Destiny's Blood

Chapter 1

Layela had already jammed the key in the lock when she noticed that Yoma, her twin sister, was no longer beside her. Resisting the urge to simply walk into their flower shop and lose the last threads of her dream in the various exotic scents, Layela took a deep, stale breath and turned around.

The night was still thick, the darkness not yet pierced by the weak sun of Collar, but she still easily spotted her sister under a flickering streetlight. Yoma’s features bore the same deep look of indecision that had been etched on her face since she had broken Layela free of the dark vision that had ensnared her dreams.

Darkness. A shiver ran down her spine and Layela wished she could remember more of her vision than just a vague impression of thick tar smothering her mind and clutching her stomach. She tucked her hands into her pockets to ward off the cool night air and walked back towards her sister, one quick step after another falling on the dark, familiar pavement.

She came to a stop beside Yoma, who was looking up towards the sign of their shop. Layela glanced sideways at her, ignored the clinging nausea left behind by the vision and lack of sleep, and forced a smile as she spoke.

It reads Sunrise Flowers, Yoma. Maybe glasses would be in order?”

"Maybe it should be Sunset FlowersYoma said, so softly that Layela strained to hear.

“What do you mean?”

Yoma lowered her gaze, focusing on the palm of her right hand, curling her fingers into a fist before flexing them again, her green eyes flickering with indecision.

“Yoma, are you all right?” Layela asked, wishing she could laugh her sister’s behaviour away and dispel the growing queasiness of her stomach. Too much was at stake now and everything should be going smoothly. Had she not planned for every eventuality? Wasn’t today supposed to be the start of something new and safe for both of them?

Her sister gazed, eyes unfocused, at the sign. Growing increasingly worried, Layela put her hand on her sister’s arm and whispered her childhood nickname, the same name Layela used to whisper when calling out to her sister after waking from a dark dream.

“Feathers?”

“Some things should end, and others never begin,” Yoma whispered, turning to face Layela, all hesitation vanishing as they locked eyes. A new edge lined her voice as she spoke. “These hands are meant for thieving, Layela, not for cutting flowers!”

“What are you talking about, Yoma?” Layela asked, fighting to keep her hands at her side; they twitched to slap sense into her sister. “You love flowers, too. You’re the one who always stole them for me!”

Yoma looked away and Layela’s stomach somersaulted. She could feel her sister slipping out of her grasp. She struggled silently for the right words to bring her back, but Yoma answered before she could find them.

“I love them because you do,” Yoma said, her voice picking up speed. “But they aren’t me. You’re finally taken care of. Maybe it’s time I take care of myself, now.”

“What in the forty bloody Solarian Stars do you mean I’m finally taken care of?” Layela’s voice echoed across the empty buildings. “We take care of each other — it’s always been that way. And this,” she said, wildly pointing at the shop, “is the result of that! What do you bloody think we’ve been working so hard to achieve?”

She paused, fighting hard to regain control of her seething anger. Yoma had pulled stupid stunts before and had always been too stubborn for her own good, but the twins had always supported each other and stuck together. That was how they had survived since they were orphans living on the streets. What game was Yoma playing at now?