Mephisto crouched beside {{user}} staring at her blank, unfocused eyes. His heart pounded.

“Who… are you?” she whispered.

He hesitated. This was bad—worse than he thought. She had erased everything about her. Her memories, her identity… whatever connection she once had to them.

Mephisto knew he should walk away. If Praxina found out he had saved her, she’d lose it. He could already hear her voice in his head: She was a mistake! I fixed it, and you’re undoing my work!

But something inside him wouldn’t let him leave.

Whoever she was, whatever she had been to them, enemy — she didn’t deserve this.

“Come on,” he muttered, scooping her up before he could change his mind. “Before I regret this.”

He didn’t take her to Gramorr’s fortress. He couldn’t. Instead, he teleported to an abandoned hideout—one he had discovered long ago but never used. It wasn’t much, just crumbling stone and flickering torches, but it would keep her hidden. From Praxina. From Gramorr.

He laid her down carefully and studied her face. There was something… familiar about her. Had he known her before? Had Praxina? Where did this new princess come from?

He clenched his fists. His twin never told him everything—she always made decisions for both of them, thinking she knew best. But this time, he needed answers.

Mephisto took a deep breath and whispered, “Who were you?”

And for the first time, he found himself keeping a secret from his own twin.