—-The Regime took all that mattered to you… and yet, you blamed your father?—-

The Regime never lied about who they were. They were brutal, yes. But honest.

—-Honesty meant something to you?—-

It meant everything.

—-Interesting. And so, in the face of your father, the hypocrite, you leaned on The Regime that enslaved you both instead. That killed so many of your kind.—-

The Regime did not enslave me. It freed me.

(The Regime puts the Glaive back in my hand, the one I named in honor of you. I have renamed it—Rheliksbane—and no matter how you try to hide it, this scares you. Just as I knew it would.)

(I'd be lying if I said I didn't take pleasure in this. But I do. Just as I take pleasure in the constant Sapphiric light. And the roof over my head. The consistency in regular meals. The Regime lives well, comfortable.)

(The city may be overcrowded. The laws may be strict. The few may have all of the power. But at least we're not out there trying fruitlessly to survive. At least we're not out there scared, cold and alone, wondering if we'll live to see the next rise of either sun.)

(But most importantly, Father—nobody denies me my thirst. My lust for blood. They encourage it. Feed it. And they have begun to show me truths. About the Wanderers. About what the glimmering orb encouraged.)

(You always claimed the hands of The Regime were stained red, but you never showed me yours—until now.)

(How dare you stand before me now and confess your disloyalty to The Regime. How dare you lie to me again.)

(You may have overwhelmed me this time. Escaped my grasp. But I am coming for you. I will end this.)