[Nicole Anstalionah.]
Nicholas had improved greatly in his training. With war on the horizon, it felt important to assess his growth.
Only Mirabel seemed unwilling to accept my sudden forgiveness. Not that I blamed her. Her judgment was fair, regardless of Nicholas's.
I watched them trade blows. Once, Nicholas would've collapsed after a few exchanges. Now, he held his own for hours.
I turned to leave, satisfied, but a familiar presence stopped me.
Purple hair draped over the balcony. Her aura, grand enough to shake the stars, pressed against me.
She wore a short black dress, high brown boots, and her spinning violet eyes never quite settled on me. Her skin was pale, her lips coated in dark gloss.
"Nicole, watching people is weird."
I stood and crossed my arms. "You're doing the same."
She shrugged. "Is he aware I've returned from Camelot?"
It had been two days since war was officially declared. Nicholas had sent her away on the very day.
"I'm sure he knows. But let's not interrupt them mid-training."
Kivana nodded and slipped her arm through mine. "Then take me somewhere I can sit. I'm tired."
If she weren't married to Malachi and ten times stronger than me, I might've hit her. I sighed and led her to a quiet lounge room nearby.
The stone walls dimmed with passing clouds.
I ordered the guards and attendants out, then sat on the couch opposite her, fluffing a white pillow behind my back.
She crossed her legs and leaned in. "So, what did you do to earn his forgiveness?"
"Nothing. I think he concluded on his own."
Her lips curved. "Whatever you say. Anyway, Merlin's taken over Camelot."
Exactly as I expected. If Camelot ever unified its strength, world conquest wouldn't be impossible.
"Did you meet her? My father sent agents to monitor the situation."
She shook her head. "No. She was occupied. My guess is they're trying to awaken Arthur."
I clenched my teeth. That man rising from eternal sleep would be unfortunate.
I kept my voice calm. "Do you think I'm strong enough yet?"
She studied me for a long moment before smiling. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you're trying to atone."
"Just answer the question, Kivana."
She chuckled and leaned back. "No. You couldn't defeat Merlin."
That was no insult. Merlin's title as the strongest mage in the world wasn't empty. No one could stand before her in a battle of pure magic.
Even so, Kivana's strength wasn't to be overlooked. She might even rival Mirabel.
But everyone in Anstalionah knew the truth, whether the rest of the world did or not.
Mirabel was the strongest. And Nicholas stood under her divine protection.
"I should retrieve my treasure from the altar."
Kivana reached forward and pressed two fingers to my chest. "Wait. Your heart still beats with uneven rhythm."
I smiled softly. "Maybe. But this war will bring out forces unknown. I intend to make a name for myself."
She sighed and leaned back again. "You don't need to hide behind some desperate quest for redemption. Just keep going."
I sat forward, rubbing my palm. "I hate it, Kivana. That there are people stronger than me."
Her expression turned wild for a moment, then she laughed. "You're full of sin, you know that?"
I glanced at the door. A moment later, Mirabel entered. I gave Kivana a soft smile and stood.
"I am."
I left the room as the two of them began talking.
The hallway stretched ahead, quiet and clean.
I made my way to the rear of the castle and stepped into the courtyard, following a stone trail that led toward the garden.
Passing under an arch of blooming flowers, I smiled faintly.
My mother used to send me here whenever my anger overwhelmed me, telling me to cool off and listen to the breeze.
She was a fool. Just like my brother.
They believed I could change. But the mark I bear tells a different story. This war would only confirm that.
And strangely, I didn't feel guilty.
As I walked deeper through the garden in a large clearing, I caught sight of something strange.
Nicholas stood ahead, reaching toward a blooming rose.
The moment his hand grazed it, the petals withered and turned black.
It crumbled into ash in an instant.
And yet, he smiled.
"It's wonderful, isn't it, sister?" he said without turning. "My terrible curse."
He began to cough, his breath rattling through ruffled clothes, beneath cursed skin, from within a sickly frame.
My little brother was kind, in his own way. He cherished life, even if he'd never admit it.
"That darkness in your eyes," I said, crouching beside him, "I find it fulfilling."
He gave me an oddly warm smile. "You know, if you wanted to train with me, all you had to do was ask."
"I think I'll leave that to Mirabel. She's far better at teaching than I am."
He scoffed. "Her methods consist of beating me until I adapt."
"It seems to be working. You've grown stronger, little brother."
"Stronger… yes, I suppose I have. Considering my predicament, I've grown very strong."
His gaze drifted back to the roses.
"Tell me, sister… Do you want to see the impossible?"
His eyes shifted slightly, then he reached for a rose. To my surprise, it didn't wilt, at least, not immediately.
He held it out to me. But just before I could take it, the petals began to decay in my hands, crumbling away.
As the flower withered into dust, Nicholas laughed. "I feel an ominous presence watching over us."
That laugh, tinged with something else, something deeper, made it clear.
My little brother was preparing for something.
The day neared its end. The clouds above had yet to part.
He stood, drawing his sword. Wrapped in white bandages, it might appear harmless at first glance… but the aura it gave off was deep and potent.
"Sister, do you care to spar?"
I looked up and smiled. "Nicholas… you really are so very deceitful."
I rose and drew the sword at my side.
"I'll take that as a yes." He said as mana poured from his limbs.
He stepped back slowly, raising his blade. His voice grew cold. "You desecrated their funeral by committing a cardinal sin."
I didn't move.
He stared at me, something sharper than his sword buried in his gaze. "You raised your weapon with jealousy, not grief."
His pale eyes everlasting began to pierced past the walls I had built. "You made that ceremony about your guilt, not their rest."
I poured mana into my blade and chuckled softly. "My sins still bore into my skin."
He smiled. Not with warmth, but with a twisted kind of understanding.
His mana spilled out fully, drowning the garden in pressure. All the roses, all the plants, each leaf withered and died.
My skin tingled. My eyes watered. I felt my soul brush against despair.
I had always found my little brother strange. He was kind. He cherished life.
But his power spoke of nothing but death, of bitterness, of something cruel and ancient.
As his blade moved, I looked into his eyes. I saw it, worry, contemplation, despair.
But buried beneath it all, coexisting with the storm, was something else.
Hope.
Hope so sharp and alive that it forced my blade to swing.
Our swords clashed. His knees buckled.
I pushed him back until he stumbled, bracing himself against a hedge. He steadied, his stance adjusting.
My smile faded, but I forced the words out anyway.
"You know, Nicholas... I'm quite jealous of you."