The chill of Pyrexian dawn bit through my cloak as Rheon stared at the cat in my arms—master folded into fur and silence. My disciple's absence had cost hours of argument, but he'd finally stayed to guard the Imperial vipers' nest.
"My companions ride with me," I declared, swinging onto the saddle. The wind snatched at my black cap like a restless ghost. "Non-negotiable."
Rheon's gaze sharpened on Master. Damn his instincts. Even fractured, his magic hummed beneath the skin—enough to sense power coiled behind blue eyes.
"Stop eyeing my cat," I snapped, shielding Master's glare. A low growl vibrated against my ribs.
"That's no hearth-cat, Tia," Rheon muttered, clicking his tongue. "Looks at me like I'm prey."
"Jealous? Never pictured you coveting a cat,"
"No—it's glaring. Like I kicked its favorite cushion."
I narrowed my eyes at Master. He promptly busied himself washing a paw, innocence radiating from every whisker.
Petty incarnate.
"Cats guard what's theirs," I said, gathering the reins. "Ride now, or explain to Father why his heir vanished before morning bells."
Rheon yanked his cap low. For a heartbeat, frost hung between us. Then his grin flashed—wild and bright. "Ready for your first taste of the wild, Heiress Selentia?"
My heels met the horse's flanks. "Since birth."
Forests swallowed us whole. Mist-laced pines gave way to sun-scorched plains; merchant caravans scattered like beetles beneath our thunder. Two nights bled into the ache of bone and saddle. Every jolt traveled up my spine—this body is still too soft, too human for such punishment.
"By the Twin Moons, Tia! Two nights without a bed?" Rheon's groan rasped like rusted hinges. "Even warhorses rest!"
"Consider it inheritance training," I called over my shoulder, eyes fixed on the road to Yusk. "You'll ride weeks without complaint when your father's borders become yours."
"Then let the Council choke! We should've taken the damned portal!"
I let the wind steal his complaints. Evidence in Yusk wouldn't wait for our comfort.
Master stirred against my chest, unnervingly silent since Xavier. Questions burned, but silence felt heavier than intrusion. Some truths needed stillness to breathe.
---
Laitan Village exploded in color. Flower-draped cottages pressed against streets where laughter rang off cobblestones. Magic lanterns—Sian's influence glowing in every orb—bathed dusk in honeyed light. The air thickened with seared lamb and cardamom cakes.
Rheon wrenched his reins. "We sleep. Here. Tonight."
My protest died as velvet paws tapped my wrist. Master gazed up, weariness pooling in his eyes, his proud whiskers drooping. Even ancient power needed rest.
"One night," I conceded, dismounting.
Rheon's grin could've lit the street. He vanished toward a tavern's glow, already bellowing for ale.
I cradled Master, weaving through the crowd. Lanterns gilded children's hair, copper pots, and the wings of caged songbirds flashing like scattered jewels.
"You collect lunatics as a side hustle," Master murmured as Rheon slapped coins onto a sticky table.
My fingers found the soft fur behind his ears. "Loyal ones. Rarer than golden dragon scales."
The cold night wind carried spices and laughter—a foreign peace that clawed at my senses. How long had it been since I breathed air untainted by chaos? This simple joy felt like a stolen memory, fragile as a child's naive dream of a world untouched by blood or broken crowns...
A world where backs didn't break under the weight of empires yet still refused to bend.
"You're staring like you just stepped out of someone else's ghost story, Tia."
Rheon's voice dragged me back to the present. He lounged against the rough wooden table, lantern light glinting off the blue in his eyes. The evening breeze played with the dark curls at his temples, crafting an illusion of angelic calm.
A carefully constructed lie. I knew the demon that lurked beneath.
My fingers continued their automatic rhythm through Master's fur—a hollow performance of normalcy, as if he were just a common housecat rather than the living foundation of my crumbling world.
"Do you believe in regression, Rheon?" The question left my lips steady as stone.
His wooden cup froze halfway to his mouth. A barely perceptible tremor shook his pupils before he drowned it with a long gulp of water. My own pulse thundered against my ribs, a caged beast tasting the metallic tang of impending revelation.
Rheon's gaze slid past me, over the oblivious crowd—laughing, bargaining, existing without fear. His lips pressed into a bloodless line. When he finally spoke, each word fell like a hammer strike.
"All magic has rules. And consequences." He tapped the enchanted lantern above us, its glow pulsing faintly. "This? Requires a mage's focus. Portals? Demand phoenix ash. But regression..." His eyes locked onto mine, bleak as a freshly dug grave. "...rewrites destiny itself. The price isn't paid in coin or energy."
My throat constricted. No. It couldn't—
"The Regressor sacrifices whoever they love most."
Ice crystallized in my veins. Master's ear flickered against my palm.
Rheon leaned forward, his voice dropping to a dagger's point. He saw—saw through my armor, recognized the dread I couldn't suppress. "Negative energy consumes that person. A corruption no healing can touch. Then Fate extends its hand with a choice."
The lantern light seemed to gutter. The crowd's laughter dissolved into silence. Only his words remained, echoing like a death knell:
"Kill them. Or doom yourself—and them—to an endless cycle of dying and waking, forever rewriting a past you can never mend."