a physical blow, breaking through her hesitation.

Nemi pulls again, more urgent this time. "Please."

Shiro's mind races through possibilities. She could scale the walls, slip past the guards unseen. She's escaped worse situations alone.

But Nemi's eyes hold the same warmth they did years ago, when she'd tend Shiro's wounds and chase away nightmares. Her big sister, who never broke a promise, who always put others first.

"Okay." Shiro's voice comes out rough. The word feels foreign on her tongue, like a language half-forgotten.

Nemi's face breaks into a smile that erases years of separation. She leads Shiro through the gap, navigating fallen beams and twisted metal with practiced ease.

As they slip deeper into the shadows, the weight of that trust sits heavy in Shiro’s chest, equal parts terrifying and familiar.

But Nemi's fingers remain intertwined with hers, steady and sure, just like when they were children. And for the first time in years, Shiro allows herself to follow.