The nightmares ended once more, and Mina awoke, though she wished only to continue sleeping forever.

"Mina. Come. It—"

"No!" Mina whimpered. "No, I can't!" She curled her legs up and rolled into the corner of the chair, facing away from the portal.

There was a pause, and the awful, detestable girl who would never succeed at anything hoped that she'd been left alone.

She'd always been alone.

She'd grown up a princess imprisoned within a castle of depravity, and she'd had none she could call friends.

Her sisters had, at one time, seemed that they might be friendly, but no.

No, they were not.

They traded jabs and insults freely, and it always seemed to her that the ones directed at her were just a little more cutting, a little more hurtful.

Still, she persisted in her attempts. Perhaps if she managed something truly impressive, they would acknowledge her.

They hadn't.

No, they'd only grown more hurtful.

Emma was always the leader among them. She was always the most clever. It'd been her schemes that—

"You are wounded."

Mina shuddered as the memory of the horrifying end to her attempt at racing returned to her. Her terror as the front panel over the engine was blown off by the force of the explosion. The feeling of the heat as the magical flames grew nearer, raking over her flesh like hot knives of pain and fear. The dread as she cowered behind her hands, knowing—

"I will heal your—"

"No," Mina hissed, finally rolling back to glare at the Demon Queen. "Leave me be!"

Ir'alith's massive, draconic eye gazed through the portal, and a gust of freezing wind blew in, setting the vile, useless girl to shivering.

"You've nothing to gain from my assistance," Mina said bluntly. "I've made no contribution, no discovery which could yield any benefit. Even Valgud with his brain pickled in ale is of more use than a despicable failure like me."

Ir'alith blinked. "You are lost," she said soon after.

Mina shivered from the cold. "I've never been found. Now go!" she said, gesturing for her to depart. "Leave me be! Or does the Demon Queen require the help of a stupid human to solve her problems?"

Another short while passed, and a maddeningly cold burst of air howled through the portal.

"I will return—"

"Don't!" Mina whined. "I'm of no use to you. I'm of no use to anyone, not even myself." She pressed her hands to her face, feeling the sting of imminent tears begin once more.

She'd never succeeded at anything of worth.

She never would.

There was another moment of silence, and the wind and cold abated.

The worthless girl felt something warm and angular come to rest on her leg as she quietly sobbed. Then a brief, soothing sensation spread across her arms and face.

"You are not alone, Mina, and no creature should suffer in pain," said Ir'alith. "Crush this if you would seek my aid or seek to aid me. I thank you for what assistance you provided. May you find happiness, even if never we meet again."

"I won't," Mina whispered. She hiccuped. I'll never be happy ever again. No matter what I attempt, it always ends in ruin. I'd thought to find joy in something as innocuous as driving my steamcar, and even in that pursuit Emma's found some means to torment me.

The soft purple light vanished, leaving her again in darkness. It was fitting for a girl such as her.

Emma.

She'd been the one Mina had looked up to when she'd been younger. Always so brilliant, so clever, so beautiful.

The youngest sister would have done nearly anything to gain her eldest sister's approval, if only for a single moment. No matter how she tried, however, she always failed.

Stolen story; please report.

She failed in fencing to the extent that she began hiding herself away in various little-used corners within the castle when the times for it circled around each week, unable to bear the embarrassment of even lifting a foil which had never achieved a victory.

She failed in games of skill, such as chess, having never managed to gain even a slight advantage in their matches.

She failed in basic conversing simply by being too annoying, as the older girl described it on so many occasions. She'd never had an interest in court gossips and intrigues, and it'd been all the other girl spoke about until she'd grown too old to have time to speak with her.

Most of all, she failed in seeing through Emma's too-obvious schemes. Each time the three-years-older girl came to her with a brilliant solution to some problem of hers which had sprung up unexpectedly, she was taken in by her charm and smooth words without considering it further.

When she'd returned to her chambers on a certain evening to find all her clothes and dresses missing, she'd leapt at Emma's offering of a dress to wear to that night's summer solstice dance. Emma's dresses were always the most beautiful and detailed! She'd be delighted to accept such a gift!

But no, it wasn't a gift. It never was. She'd accepted her sister's help in dressing herself, thrilled by the attention she was finally receiving, and hadn't even examined her appearance in a mirror before allowing herself to be ushered directly to the ballroom. Upon entering, Emma had torn the upper part of the dress away, the fabric having clearly been designed with that intent in mind, and she'd spent the subsequent hours with her breasts held out like an offering for anyone who fancied a look or a fondle.

Each time she attempted to slip away, her mother would somehow take notice and shepherd her back with a disapproving look. Each time she attempted to return to her seat, another noble would drag her back for another dance, accompanied by inappropriate amounts of ogling or groping—but generally both.

She wasn't truly a princess, after all. She wasn't in line to the throne. Minor liberties taken with her person would receive no punishment so long as they didn't become major liberties.

She'd acquired her taste in high-necked blouses and dresses from that very night.

So it went. Each time Mina thought her sister had finally given up her tormenting ways, she'd find herself bearing the brunt of some new scheme.

Emma was simply too clever about it.

Mina began to dread their encounters. She would maintain her watchfulness, certain that this would be the time she finally recognized a plot before it ensnared her, but even her very caution was turned against her. On an occasion when she'd seen her sister prowling around the castle with a dog, clearly in search of her, she'd stolen away to the library and remained there the rest of the day.

She'd thought herself so clever at evading the attempt to terrify her!

But no, it'd simply been a ruse. In her state of diminished caution, she took her bath as she always did, considering that she must have the maids replace her lightstones, which were obviously fading from reaching the limits of their capacity, and…

She'd absently settled into a tub of warm blood.

She wrapped her arms around herself and shuddered as she recalled vividly the exact moment she'd realized what the oddly thick liquid was, its distinctive color concealed by the lack of light and her own distraction.

Emma was always far more clever. That her sister was present in Onyxfell had completely slipped her mind when she'd found herself so close to tracks where she might attempt to race her prized steamcar earlier that day.

Now that she'd been so directly reminded, the feigned concern in her sister's voice alone causing her to fear what manner of attack she'd been about to suffer, she knew her hopes were dashed permanently.

She would never become the Queen of Racing.

She would never become anything of worth.

Their mother's watchful gaze had restrained Emma when they'd both resided in the castle, but now that she was here and so far away…

Carl would attempt to help. Mina was confident in that, and it caused her to feel a stabbing pain in her chest.

Carl was a good man—a strong one too.

He was not especially clever or cunning, however.

If he thought to oppose Emma here, in the city she'd lived within for years—known as the strongest city in the world for the very gladiators she would by now hold sway over—he would never succeed.

Emma was far too resourceful.

The very manner in which she'd somehow gotten the wild-eyed Stadalite man to wed her within days of their meeting was proof of that, and now that she'd returned and entrenched herself, she must have a truly fearsome capability for whatever she thought to achieve.

Mina wouldn't even attempt to flee. She knew her sister must be watching her already, and such an attempt would only worsen whatever was being schemed. Her mind could barely form coherent thoughts as her fear of her sister consumed her.

She'd attempt to force Carl to flee, at the least. She should do that much. He was undeserving of being captured or used. She cared too much for him to permit such a thing.

She wished he would remain, however. She cared too much for him to imagine what her life could be like without him anymore.

Regardless of her wishes, however, they would be separated.

Emma would see to it.

The only thing a failure like Mina could do was await her sister's scheme to come to fruition.

Perhaps she'd seek to speed it along. If she surrendered herself and spared her sister some small amount of effort, Carl might be left unharmed.

Yes, that seemed like the least she could do for him after failing to provide even the slightest help in rescuing his wife.

She'd see to it tomorrow night, however.

She'd enjoy this one final night of relative peace.

Mina sniffled. Just this one night. She wiped at her eyes with her sleeve, clutching at her scarf with her other hand. Then she tossed the piece of cloth of which she was undeserving over the side of her chair. She pulled the hair tie off and discarded it as well. Lastly, she tossed the small cube she'd just received behind herself, uncaring of where it would land.

On that night in Onyxfell, Mina realized that she'd never been free of her fears.

She'd merely forgotten them for a short while, as though falling asleep.

Isemeine continued to sob quietly until sleep took her once more, but she felt no relief in her dreams.

She was Isemeine Charus, and her fears were her life.