So in her mind, my weapon had to be something unholy.
I raised the stiletto, letting the light catch its edge. My voice was flat and cold. "Cursed? No common killer is worthy of wielding this."
"But you'll find out what it is soon enough."
I crouched beside Edoardo's body and drew the blade across his chest, slow and deliberate, blooding the steel.
"Since our dear senior brother had no loyalty to speak of, his blood might as well serve a better purpose. A blood offering for my blade."
"Nara, you vicious monster!"
Rosalia's eyes went red with rage. She pulled a gun from beneath her jacket and lunged toward me.
But at the critical moment, a Valente soldier beside her seized her arm and hauled her back, his hand trembling as he pointed at the stiletto hovering over Edoardo's body, the black handle slick and gleaming.
"Lady Rosalia, look. Your junior sister's blade... something's wrong with it. It's drinking the blood on its own."
Rosalia didn't care. She scoffed, flipping her hair over her left shoulder. "Old weapons never play by the rules. What's so strange about that?"
The soldier shook his head frantically. "No, you don't understand. You've only just been made."