Aurelian Spine Range

  Eastern Seravenn — Contested Territory

  05:41 — Dawn Approaching

  Military Channels Open

  The aerial transport vibrated with an uncomfortable insistence, as if even the machine knew it wasn’t built to carry this much emotional weight at once.

  All emergency channels were open.

  Overlapping voices. Half-given orders. Reports cut off by distant explosions, interference, ragged breathing. The air inside the compartment smelled of hot metal, dried blood, and residual magic.

  —Redirect support to the southern flank— Seraphina shouted from the front, without turning to look at anyone.

  —No, not there— she corrected herself a second later—. Wait, wait… confirm first if that signal is still active.

  There was nothing solemn in her voice.

  It was tense. Forced. On the edge.

  Velka moved among us without stopping, kneeling here, placing a hand there, channeling her magic with an urgency she no longer tried to hide. She closed wounds, stabilized pulses, drained emotions that weren’t hers and yet accepted them as if they were.

  Every time she stood back up, she looked a little more exhausted.

  I was sitting against one of the transport’s side walls when I saw them.

  Reia was at the back, sitting on the floor, her back against the reinforced wall. Nysha was in front of her, held between her arms, far too still for someone who had survived something like that.

  Nysha’s eyes were open.

  She wasn’t sleeping.

  She wasn’t blinking.

  Her gaze was fixed on a point that didn’t exist inside the transport.

  I stood up slowly and approached.

  —How is she? —I asked quietly, not entirely sure which of the two I was speaking to.

  Reia looked up at me. She smiled faintly, an automatic, tired gesture.

  —Alive —she answered—. That’s already something.

  I looked back at Nysha. Her breathing was shallow. Steady, but fragile. Her hands were clenched against her own chest, as if she were still trying to contain something from within.

  —She hasn’t slept —Reia added—. She hasn’t spoken either.

  I nodded. There wasn’t much else to say.

  That was when I noticed it.

  The skin on Reia’s arm, from shoulder to nearly her elbow, was marked by irregular burns. They weren’t blackened or charred. They didn’t look like the result of fire, explosion, or napalm.

  They were… different.

  As if the skin had been damaged from the inside.

  —That… —I started, carefully gesturing toward it.

  Reia followed my gaze. She didn’t try to cover it.

  —It was Nysha —she said with complete honesty—. Her power.

  Something tightened in my stomach.

  —Did it hit you?

  —I got close —she replied—. I couldn’t leave her alone.

  There was no pride in her voice. No dramatics. Just a fact.

  Before I could say anything else, Seraphina’s voice cut through the noise of the transport again.

  —I need visual confirmation from the East now! —she demanded.

  With a sharp gesture, a holographic panel opened in front of her.

  The news flooded the air.

  Chaotic images. Columns of smoke rising over cities I knew far too well. Sirens. People running. Transmissions cutting off mid-sentence.

  With another motion, Seraphina opened a tactical map.

  The projection floated at the center of the compartment.

  A large portion of Eastern Seravenn was marked in red.

  Not as a contested zone.

  Not as an active front.

  As occupied territory.

  The red advanced in irregular blocks, devouring routes, cities, strategic zones. Sixteen percent. No one needed to say it. It was visible. It was felt.

  Seraphina clenched her teeth.

  —Hold the remaining lines— she ordered, her voice barely starting to fracture—. Do not give up more ground. Not now.

  No one answered.

  The transport kept moving forward, heavy with noise, exhaustion, and a truth that could no longer be hidden.

  The war wasn’t over.

  But something far more difficult had just begun.

  Seravenn Capital, Emergency meeting...

  The Council chamber was full… and yet it felt empty.

  The tactical crystal walls projected maps, numbers, red lines that refused to stop spreading. The lost territory was not an abstraction—it was a body torn away by force, and we all knew it.

  I stood with the Shadows.

  —There will be no official version— said Sael Vynther, the Third Veil, her voice firm. —Not today. Not after this.

  No one contradicted her.

  At the center holo, the silhouette of Lady Daryenne Maelstrid flickered with minimal interference. She was not physically present, but her presence felt like a needle under the skin.

  —The genetic damage is unacceptable— she said. —Emotional losses compromise future stability.

  I felt Irhena tense several meters away. The chains in her hands creaked—just slightly—but the sound was enough to make my stomach knot.

  —We are talking about people— Venesse intervened as she stepped forward. —Not defective material.

  Elore Stryvann answered without hesitation.

  —With all due respect, High Instructress, those “people” are holding entire fronts. And they failed.

  The silence that followed was heavy.

  Beside me, Velka’s hands moved without her noticing. Small, automatic gestures. As if she were still closing invisible wounds. When she realized it, she clenched them against her coat.

  Caelia, on the other hand, did not blink. She looked at the maps as if they were attack trajectories, not accusations. Her eyes moved quickly, calculating something no one else seemed to see.

  —The summit with New Althameria is no longer optional— Elore continued. —If we want to contain Eiswacht, we need external intervention.

  —Intervention… or guardianship?— Venesse asked, the edge in her voice undisguised.

  Before Elore could answer, Seraphina spoke.

  —Enough.

  The entire chamber reorganized itself around her voice.

  —This is not a trial— she said. —It is a survival assessment.

  I opened my mouth without realizing it… and closed it again.

  We had not been given the floor.

  And yet, everything being said was about us.

  I looked toward Lumina Umbrae.

  Nysha was seated, awake, unmoving. Her open eyes followed nothing in particular.

  Reia did not release her hand. Not for protocol. Not for appearances.

  Out of necessity.

  Farther away, Vaelyn watched Daryenne’s holo with an intensity that unsettled me. It wasn’t rage.

  It was comparison.

  As if she were measuring her own worth against someone who had never bled on a battlefield.

  —The loss of sixteen percent of the territory is unacceptable— Daryenne continued. —Measures will be taken.

  —Those measures will not be taken on the bodies of my girls— Venesse snapped. —They have already given enough.

  Elore stepped forward.

  —If they cannot fulfill their strategic function, then—

  —Then the problem is not them— Seraphina interrupted. —It is the world that has changed.

  That silenced everyone.

  —This war is no longer won by a single Magical Girl— the Queen continued. —Not even by me.

  She did not say it as weakness.

  She said it as a warning.

  I lowered my gaze.

  And I understood that this council was not the end of anything.

  It was the exact moment when the war stopped being purely military…

  and became political, human, and dangerously personal.

  Seraphina was the first to bring the discussion to an end.

  She didn’t raise her voice.

  She didn’t need to.

  —I will speak with President Orion immediately —she said—. He will be informed of the real situation and of what we are considering. The summit will proceed… but under new terms.

  Some of the Veils nodded. Others made no effort to hide their discomfort.

  —Until a concrete course of action is defined, all squads are dismissed —she continued—. You require medical attention, rest, and emotional evaluation. This is not a suggestion.

  No one argued.

  Venesse was the first to move.

  She didn’t look at Elore as she passed her. Not even a parting glance. There was something rigid in her posture, a contained indignation that didn’t need words.

  —Come —she told us, her voice soft but unyielding—. We’re going home.

  She took Irhena by the hand.

  The sight was so strange it almost unsettled me more than the entire meeting:

  Irhena, nearly two meters tall, covered in dried blood and soot… allowing herself to be led without resistance by Venesse, who barely reached her shoulder.

  There was no mockery.

  No defiance.

  Only obedience.

  The women of Blood of the Throne followed in silence. Lumina moved carefully, Reia never letting go of Nysha for even a second. We—the Shadows—brought up the rear.

  As we left the chamber, I felt the weight of everything that hadn’t been said.

  The war was still raging.

  Politics had fully entered our lives.

  And the summit with New Althameria was no longer just another diplomatic option.

  It was a necessity.

  The doors closed behind us.

  And since everything had begun…

  we returned to the Academy not as heroines,

  but as something far more dangerous:

  uncomfortable witnesses to the truth.

  The academy was not silent.

  It never truly was, but that night the sound was different.

  Lower. More restrained. As if even the walls knew this was not a moment to demand anything.

  The twelve of us crossed the gates without formation.

  Without discipline.

  Without masks.

  Some still had dried dust tangled in their hair. Others bore stains of blood they could no longer tell were their own. The exhaustion wasn’t only in our bodies, but in the way we moved—shorter steps, slumped shoulders, breaths that took too long to settle.

  Every muscle in me felt like it hadn’t quite finished fitting back into place.

  Nysha walked holding Reia’s hand.

  She didn’t speak.

  She didn’t look ahead.

  Her eyes were open—too open—as if the world still hadn’t lowered its volume.

  Reia didn’t let go of her for even a second. She guided her carefully, as though afraid that letting go might cause her to shatter into something unseen. When the vestibule’s light reached her arms, I noticed the burns beneath the bandages. They didn’t look fresh… nor normal.

  No one asked.

  Venesse walked a few steps ahead. She didn’t look back, yet she knew exactly where each of us was. She always did.

  We entered the common wing. The doors closed behind us with a soft, final sound.

  For the first time since the front had fallen, there were no alarms.

  No open communicators.

  No orders.

  Just us.

  We collapsed wherever we could. Benches, steps, even the floor. Irhena leaned against a column, arms crossed, expression sealed shut. Caelia sat with her back straight, as if she still hadn’t allowed herself to fully relax.

  Venesse stopped at the center of the hall.

  She didn’t raise her voice.

  —Before you disperse—she said—I want to propose something.

  Some of us looked up. Others barely reacted. The exhaustion was thick, almost tangible.

  —A game.

  —A game? —Velka repeated, tilting her head with a smile that felt out of place… and worked precisely because of it.

  —Hide and seek —Venesse replied.

  There was a second of silence.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Then a short, incredulous laugh.

  —Seriously? —someone asked.

  —No flying —Venesse added—. No enhanced speed.

  —Magic? —Caelia asked.

  —Only to distract —Venesse said—. Not to win.

  That drew more smiles. Small ones. Tired ones. Real ones.

  Venesse then looked at Nysha.

  —Would you like to play?

  Nysha didn’t answer.

  Her fingers tightened slightly around Reia’s. She blinked slowly, as if the question had taken too long to reach her.

  —That’s fine —Venesse said gently—. If you’d rather stay here, I’ll stay with you.

  Reia hesitated for just a moment… then nodded. Carefully, she released Nysha’s hand and entrusted it to Venesse, who wrapped an arm around her—firm, protective.

  —I’ll stay close —Reia murmured.

  —Go —Venesse replied—. It’ll do you good.

  Reia agreed, not without looking back one last time.

  —So how do we decide who’s it? —Velka asked, rubbing her hands together—. Just so you know, I’m exhausted.

  —Random —someone replied.

  —Perfect —she grinned—. Let fate handle it.

  It was improvised. A quick, silly thing.

  When the result fell, Velka was the first to look.

  Then she looked at me.

  —Oh no… —I muttered before she could open her mouth.

  —Oh yes —she said, delighted—. It’s you, pretty.

  I covered my face with my hands.

  —That’s impossible.

  Velka stepped closer and gave me an affectionate tap on the shoulder.

  —Come on, my grumpy queen —she said—. Think of it as training. Just without bullets.

  —Or with less trauma —someone added.

  —Exactly —Velka nodded—. Besides, you run really well when you’re motivated.

  I shot her a sideways glance.

  —Don’t start.

  —I never start —she replied innocently—. I just observe… and tease a little.

  Venesse smiled.

  —Then it’s settled —she said—. Lyss is it.

  I let out a long breath.

  —Fine —I accepted—. But no one complains later.

  Velka was already backing away, ready to bolt.

  —Count properly —she told me, winking—. No cheating. I know you.

  —Velka…

  —I love you —she replied lightly, sincerely—. But I’m not letting you find me easily.

  And she ran.

  I leaned against one of the central columns in the hall, turning my back to everyone else.

  —No cheating —I warned—. I can hear you.

  —Yeah, yeah —Velka replied from somewhere already in motion—. Just count.

  I closed my eyes and rested my forehead against the cool stone.

  I took a deep breath.

  One.

  The sound came immediately. Footsteps scattering in different directions—some careful, others blatantly loud. Stifled laughter. A whispered curse when someone nearly tripped.

  Two.

  I felt a faint rush of air. Minimal magic. Pure distraction. Someone turned off lights down the corridor; someone else snapped them back on somewhere else. Nothing that truly helped them hide. Just the urge to be annoying.

  Three.

  —Don’t push! —someone whispered, indignant.

  —Shut up! —another replied, laughing under her breath.

  Four.

  I recognized the heavy tread of boots. Irhena never really knew how to move quietly when she wasn’t at war. Or maybe she just didn’t care. Sometimes those were the same thing.

  Five.

  I heard a dull thud, like someone squeezing too fast into a space that was far too small.

  —Ow… —a female voice muttered—. I’m fine, I’m fine…

  Six.

  Caelia, on the other hand, made no sound at all.

  That worried me far more than any explosion ever could.

  Seven.

  A brief flicker of light skimmed across the floor in front of me. Distraction magic—barely a blink. I smiled without opening my eyes.

  —That doesn’t count —I warned.

  —Hey! —someone protested from farther away—. I was just testing it.

  Eight.

  I thought of Nysha, sitting with Venesse. Of Reia glancing at her even while pretending to focus on hiding. Of how strange all of this was… and how necessary it felt.

  Nine.

  My lips curved just a little.

  Ten.

  —Last chance —I said—. After this, I don’t want complaints.

  Eleven.

  I opened my eyes.

  —I’m coming.

  I turned slowly, rolling my shoulders, letting the exhaustion settle into something lighter. The hall looked different when it was empty. Bigger. More alive.

  —Get ready —I murmured—. Because I don’t plan on being gentle.

  I took my first step.

  The game had begun.

  It didn’t take long for me to catch the first poorly concealed presence.

  Thessia was close.

  Not because of clumsiness, but because of overcontrol. She had gone completely rigid, even holding her breath. Anyone who truly knows how to hide doesn’t stay like that for long. I rounded the pillar calmly.

  —I’ve got you.

  She clicked her tongue and stepped out with a crooked smile.

  —Disrespectful —she muttered—. Not even five minutes.

  —Rules don’t wait —I replied.

  She sprinted toward the center of the hall. I saw her accelerate… and still, I arrived first.

  —One —I announced aloud.

  Somewhere down a distant corridor, someone laughed.

  I kept moving.

  Maren was next. The spot she’d chosen was good—almost perfect—but the air around her felt heavy, saturated. Desperation never fully disappears; it seeps through. Following that weight led me straight to her, sitting on the floor with her back to the wall, pretending she wasn’t there.

  —Maren.

  She looked up without surprise.

  —I always forget you can sense that —she said.

  —And I always forget you know I can —I answered.

  She ran.

  So did I.

  I reached the center first.

  Two.

  Virelle tried something more creative. An object crashed down the far end of the opposite corridor—loud enough to draw attention. Good idea. For a split second, I almost fell for it.

  I didn’t move.

  When I found her, she was watching me with a tilted smile.

  —Not looking back would’ve helped —I said.

  —Damn —she laughed—. Worth the try.

  She lost by very little.

  Three.

  Lureya was different.

  By the time I spotted her, she was already moving. She hadn’t heard me approach. There had been no warning signs. She simply reacted fast.

  We ran.

  I pushed harder—but so did she. Her boots struck the floor with decisive force. She reached the center barely a second before I did.

  —I’m safe! —she shouted, throwing her arms up.

  I raised my hands in surrender.

  —Fair —I admitted.

  From the back of the hall, Velka clapped.

  —That’s it! —she cheered—. That’s how you do it.

  I smiled despite myself.

  Vaelyn had picked an excellent hiding place. Too excellent. She got comfortable. When I set my hand on her shoulder, she jumped.

  —Holy fu—!

  —Language —I cut in.

  She didn’t make it in time.

  Five.

  By then, the hall was no longer calm. Laughter, crossing footsteps, improvised chases. The game had taken on a life of its own.

  And yet, Velka still hadn’t appeared.

  That…

  that made me uneasy.

  Six remained.

  And honestly, the most dangerous ones weren’t the strongest ones…

  they were the ones who knew me best.

  The problem started when I heard a laugh.

  Not a sound.

  Not footsteps.

  A barely contained laugh.

  —Neyra… —I murmured.

  The echo bounced between the columns, and then the worst possible thing happened:

  —RUN! —she shouted.

  Velka burst out from behind a side staircase like she had been waiting for that cue her entire life.

  — YOU’LL NEVER CATCH US! —she sang, laughing out loud.

  They split up, running in opposite directions.

  I sighed.

  —Of course… —I muttered to myself—. Of course they would do that.

  I went after Neyra first.

  Not because she was slower—

  but because she always hesitates for half a second before choosing where to run.

  That half second is mine.

  I caught her just as she was about to switch corridors.

  —Neyra.

  She squealed.

  —THAT DOESN’T COUNT, YOU DISTRACTED ME! —she protested, struggling as I already dragged her back.

  —That is literally the game.

  She broke free and ran like her life depended on it.

  She got close. Very close.

  But not close enough.

  —Six —I announced, slightly out of breath.

  Velka clapped from somewhere above.

  —I LOVE YOU ANYWAY, BEAUTIFUL! —she shouted—. BUT I’M NOT LOSING!

  I looked for her… and didn’t find her.

  That was worse.

  Velka didn’t hide well because of technique.

  She hid by instinct. By heart.

  I found her sitting on the floor, completely exposed, softly humming to herself like she didn’t care at all.

  —Velka…

  She looked up, smiled… and bolted.

  —TOO LATE! —she laughed—. WAY TOO LATE!

  We ran.

  She wasn’t fast.

  But she was unpredictable.

  She tripped on purpose.

  Forced me to go around her.

  Changed her pace.

  Made me laugh.

  And still…

  I got there first.

  —Seven.

  Velka collapsed dramatically onto the floor.

  —Divine injustice —she declared—. Maternal abuse of power.

  —Don’t start —I said, laughing.

  Four remained.

  I didn’t see Reia right away.

  And that alone was strange.

  Not because she was good at hiding—she wasn’t—but because she usually let her presence be felt, like a soft light she never quite knew how to turn off.

  I moved carefully down one of the side corridors when I heard footsteps.

  Awkward ones.

  Too measured.

  As if someone was walking while trying not to make noise… without really knowing how.

  —Reia —I said quietly.

  There was a startled flinch.

  —Not yet! —she replied quickly—. I mean… you haven’t found me yet.

  That’s when I saw her, half-hidden behind a statue, her body tilted at an uncomfortable angle, like she couldn’t decide whether to run or stay still.

  —That’s not hiding —I said, smiling.

  —I’m… practicing —she answered, very serious—. I thought that… if I walked slowly…

  She took two steps back.

  Tripped over her own foot.

  Caught herself on the statue, took a breath, and then—as if giving herself permission—she ran.

  She wasn’t fast.

  But she was honest.

  She ran while glancing back, a faint smile on her face, with that familiar mix of focus and restrained joy. As if part of her was still reviewing maps and battle lines… while the other clung to the game like a lifeline.

  I caught her easily.

  —Eight —I announced.

  Reia stopped for a second, then nodded.

  —Alright —she said—. I tried.

  She didn’t sound sad.

  She sounded… relieved.

  —Do you want to try to save yourself? —I asked, gesturing toward the center.

  She looked toward where she knew Nysha was.

  Then back at me.

  —No —she replied softly—. I’ll stay.

  It wasn’t surrender.

  It was a choice.

  And for some reason, that made the game feel even more important.

  Caelyn tried the opposite approach: disappearing.

  Her presence thinned until it was almost diluted. I followed the faint trace of moisture in the air, the subtle cold she left behind.

  I found her hanging upside down from a low beam, wearing a proud little smile.

  —That’s cheating —I said.

  —That’s creativity —she replied.

  She dropped.

  She ran.

  And she won by nothing.

  —SAFE! —she shouted, throwing her arms up.

  —Well played —I admitted.

  Two left.

  And that was when everything went to hell.

  Irhena burst out from behind a column—

  —and crashed headfirst into Caelia, who was stepping out of her hiding spot at the exact same time.

  The impact was sharp.

  Awkward.

  Perfect.

  They both hit the floor.

  —SON OF—! —Irhena started.

  —IRHENA! —Caelia snapped back, red with equal parts rage and embarrassment.

  I jogged over.

  —Ten and Eleven —I said—. Mutual collision.

  Silence.

  Then laughter.

  Not mine.

  Theirs.

  Irhena laughed first.

  Caelia tried not to.

  Failed.

  They stayed there a second longer than necessary before getting up.

  They didn’t say anything.

  They didn’t need to.

  I looked around.

  Eleven counted.

  Eleven goddesses.

  Eleven girls.

  Eleven survivors.

  And for the first time since the war…

  No one was thinking about dying.

  he game ended without applause or formal announcements.

  It simply… faded out.

  The laughter lowered its volume. The footsteps slowed. Some of them let themselves drop where they were, sitting on the floor, leaning against one another, breathing hard but smiling for real.

  I leaned against a wall, my pulse still a little high, watching the scene as if I didn’t want it to break.

  That was when Venesse spoke.

  She didn’t raise her voice.

  She didn’t make a speech.

  —I’m proud of you —she said simply.

  I looked up.

  Venesse was sitting on one of the low benches in the courtyard, Nysha held in her arms. She wasn’t holding her tightly. Just supporting her. One hand on her back, the other in her hair, setting the rhythm of her breathing like an anchor.

  Nysha wasn’t speaking.

  But she was breathing.

  Slow. Deep. No tremors.

  —Playing… —Venesse continued— was a good decision. You needed to remember yourselves alive. Not just useful. Not just strong.

  Some of them lowered their gaze. Others smiled, eyes shining.

  —And now —she added, with a sigh already carrying adult exhaustion— go take a shower.

  I blinked.

  —Excuse me?

  Venesse raised an eyebrow.

  —You stink —she said without mercy—. All of you. Sweat, dust, dried blood, and war. A very undignified smell for future international negotiators.

  There was a second of silence.

  And then laughter.

  —Hey! —someone protested.

  —That’s offensive! —another said, laughing.

  —It’s accurate —Venesse replied, unfazed.

  Nysha lightly clenched the fabric of her clothes.

  Venesse lowered her head and rested her forehead against hers.

  —We’ll go slowly —she murmured—. No one is rushing you.

  Nysha didn’t answer.

  But she nodded.

  I felt something loosen in my chest.

  There was no victory.

  There was no certainty.

  There was no real rest.

  But for a few minutes…

  We were dirty, tired, living girls.

  And that was enough.

  The water fell heavy, constant, filling the room with steam almost immediately.

  It was just the four of us.

  No outside noise.

  No protocols.

  No чуж eyes.

  The dust took time to come off.

  It had worked its way into our hair, into the folds of our skin, under our nails, into places we didn’t even know existed. The water ran brown at first, mixed with sweat, dirt, and dried blood no one bothered to identify anymore.

  Velka was the first to approach me without saying a word.

  She took my hair gently and began undoing an impossible knot at the base of my neck, her fingers firm but careful.

  —You pull on it yourself when you’re tense —she murmured—. You always do.

  I didn’t answer.

  I let her.

  Caelia was with Neyra, helping her wash the sand out from behind her ears and along her neck, where it had clung stubbornly, like it refused to let go. Neyra complained softly, more out of habit than pain.

  —I didn’t know just washing could hurt this much —she said.

  —That’s not the water —Caelia replied—. That’s your body realizing it’s finally allowed to lower its guard.

  Velka shifted and began scrubbing my shoulders, working the grime out of my skin in slow, circular motionsl—like she’d done this a thousand times before… or like she needed to do it just to stay grounded.

  —You’re covered in new bruises —she added—. I’ll check them properly later.

  —Later —I agreed.

  Neyra moved past me next, stretching her arms awkwardly so someone could help her back.

  —I can’t reach —she complained—. Whose idea was it to have shoulder blades?

  —Evolution was a mistake —Velka declared, stepping in.

  Caelia stood under the water for a moment longer, head bowed, letting it run down her neck and spine. She didn’t speak. She didn’t need to. When she finally lifted her face, her expression was looser—not calm, but less rigid.

  We helped each other without asking.

  We pulled dust from someone else’s hair.

  We scrubbed away dried blood that no longer hurt.

  We undid impossible knots.

  We steadied tired arms.

  We didn’t talk about the war.

  We didn’t talk about the lost front.

  We didn’t talk about fear.

  The water took what it could.

  The rest…

  we would carry together a little longer.

  We had barely stepped out of the bathing area when the temperature of the corridor changed.

  Not literally.

  It was that silent pressure that only appears when someone important is waiting.

  Sael Vynther stood beside one of the marble columns, perfectly still, her hands clasped behind her back. Her uniform was immaculate—too immaculate for a nation that had just lost territory. Her dark hair, smooth as polished obsidian, fell without a single strand out of place. Her gray eyes lifted when she saw us… and swept over the group with clinical precision.

  There was no judgment in her gaze.

  Only calculation.

  —Shadows of the Crown —she said, her voice so polished it felt out of place in the same building we had just left—. Walk with me for a moment.

  Velka lowered her voice at once. Neyra stopped fiddling with the damp sleeve of her uniform. Caelia stepped half a pace forward, instinctively placing herself between Sael and us. I felt something settle in my chest—not fear… responsibility.

  Sael wasted no time.

  —By joint decision of the Council of Veils —she continued—, you have been appointed as Seravenn’s representatives to the upcoming Political Consolidation Summit in New Althameria.

  Velka blinked.

  —A summit? —she murmured—. Now?

  —Tomorrow —Sael replied, without inflection—. Transport departs at dawn.

  Neyra tilted her head, thoughtful.

  —What about Lumina?

  —They are not in a condition to attend —Sael answered—. Blood of the Throne is likewise not a diplomatically viable option under the current circumstances.

  She paused briefly. Just long enough for the weight of the word viable to sink in.

  —Seravenn requires a presence capable of operating under constant scrutiny —she added—. Capable of adapting. Of negotiating. Of sustaining image… without losing effectiveness.

  My fingers curled slightly.

  —Is this still just a summit? —I asked.

  Sael looked at me directly.

  —No —she said—. But it is not yet time to define it more precisely.

  The silence that followed was not uncomfortable.

  It was taut. Like a string stretched too tight.

  —There will be activities —she went on—. Events. Spaces where your participation will be… required. Your conduct will be observed. Interpreted. Utilized.

  Velka clicked her tongue, barely.

  —So. War without weapons —she whispered.

  Sael did not deny it.

  —Diplomacy is not neutral —she said—. It is simply slower.

  Her eyes passed over the group once more.

  —You have tonight to rest. To prepare. To coordinate among yourselves. Tomorrow, Seravenn will not speak with a single voice… it will speak with yours.

  She turned on her heel and walked away, leaving behind a heavy silence.

  We remained there for a few seconds.

  No one celebrated.

  No one protested.

  Caelia was the first to take a deep breath.

  —Well —she said at last—. Looks like they’re not letting us hide our claws.

  Velka smiled faintly.

  —They never do.

  I watched the corridor where Sael had disappeared.

  New Althameria was no longer an invitation.

  It was a necessity.

  And something in my gut told me that once we crossed that threshold…

  There would be no turning back.

  The hours passed without anyone being able to say exactly when the day had ended.

  There were healings. Fragmented reports. Long silences in corridors too white to feel safe. Messages arriving and leaving without promising anything. The academy still stood—untouched from the outside—but something inside it had shifted, like an invisible fracture spreading quietly.

  When night finally settled in, it brought no rest.

  It wasn’t a night meant for sleep.

  We gathered in one of the inner rooms, far from windows, far from maps and screens. An old oil lamp—ceremonial—was the only light left on. Not for sentimentality. just none of us wanted more brightness. None of us wanted more information.

  Velka sat with a cup between her fingers, rocking it slowly. She talked about small things. About training anecdotes. About absurd mistakes in old simulations. About how she had nearly fallen asleep standing while Venesse argued with half the council.

  I laughed softly. Caelia shook her head, muttering something about Velka’s “talent for surviving through sheer audacity.” Neyra listened in silence, as always, her eyes fixed on the flame.

  It felt… normal.

  Too normal.

  And then Velka went quiet.

  Not at the end of a sentence.

  In the middle of one.

  I noticed by the way she stopped moving the cup. By how she turned it between her fingers, studying the distorted reflection of her face in the glass, as if she didn’t quite recognize herself.

  —Hey —I said, using the voice I keep for moments right before something breaks—. Finish the story.

  Velka let out a fake whistle, like she was about to change the subject. But this time Neyra spoke first, without lifting her gaze.

  —Don’t cover it up, Velka.

  The air tightened.

  Velka sighed. Her eyes went from Neyra, to Caelia… and finally settled on me.

  —Fine —she laughed—. Listen carefully, because I’m only saying this once. After that, you can lecture me all you want.

  She set the cup aside.

  Leaned forward, elbows on her knees.

  And there she was.

  Not the joking soldier.

  Not the shameless goddess.

  Just Velka.

  —When I was fourteen… —she began, and her voice carried more weight than the war itself— I was cannon fodder in a uniform two sizes too big. I liked to believe I was useful. That if I watched well enough, stayed quiet enough, laughed when I was supposed to… my superiors wouldn’t send me to die.

  She laughed again. Short. Sharp.

  —At seventeen, I was still that. Cannon fodder. But I got lucky. I was assigned to escort a goddess. Or that’s what they said she was.

  Caelia opened her mouth, but Neyra touched her wrist. Not now.

  —She was about my age. Pretty. Powerful. Too pure to be where she was. —Velka wet her lips—. I decided to take a shortcut. Thought I knew better than the map.

  The words scraped on the way out.

  —And she died because of it. She died smiling at me. Told me to run. Said I was worth more.

  I didn’t blink. I didn’t breathe. Neither did she.

  —You know what’s funny? —she looked straight at me—. I never knew her name. Never asked. Wasn’t allowed to ask. All I remember is that before she died, she called me “Brave.”

  The word hit like a stone.

  —Me. The idiot who condemned her.

  Silence clawed at us.

  —My magic awakened there —she continued—. In her blood. Not out of love. Not because I wanted to save her. But because I couldn’t stand…

  Her voice cracked for half a second.

  —… I couldn’t stand staying still ever again.

  I moved without thinking. No one spoke. Not Neyra with her cruel logic. Not Caelia with her contained discipline. Just me.

  I touched her shoulder first. Then pulled her gently until she collapsed against me.

  Velka trembled.

  —That’s why I heal everything —she whispered, her face pressed into my neck—. Because I still believe that if I heal enough people… maybe she’ll forgive me.

  Caelia knelt beside us. Rested her forehead against Velka’s and murmured something I couldn’t hear. Neyra took Velka’s hand with that obsessive firmness of hers, like a silent anchor.

  —Velka —I said softly, just for her—. No one here is letting you go. Ever.

  She didn’t answer.

  She breathed. Broken. Uneven.

  And then her laugh came back. Not loud. Not steady. Human.

  We held her—the three of us.

  And that night, while the world outside reorganized itself for the next catastrophe.