Seraphina sat in her candlelit room, hands folded over the velvet journal that held her revenge plans. Her fingers brushed the edge of the silver ring her father gave her—the secret heir's signet.
Everything was moving faster than she expected.
The man in black had a name now.
"No name," he'd said.
Which meant he wasn't just reborn like her—he was never meant to exist.
---
She closed the journal and stood. The time for watching was over.
It was time to act.
---
By midnight, she had slipped out of the dormitories and made her way through the servants' tunnels. Her first target wasn't Kael. Or Kassandra.
It was someone they trusted.
The Royal Alchemist's apprentice—Wendell Blyth—currently enrolled at the Academy as a "guest scholar."
He was the one who mixed the early poisons in her father's tea. The one who thought he was safe in his shadows.
Tonight, he would learn otherwise.
---
She reached the alchemy tower and picked the lock with a pin tucked into her braid. Inside, the room smelled of smoke and metal. Glass jars lined the shelves, filled with powders and glowing liquid.
Wendell was snoring at his desk.
She moved silently. Found the drawer marked with the alchemical rune for memory binding.
Inside, a bottle of clear silver fluid pulsed softly.
This was it.
The key to wiping or preserving memory. The very thing they used in her old life to erase guilt.
She slipped the bottle into her pocket.
Then, she uncorked another vial—one filled with blackroot essence, a substance that caused hallucinations and nightmares.
She poured it into Wendell's tea cup and whispered, "Let your mind see every soul you helped destroy."
He stirred faintly in his sleep, murmuring nonsense.
She leaned down and whispered in his ear, voice like silk-wrapped steel.
> "I remember what you did."
Then she vanished back into the tunnels.
---
The next morning, the academy buzzed with rumors.
Wendell had collapsed during breakfast. Raving. Screaming about flames, blood, and a girl with silver hair standing in his fire.
They called it a breakdown.
Seraphina just called it justice.
And far across the courtyard, standing beneath the willow tree, the nameless man watched her again.
This time, he smiled.
She didn't smile back.
This was war.