Robin
I sit on the cold, stone floor of my prison, my back pressed against the damp wall. A single shaft of light filters through the narrow window above me, casting a small square of illumination in the otherwise dark room. The air is thick with the smell of mildew and dust.
The heavy door creaks open, and my sister, Scarlett, steps into the cell, her emerald eyes gleaming with malice while her red hair looks like flames around her head. She is accompanied by two servants dressed in black, each carrying a syringe filled with an ominous, swirling liquid.
“Good morning, dear brother,” she says, her voice dripping with fake sweetness. “I hope you’re feeling well today.”
I clench my fists, resisting the urge to lunge at her. “What do you want?”
“Is it so wrong for a sister to visit her b
