The Groves.

Gemini sits by the same fire we saw her at on Vendetta, now holding her trusty camera. She stares into the flames, her voice breaking the silence over tear-stained cheeks.

“When someone takes something from you, it leaves a mark. It doesn’t matter if it’s a memory, a choice, or something deeper—it’s a violation. It’s a scar you can’t see but feel every time you breathe, every time you close your eyes. And you, Muerte… you didn’t just take something from me. You took me.”

Her voice falters for a moment, and she grips the camera tighter, her knuckles whitening as she continues.

“You didn’t have the right. You didn’t ask. You didn’t tell me. You just decided that I didn’t need my memories, that I didn’t need to know what I’d done, who I was, or what it all meant. You thought you were protecting me. But what you really did was strip me of everything that made me… me. You didn’t protect me, Muerte. You stole from me.”

Her voice grows sharper, cutting through the air like a blade.

“You erased my pain, my fears, my guilt. You erased my agency. My choice. You played your song, and in that moment, you decided that I didn’t deserve to know my truth. That’s not love, Muerte. That’s control. That’s taking something that can never be given back. You think you had the right to rewrite my story because Zeus was coming? Because you thought you were saving me? No. What you did wasn’t salvation—it was betrayal.”

She stands abruptly, pacing near the fire as her anger begins to spill over, her voice trembling with both fury and sorrow.

“I remember now. I remember everything. Grimskull. Drewitt. JTR. The Red Light District. The lives I took, the blood on my hands. You didn’t save me from that, Muerte—you just hid it, buried it deep until it came crashing back. And now? Now I’m the one left to pick up the pieces of the person you shattered.”

She stops, her voice steady but seething with emotion.

“You don’t understand what you’ve done to me. You took away my ability to decide, to choose how I carried my own pain. You turned me into a ghost of myself, and now you want me to trust you again? To stand beside you like nothing happened? Like I can ever forgive what you stole from me?”

Her fists clench at her sides, her voice rising with defiance as the leather strap of her camera tightens.

“I can’t. I won’t. At Red Snow, we fight—not because I want to, but because we have to. Zeus wants us both dead, and maybe he’s right. Maybe we’re both too broken, too dangerous, to let the truth live. But don’t mistake my reluctance for forgiveness, Muerte. You crossed a line that you can never come back from.”

She throws her camera down.

“Don’t bother taking a picture, Muerte. Because what you took from me? That’s something you’ll never erase.”

Cut.