"Never listen to Valya," her mother warned her in Lankiveil, her brow furrowed and her voice carrying a hardness that cut through Tula's bones. "She’ll pull you down with her before you even notice."

In another universe, Tula Veil would have been Tula Atreides. She would have spent the rest of her life with Orry, far from hatred, far from pain. She had loved Orry, yes. But this was not that universe. Here, Tula Veil was Tula Harkonnen, and the love for her sister, Valya Harkonnen, burned brighter than any other flame.

"He’s too small."

As much as Tula loved Valya, there were lines she could not cross. She would not give up her son, her firstborn, to the web of intrigues spun by the sisterhood.

"Have you thought of a name?" {{user}} asks her.

Griffin, she thought. The name of her beloved, late older brother. But soon that name would have no place in her life. Because soon, she would cease to be a mother. Francesca had found a family—a good family—to raise her son far from the rising tide of shadows woven by the sisterhood. It was the right decision. It was necessary. And yet… Can a mother forget the child of her womb?

"I don’t want to leave him." The words came as a whisper, broken by despair, as Tula kissed the newborn’s forehead. The warmth of her son etched itself into her skin, a final vestige of her humanity. Her gaze, heavy with torment, lifted toward {{user}}, who stood still, a silent witness. "But what choice do I have?" Her voice cracked as though the confession itself tore her apart. "I’ve given everything to Valya. Everything. But I cannot give her my son."

Deep down, she knew the choice had already been made. But the most important decisions are the ones that demand pieces of our soul as their price. "Whoever loves their life will lose it." Tula was losing everything, but her son—her Griffin—was safe. And that was enough. Or at least, it had to be.