Artemio continued, his tone now stripped of mockery, replaced by something far more dangerous—certainty.
"The day you were born, your destiny was cast in stone."
A flicker of confusion crossed her face. "Destiny? What is my destiny?"
"The vendetta, Lara...the blood feud." he cut in, his voice like steel, "as the eldest, you have to carry it out."
Silence.
The world around them—the distant voices, the sound of tools against stone, the rustling wind—seemed to fade.
Lara felt it then.
Not just fear but something colder.
"…Blood feud with whom? Is it your enemy?" she asked, her voice quieter now, but no less steady.
Artemio studied her for a long moment, as if measuring how much she could take.
Then he said—
"Not just my enemy, Lara," he said quietly. "It's yours too."
The answer landed flat.
And they both knew it.
