Sometimes the fall doesn’t start with a stumble. It starts with a single step.

You don’t notice it at first. The little shifts, the choices made quietly. A door left open that shouldn’t be. Words spoken in just the wrong order.

Small things – but they all add up.

Over time, they stop looking like accidents and start looking like patterns.

And when you see the pattern, you can’t unsee it.

Some say it’s fate, some say it’s weakness.

Maybe it’s neither. Maybe it’s just the truth finding its way to the surface, no matter how deep you try to bury it.

You see, a person can carry two versions of themselves without even realising it.

One for the light. One for the dark.

Most people keep them separate. Guarded. Controlled.

But when the line between them starts to blur, you can’t tell which is which anymore.

And neither can they.

At that point, it’s only a matter of time. The two versions start talking to each other; start agreeing.

And when they do, the choice is already made.

You can try to stop it – but you can’t stop someone from being who they really are…

Your story has always been divided, hasn’t it, Gemini? Two halves pulling you in opposite directions.

The daughter of Calypso, shaped by loss and survival. The girl who bore the weight of a world torn apart.

And then the other half, forged in the shadows. The spell curser from the Grove – hardened and relentless.

For years, people believed those halves were separate. They clung to the idea that one could redeem the other. That the darkness was something outside you, forced upon you by Nergal’s control or John the Revelator’s commands.

It was easier to accept than the truth.

But the truth doesn’t stay hidden forever.

The Red Light District wasn’t some tragic accident. It wasn’t a moment you lost control or a demon pulling your strings. It was a choice. A step you took when the two halves of you finally aligned.

When the sweet girl and wicked witch stopped fighting and stood united in destruction.

You didn’t need anyone else to pull the trigger. You were both the hand that lit the fuse and the spark that ignited the flame. The path you walked there wasn’t stumbled upon – it was walked deliberately with eyes wide open.

There were signs all along. The way you spoke of that night. The certainty behind your words.

The fire burning quietly behind your gaze when you thought no one was watching.

It wasn’t a moment of exposure, it was the unveiling of a pattern laid bare over time.

The Red Light didn’t fall because you were broken. It fell because you were whole in a way no one wanted to see.

You didn’t just cross a line, you made a step – a step that shattered everything.

And while you burned everything down, I stood waiting for the throne you’d leave empty.

Because when the broken fall, Gemini, someone has to rise – and rise I will at your expense.

Your collapse will be my ascent.

Arcadia will have its king…

And that king will be me.