Time/Date: TC1853.01.20 – Early Morning

Location: Metropolitan Police Station, 4th Ring, Interview Room Three

"...How I was five years old when I first realized Caelia could manipulate tears to make adults come running."

Selene’s voice had taken on a distant quality, like she was watching these memories from very far away. Her pale blue eyes weren’t focused on Raven anymore—they were seeing something else. Someone else. A little girl who’d spent her entire childhood being conditioned.

"She was weak. Sickly. For a while, the doctors didn’t think she’d survive past her first year. I don’t remember a time when I wasn’t being told to be gentle with her, careful around her, responsible for her." Her hands traced patterns on the metal table. "When I was old enough to walk, I was old enough to fetch things for Caelia. Toys. Water. Books. Mother would sit me down every morning and tell me: ’You’re the big sister. It’s your duty to protect her. To love her. To make sure she’s happy.’"

Raven listened, her enhanced perception catching every micro-expression, every tell that separated truth from fabrication. Everything Selene said rang authentic—the kind of painful, humiliating detail people rarely invented.

"I spent hours reading to her when she was bedridden," Selene continued. "Made up games we could play that didn’t require her to move much. Drew pictures for her. Anything to see her smile, because when Caelia smiled, Mother smiled. When Caelia was happy, everyone was happy."

Her voice cracked slightly.

"When she finally got strong enough to leave the bed, I helped her walk. Held her hand. Protected her from the other children who might bump into her accidentally. I thought..." She stopped, swallowed. "I thought I was being a good sister. Thought I was doing what family meant."

"But Caelia would cry," Raven prompted gently.

"All the time. If I played with other children instead of entertaining her—tears. If I wore something pretty that Mother bought me—hysterical sobbing about how I was making her feel ugly." Selene’s hands clenched. "Once, when we were seven, she threw such a fit about my hair being prettier than hers that I... I cut it off. Took scissors and just hacked it short, trying to make myself less. Trying to make her happy."

"And your parents?"

"Beat me for destroying my hair." The bitter laugh escaped before Selene could stop it. "Told me I was ungrateful. That I should appreciate the beauty I’d been given instead of throwing it away. But Caelia stopped crying, so I thought..." She trailed off. "I always thought if I could just figure out how to make her happy, everyone would be happy."

Raven made mental notes: Pattern established early. Caelia trains Selene through tears and parental reinforcement. Classic conditioning.

"It got worse when we were old enough for school," Selene said. "Caelia refused to go. Said she was too weak, too shy, too scared of the other children. Mother kept me home with her, even though I begged to go to school. Private tutors for both of us, but really..." She laughed that broken sound again. "Really, it was just keeping me available. Caelia’s personal servant."

"And if you complained?"

"Why would I complain? Everyone kept telling me how lucky I was to have such a close relationship with my sister. How beautiful it was that I was so devoted to her care. How lucky I was to be privately tutored." Her voice had gone flat now, mechanical. "When we were ten, Mother bought us matching dresses. Identical. Caelia screamed for hours about how she didn’t want to look like me, how it made her feel like she wasn’t her own person. So I told Mother I hated the dresses. That I didn’t want to dress like Caelia. I was punished for being selfish while Caelia got to pick out whatever she wanted."

Selene’s pale blue eyes fixed on Raven with sudden intensity. "Do you understand what that does to a child? When every desire is wrong, every boundary is selfishness, every moment not devoted to your sister’s happiness is a betrayal?"

"Yes," Raven said quietly. And she did. She’d seen it across lifetimes—the systematic destruction of someone’s sense of self.

"When I was eleven, Mother’s favorite vase broke," Selene continued. "Caelia had knocked it over while throwing one of her tantrums. I watched it happen. But when Mother came running, Caelia was already crying, saying she’d seen me near it earlier, that maybe I’d bumped it. Mother didn’t even ask. Just assumed I was clumsy, careless, destructive. I was locked in my room for three days."

"You didn’t tell the truth?"

"I tried. But Caelia cried harder, and Mother said I was lying to protect myself. That I was making my poor, sick sister even more upset with my deception." Selene’s voice had gone hollow again. "After that, I stopped trying. It was easier to just... accept blame. Accept punishment. Accept that Caelia’s version of events was always right."

***

In the Observation Room

"Classic abuse pattern," Wu murmured, making notes. "Systematic conditioning through childhood. The victim learns that resistance makes things worse."

Morrison nodded grimly. "And Caelia was doing this consciously. Look at the strategy—always crying at the right moment, always positioning Selene to take the blame. That’s not accidental."

"She was eight years old," Veyne said, her voice carrying something between horror and professional detachment. "Building patterns of manipulation that young."

They turned back to the window as Selene continued her story.

***

Interview Room Three

"Then the Lin family noticed Caelia," Selene said. Her hands had started that fidgeting again—old nervous habit emerging through the shock. "She was twelve. I was twelve. The main family sent representatives to test us—standard procedure for branch families showing promise. They were interested in Caelia’s healing abilities."

"Not yours?"

A bitter smile. "Oh, they tested me too. Basic competency. Said I was... adequate. Nothing special. Pretty enough to make a good match someday, but without Caelia’s gift for medicine." She laughed. "They decided to foster Caelia. Give her proper training in the main family compound. And Caelia insisted I come with her."

Raven’s analytical mind sharpened. "Insisted."

"Made it sound like generosity. Like she was worried about leaving me behind, about me being lonely without her. Cried to the Lin patriarch about how she couldn’t bear to be separated from her devoted sister. No one asked me if I wanted to go. If they had, I would have refused. I didn’t want to leave my parents or my brother." Selene’s voice dripped venom now. "But really, she just wanted to keep me under her control. Keep me available. I realize that now."

"What happened at the Lin compound?"

"Rules. So many rules." Selene’s voice grew softer, remembering. "How to sit, how to speak, how to walk, how to bow to different ranks of family members. Everyone looked down on me—the pretty but stupid twin sister of the gifted Caelia. They’d say it right to my face. ’It’s good you’re beautiful, dear. You just don’t have the intellect for anything else.’ Or ’You can’t do this, you can’t do that. You’re stupid.’"

Her hands clenched on the table.

"But there was one thing I loved," Selene said, and for the first time, genuine warmth entered her voice. "Potion class. Watching ingredients transform into something greater than their parts. The precision of it. The way everything had to be exactly right or it would fail completely."

She looked up, and there was something almost childlike in her expression. "I would spend hours in my room, mixing things. Trying different combinations. Following recipes. It made me happy even though I was terrible at it."

"Terrible?" Raven asked carefully.

"That’s what everyone told me. The teachers said I had no talent, that I should stop wasting herbs and their time. That I was embarrassing myself." Selene’s voice had gone flat again. "But Caelia would tell me not to worry about what the teachers said. She said I could play around making potions anytime, that she’d cover for me. That even though I was useless at it, at least I was happy."

Raven’s enhanced perception caught something in Selene’s voice—the way she repeated these phrases. "Play around." "Useless." "At least I was happy." The language of systematic diminishment.

"Caelia would give me recipes," Selene continued. "Tell me to go practice, to have fun with it. When I brought her the potions I’d made, she’d shake her head, but say, ’Well, at least you’re having fun.’ I saw her throw them away a couple of times, so I figured they were that bad."

"She threw them away," Raven repeated slowly. "You actually saw her dispose of them?"

"A few times, yes. Down the waste chute in the dormitory." Selene shrugged. "She said she had to get rid of them. That if the family found out I was wasting precious herbs making useless potions, we’d both get in trouble."

Raven filed that away: Selene saw disposal a few times. Assumed all potions were disposed of. Never questioned where they really went.

"Then Caelia was accepted to Empire First Academy at fourteen," Selene said. "The Lin patriarch insisted I go with her. To look after Caelia. To help her." Her voice had gone bitter again. "I wasn’t her sister. I was her maid."

"What did you study?"

"Caelia enrolled me in classes. Flower arrangement. Basic etiquette I already knew. Elementary literature I’d read years before." Selene laughed that broken sound. "She said at least I couldn’t fail these classes and embarrass her. That, even though I was taking junk courses, just having attended Empire First Academy was something many people would envy. That, with my lack of talent, I’d never have been allowed through the front door without her."

The systematic psychological abuse was staggering. And Selene still spoke about it as if it had been reasonable. As if she’d deserved it.

"Did Caelia still let you make potions?" Raven prompted.

"Yes." Selene’s voice softened slightly. "She’d still bring me herbs and recipes. Said even though I was useless at alchemy, it made me happy, so she’d let me play with it. But she always took the potions away after—said she had to dispose of them properly, that if anyone found out I was wasting materials, we’d both be in serious trouble."

"Every potion you made?"

"Every single one." Selene nodded. "She was protecting me, I thought. Making sure I didn’t get caught wasting expensive ingredients on worthless mixtures."

Raven’s mind was already working through the implications, but she filed them away for later. Let Selene tell her story first.

"Then I met Darian," Selene said, and something softened in her ruined voice. "He was twenty-one. A Legion Commander—the youngest ever to hold that rank. I was sixteen, in my second year at university. We met in the library. He bumped into me, helped pick up my books, and we just... talked. For hours. About history, philosophy, and military strategy."

A ghost of a smile crossed her face.

"He never once made me feel stupid. For three years, we met whenever he was in the capital. He’d write to me when he was at the front. Send me books he thought I’d enjoy. Ask my opinion on things." Her voice grew softer. "He made me feel beautiful not just on the outside, but here." She touched her chest. "Made me feel like my thoughts mattered. Like I mattered."

"You kept it secret," Raven said. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝔀𝓮𝒃𝙣𝓸𝒗𝒆𝒍.𝙘𝒐𝒎

"At first, yes. I wanted something that was mine. Something Caelia couldn’t touch or taint. But eventually..." Selene’s expression darkened. "Eventually, I told her. Even introduced them. I thought surely my relationship was safe—Darian had chosen me, spent three years with me, talked about our future together. What could Caelia possibly do?"

"What did she do?"

Selene’s hands started that nervous fidgeting again. "At first, nothing obvious. She was supportive. Kind. Said she was happy for me. But after about a year, I noticed Darian wasn’t as close to me as he used to be. He stopped being affectionate. Wouldn’t call me. Even when he had time off, he was too busy to see me."

"Did you ask Caelia about it?"

"Yes." Selene’s voice was barely a whisper now. "She told me to stop worrying. That Darian was under pressure in the military. That I should support him, stop harassing him, and show him I would make a good military wife. That a soldier needed to know his wife could handle things at home without him."

Her pale blue eyes filled with tears.

"She said I should show Darian I was independent. That I could stand strong on my own. That he was worried I was always by myself, that I should make friends, have interests, and go out more. So I did. I tried to be what she said he wanted."

"And?"

"For a while, everything was okay. Not great. Darian was still distant, but at least Caelia had stopped demanding all my attention. She was going out on her own more. I thought maybe things would get better." Selene swallowed hard. "Then it was time for the bloodrite ceremony."

She stopped, her breathing quickening.

"Tell me about your bloodrite," Raven said gently.

"Caelia insisted we go home. To our parents’ house. First time in fourteen years we’d returned together." Selene’s voice had gone distant again. "She was affectionate that night. Unusually so. Poured drinks for everyone—Mother, Father, and my brother. We all got rather drunk."

"What happened after?"

"We stumbled to our old room. The one we’d shared as children. It hadn’t been changed—still had our old beds, our old things." Selene closed her eyes. "I fell asleep almost immediately. But later, I woke up. Thirsty. Sick from the wine. Caelia was there with soup. Said she’d heard me getting sick, that I’d had too much to drink, that I should have something to settle my stomach."

"And you drank it?"

"Yes. I was grateful. Touched that she was being kind for once." Selene’s voice cracked. "I fell back asleep. Woke up the next morning for the ceremony."

"Describe the bloodrite," Raven said.

Selene’s breathing had become shallow. "The Hall of Eternal Judgment. The altar. I put my hands on the Bloodline Resonance Stone and cut my palm. Watched my blood drop onto the ancient surface."

She stopped, her whole body trembling now.

"At first, it felt right. I could feel something in my blood waking up. Coming alive. It was warm, powerful, like something inside me was finally being recognized." Tears started streaming down her face. "Then it changed. Agony. Like my blood was boiling. Burning. I heard it screaming—my own blood was screaming—and then something just... burst. Exploded inside me."

Her hands went to her chest as if she could still feel it.

"I collapsed. Fainted. When I woke up, there was a stranger in the mirror. My silver hair had turned black. My violet eyes..." She touched her face. "My violet eyes had burned pale blue. Everything that marked me as Lin—just gone."

"What did your family say?"

"My father looked at me with disgust. Called me a disappointment. Said a blood regression was rare, but a complete regression? That was almost unheard of. Even people who fail only drop a level or two, but me?" Her voice cracked. "All Lin signets disappeared. My mother was crying, saying at least Caelia’s bloodrite went well, else the family would have no face to live with. My brother looked at me with disgust and told me never to say I was his sister."

The cruelty was staggering.

"My father informed me that the Lin family had rescinded my fostering. That they’d removed my name from even the branch line. I wasn’t their daughter anymore." Selene’s voice had gone hollow. "All I could think about was talking to Darian. Everyone else had turned against me, but I still had him."

"But you didn’t," Raven said quietly.

"He walked in with Caelia," Selene whispered. "Put his arm around her. Turned to my parents and introduced himself as Caelia’s boyfriend. Said they’d been dating for over a year, that he was serious about her, that he wanted to marry her."

The betrayal was almost incomprehensible.

"I was in shock. I asked what was happening. Asked about our five years together, our plans for the future." Selene’s hands clenched into fists. "He looked at me like I was insane. Said he’d never dated me. That he’d always only thought of me as a sister—simple courtesy I’d apparently misunderstood as romantic interest. Called me delusional."

"And your father?"

"Slapped me. Hard enough, I fell. Called me shameless. A disgrace. Accused me of lying about a relationship with a respected Legion Commander to cover for my failed bloodrite." Selene’s voice was barely audible now. "Everyone believed him. Why wouldn’t they? Respected military hero versus failed bloodrite candidate with no credibility."

Raven made mental notes: Complete systematic destruction. Bloodrite sabotage, then an immediate follow-up to eliminate all support systems.

"What happened after?" she asked.

"I don’t remember leaving. I just remember finding myself in the Sixth Ring hours later. No family. No friends. No money. No prospects." Selene’s voice was mechanical now, reciting facts without emotion. "I found cheap lodging. Started looking for work. But I had no qualifications—being a graduate of Empire First Academy meant nothing when I’d only taken useless courses. I could only get manual labor. Washing dishes. Being a waitress. For a while, things were fine, while I wasn’t making a fortune, I was surviving, saving up to move to a better place, but..."

"It got worse," Raven guessed.

"After a few months, thugs started appearing. Groups of men who’d corner me in alleys. They tried to grab me. Several times I was almost..." She stopped, swallowed. "Almost raped. But each time, someone would intervene. Always at the last possible moment. Always just barely in time."

Raven’s eyes narrowed. "Always the last moment? Never earlier?"

"Yes." Selene looked up, confusion in her pale blue eyes. "Always watching. Always waiting until the very last second. I thought I was lucky at first, but then it kept happening. Same pattern every time. I became terrified to leave my room."

"How long did this continue?"

"Months. I was taking in washing and mending just to survive. Barely eating. Terrified every moment that they’d finally succeed." Selene’s voice dropped. "Then Caelia found me."

"Found you."

"She was so kind. So concerned. Said she’d been searching for me, that she was worried about her sister. That Darian had agreed to let me stay at the Long estate, that she wanted to take care of me." Selene laughed bitterly. "I was so grateful. So relieved. I never questioned why she’d searched for me. Why she’d offer help after everything that happened."

Raven could see the pattern clearly, but said nothing yet.

"For years, I lived at the Long estate," Selene continued. "Watched Darian and Caelia together. Watched them being loving. Watched her give birth to his children—Terryn first, then the twins Kaivon and Kelen. Saw everything I’d lost. Every single day."

"But Caelia let you make potions," Raven said.

"Yes." For the first time, Selene’s expression softened slightly. "She still brought me herbs and recipes. Said even though I was useless at alchemy, it made me happy, so she’d indulge my hobby. That was kind of her, I thought. She’d dispose of them afterward—said she had to, that if anyone found out I was wasting materials, there’d be trouble."

"Every potion?"

"Every single one." Selene nodded. "For years. It was the only thing that kept me sane during that time. The only thing that was mine."

Raven sat back slightly, processing everything. The manipulation was stunning in its scope and patience. Forty-nine years of systematic psychological abuse, all centered around maintaining control and destroying Selene’s sense of self-worth.

"When did you start planning revenge?" Raven asked.

"I don’t remember exactly when." Selene’s voice had gone distant again. "Years of resentment building. Watching them together. Knowing I’d lost everything. There was this voice sometimes—I’m not sure if it was my own thoughts or something else—telling me I deserved better. That I should take something back."

She looked up with hollow eyes.

"Then one day, I found a recipe in the Long family library. An ancient book, just lying there in the general stacks. Not the restricted section—anyone could access it. And tucked in the middle pages was a recipe for Amber Kiss."

"An illegal recipe," Raven said carefully. "One of the most outlawed substances in the Empire. Just tucked randomly in a history book in the public section of the library."

"Yes." Selene nodded. "When I saw it, I knew. I knew what I had to do. I could make Caelia pay. Make Darian regret choosing her. I spent months perfecting the recipe, making sure I got it right."

"You made it yourself?"

"Of course." There was almost pride in Selene’s voice. "I followed the recipe exactly. Measured everything precisely. It took me weeks to get it perfect, but I did it. Made the Amber Kiss, made the other potions I’d need. Planned everything down to the last detail."

Raven made mental notes: Selene made a complex, illegal potion perfectly. Months of work. Precise measurements. But believes she’s worthless at alchemy.

"What was the plan?" Raven asked.

"The Long family was having a banquet. Celebrating something—I don’t even remember what. I decided to drug Darian and Caelia. Planned to have Caelia found with another man while I slept with Darian. I’d get pregnant with his child, and she’d be pregnant with some stranger’s baby." Selene’s voice had gone flat. "I thought it would destroy them. Destroy their perfect marriage."

"But something went wrong," Raven said.

"Everything went wrong." Selene laughed bitterly. "I woke up with Edmund Brenner instead of Darian. Caelia was still with Darian. My entire plan fell apart. I don’t even know how Edmund was invited to that banquet, but when we woke up the next morning, he realized the problem. He helped me escape. Hid me for months."

She looked at Raven with tears streaming down her face.

"And that’s the story. That’s how the stupid, worthless twin ended up married to a merchant and raising children that weren’t hers. That’s how I became a monster." Her voice cracked. "Pretty pathetic, isn’t it, Mara?"

Raven studied her for a long moment. Then spoke quietly.

"Raven. My name is Raven. Mara Brenner died the day she left the Brenner house."

Selene blinked, processing the statement.

"And I have some questions, Aunty," Raven continued. "Because your story has several inconsistencies that you’ve never noticed."

"What inconsistencies?" Selene’s voice carried confusion and wariness.

"We’ll get to those," Raven said. "But first, I need to know—are you certain everyone was drugged with Amber Kiss at that banquet? You prepared it yourself, followed the recipe exactly?"

"Yes, of course." Selene looked almost offended. "I made it perfectly. Measured every ingredient precisely—"

"Then explain this," Raven interrupted. "Neither Amara nor I show any signs of being Kissed-marked?"