LYRRISE'S POV....
The air between us grew heavier by the second. I could still feel the trace of Cyril's lips brushing the back of my hand, and it sent an uneasy tremor down my spine. Not from comfort, but from the sheer force of his presence.
His voice broke through the silence, deep and commanding.
"Cut ties with them, Lyrrise. Rael. Lior. Whatever they are, whatever excuses they've fed you—they're dangerous. You don't need them."
My breath hitched, and anger flared in my chest. "You don't understand—"
"No. You don't understand," Cyril snapped, closing the distance until my back was almost pressed against the cold wall. His crimson eyes burned like fire, unyielding. "If you keep them close, it'll only destroy you. And I won't let that happen."
The words struck me like blades. They weren't a request—they were an order.
I clenched my fists until my nails dug into my palms. "You think you're protecting me, but you're wrong. They're not what you think they are…"
His jaw tightened, his voice lowering but still carrying the weight of iron.
"Then let me be the one to stand beside you. Not them. Me."
The tension in the air was suffocating. Cyril's words lingered, heavy like chains I couldn't break free from. His crimson eyes were steady on mine, waiting for my answer, waiting for me to bend.
I lowered my gaze, exhaling a long, shaky sigh. My chest ached—not from fear, but from the weight of everything pressing down on me.
"I'm not leaving Rael or Lior behind," I said quietly, forcing my voice to stay even. "But…" I raised my eyes to meet his again, "…I also won't say no to you. Not yet."
Cyril's brows furrowed, confusion flashing in his expression.
"I'll decide," I continued, my fingers tightening around the hilt of my blood-formed katana. "When the time comes. When I see with my own eyes if you truly can fight beside me. Until then… don't force me to choose."
For the first time, Cyril's grip on me loosened. His hand slipped away from my arm, his stoic mask cracking just slightly as though he wasn't sure if I was rejecting him—or keeping him close.
——
The sun filtered weakly through the academy windows, painting the training hall in pale light. My team was already moving with sharp precision—Mathilda's strikes cutting through the air, Jace shouting encouragement, Green Eye loosing arrows at targets without a single miss. Everyone was focused. Everyone except me.
I held my stance, katana raised, but my arms felt heavier than usual. My movements lacked rhythm, each slash clumsy, each step dragging.
"Lyrrise, your form's off," Jace called out, concern hiding behind his usual sharp tone.
I just gave a nod, pretending I hadn't noticed. But deep down, I knew they all could tell—my energy wasn't here. My heart wasn't here.
Every swing of my blade brought me back to last night. Cyril's piercing gaze. His hand trapping me against the wall. His words that dug too deep, and the doubt that now sat like a stone inside my chest.
"Focus, Lyrrise!" Mathilda's voice cut in, sharper this time. "Where's your fire? You're usually leading us, not dragging behind."
I clenched my jaw. They were right. But no matter how much I tried to steady myself, the weight of my secret—the truth about Aralin, about Rael, about everything—was draining me more than the training itself.
For the first time since I joined this team… I felt like I was the weak link.
——
I wiped the sweat from my forehead, staring down at my trembling hands. My breath came uneven, not from the training—but from the storm in my head.
"Here," a voice broke through my thoughts.
I glanced up. Deyon Kaelric stood in front of me, his usual easy grin tugging at his lips. He held out an energy drink, condensation dripping down the can. His crop top clung to him, showing off toned arms and defined abs like he didn't have a care in the world.
I blinked, taking the drink from him. "You really… like crop tops, huh? Even though you're not a girl."
Deyon chuckled, running a hand through his messy hair. "Of course. Why wouldn't I? Clothes don't define who you are. They're just… threads. What matters is how you feel wearing them."
His words caught me off guard. I looked at him more closely—how unbothered he seemed by others' opinions, how free he carried himself.
"You don't care what people think?" I asked quietly.
"Nope," he replied with a wink. "People will always judge, Lyrrise. But if I waste my life trying to fit into their mold, I'd never get to be me. So I wear what makes me comfortable, and I fight the way I want to fight. Isn't that what living is?"
I stared at the ground, his words echoing inside me. Isn't that what living is?
It hit deeper than I expected. Maybe I'd been too focused on what others would think—about my blood, my powers, my identity. Maybe I'd been too afraid of being seen as different, when in reality… I already was.
For the first time in hours, I let out a small laugh. "You're ridiculous, Deyon."
"Ridiculous, but right," he said with a playful grin.
And as I sipped the drink, I realized—maybe being extraordinary wasn't something to fear. Maybe it was just… part of me.
I was halfway through the energy drink when a shadow fell across me.
"Here."
Kaelenna Vey crouched down beside me, her long braid swinging forward as she placed a neatly wrapped sandwich into my hand. She crossed her arms, her sharp gaze studying me like she could see every ounce of fatigue I carried.
"You should build up your energy," she said matter-of-factly. "Next time, I don't want to see you looking so lousy during training."
I forced a small smile, unwrapping the sandwich. "Thanks. I'll try harder."
Her brow furrowed. "That's not what I meant."
I looked away, biting into the sandwich just to avoid her eyes. The bread was soft, the filling flavorful, but it didn't erase the heaviness pressing down on me.
Kaelenna sighed, sitting down beside me. "You're drained, Lyrrise. And not just physically. I can tell."
I shook my head quickly. "No, I'm fine. Really. I just need to… push through."
But even as I said it, the words tasted like lies.
"You keep saying that," Kaelenna muttered. Her voice softened, though it still carried its usual firmness. "You don't have to push through everything alone. You're allowed to be tired. You're allowed to feel lost. That doesn't make you weak."
Her words lingered like a stubborn echo. I wanted to believe her, but deep inside, something twisted. I wasn't allowed to break. Not when everyone expected me to be strong. Not when the blood moon kept pulling me toward something darker.
So I laughed lightly, shaking my head. "You're overthinking it, Kaelenna. I'll be fine."
She gave me a long look, one that made me feel like she saw right through me. Then, without another word, she patted my shoulder and stood.
As she walked away, her words kept circling in my chest. You're allowed to be tired.
But no matter how much I wanted to believe her… part of me still couldn't.
I was still holding the half-eaten sandwich Kaelenna had given me when another familiar voice chimed in.
"Guess I'm late to the kindness contest."
Soryn Halvine strolled over, his usual calm smile easing something tight in my chest. Without asking, he set down another sandwich beside me—this one wrapped in parchment with his neat handwriting on the outside: For Lyrrise.
I blinked. "Soryn… you too?"
He shrugged lightly. "You looked like you needed it. Food helps more than words sometimes."
I let out a small laugh, though it came out more fragile than I intended. "At this rate, I'm going to be buried under sandwiches."
"Better sandwiches than exhaustion," Soryn replied gently. His voice carried no judgment, only quiet reassurance, and it made my throat ache.
Before I could say anything more, the air shifted. Heavy. Familiar.
I didn't have to look up to know who it was.
Cyril.
He walked in from the other side of the courtyard, his expression unreadable as always, though his eyes flickered briefly toward me. For just a heartbeat, I thought I saw something soften there… but it was gone as quickly as it appeared.
And just like that—the team was complete.
Kaelenna, Soryn, Deyon… and Cyril. All here, gathered around me, whether by chance or something more.
I stared down at the sandwich in my hands, heat rising behind my eyes. For a moment, I felt like maybe I wasn't carrying everything alone. But the weight of secrets—of Aralin, of what I was—still pressed hard against my ribs.
I forced myself to smile at them. "Thank you… all of you."
Even if part of me still wondered how much longer I could keep pretending.
The room was still, lit only by the faint red glow of Dris seeping through the window. I sat on the edge of my bed, knees drawn close, replaying the day in my mind.
Deyon's easy grin.
Kaelenna's sharp but caring words.
Soryn's calm reassurance.
And Cyril… watching me silently, always too close, yet too far.
I thought about the way they had all shown up, one after another, like pieces falling into place. Maybe it wasn't coincidence. Maybe it was something more.
For so long, I told myself I had to fight alone. That no one else could carry the weight of who I was, of what I carried inside. But earlier today… surrounded by them… it felt different. Safer.
I leaned back against the wall, covering my face with my hands.
"Maybe Cyril was right," I whispered into the quiet. "I can't do this alone… I need them. All of them."
The words tasted foreign, but true.
I looked at my bloodstained hands—hands that could destroy, but maybe also protect—and clenched them into fists.
If I was going to face Aralin… if I was going to protect everyone I loved… then I wouldn't push my team away anymore.
For the first time in a long time, I felt something close to hope.
The air outside the walls was heavy, thick with the stench of Riftborns. The alarm had already blared through the academy—another Dris, another night of blood. But this time, it wasn't just me running ahead. This time, I wasn't alone.
We had a formation.
Kaelenna stood back, eyes sharp, her hands glowing faint green as healing magic pulsed through her palms. Deyon adjusted his gauntlets, grinning like the reckless tank he was, already prepared to be the bait. Soryn knelt low on the ridge, bow string drawn, her sharp gaze never leaving the movements of the Riftborns.
And then there was Cyril—beside me. Our shadows moving as one, our blades drawn. Assassins. The ones who struck fast, clean, and without hesitation.
Deyon charged first, slamming into the ground and drawing the Riftborns' attention with a booming laugh. The monsters shrieked and lunged toward him, claws out, but Kaelenna's healing light wrapped around his frame, keeping him on his feet.
"Now!" Cyril hissed.
We darted forward at the same time—two shadows weaving in and out of the chaos. My blood-forged katana sliced through Riftborn flesh, crimson spraying across the dirt. Cyril's blade found its mark on another, his movements sharp, merciless. For a moment, I could almost forget the tension between us. In battle, we were perfectly in sync.
Above, Soryn's arrows cut through the night, striking Riftborns in their weak spots. Each shot precise, deadly.
Deyon laughed again as claws raked his arm, but he didn't falter. He was the shield, the wall that kept us all alive.
We weren't just surviving.
We were fighting as one.
And for the first time, I realized—this was what it meant to have a team. To trust. To know that no matter what, I wasn't the only one carrying the weight anymore.
The battlefield finally fell silent. The Riftborns lay scattered across the dirt, their bodies dissolving into ash under the faint glow of the blood moon. My breath came in sharp bursts, sweat sliding down my forehead. I tightened my grip on my katana, but it was over.
I looked around.
Deyon stood tall, his arm bleeding, but he laughed anyway, brushing it off like the wound was nothing. Kaelenna scolded him under her breath, her healing light already knitting the gash shut. Soryn lowered her bow, calm as ever, but I caught the way her eyes softened as she checked on everyone before herself.
And Cyril… he was beside me, his blade sheathed, his eyes scanning my face like he wanted to say something but couldn't.
For a long time, I just stood there, staring at them.
We won because we fought together.
If I had gone alone, I would've been reckless, letting my anger and fear consume me. But with them—Kaelenna healing, Deyon shielding, Soryn watching every step, Cyril moving with me—I wasn't devoured by my power. I was grounded.
I swallowed hard.
Maybe Cyril was right. I can't do this alone. I don't want to.
For so long, I believed strength meant carrying everything myself. That if I shouldered the pain, the secrets, the battles, no one else would suffer because of me. But standing here, watching them laugh, bicker, and patch each other up—I realized I was wrong.
They weren't just my teammates.
They were my shield. My strength. My proof that I wasn't alone in this fight.
And for the first time in what felt like forever, the thought of facing Aralin didn't feel so impossible.
THE NEXT DAY
It felt strange, walking through the town without the weight of my katana at my side. No alarms, no shadows of Riftborn lurking around the corners—just the soft glow of lanterns, the chatter of merchants, and the laughter of my team.
Kaelenna dragged me into a clothing shop before I could even protest. "You're always in uniform," she scolded, her eyes already sparkling as she scanned racks of fabric. "Tonight, you're going to look like a proper girl."
I groaned, but she shoved a dress into my arms anyway. "Go try it."
I sighed but gave in. When I stepped out of the fitting room, the dress flowed around me—simple, yet beautiful. It clung just enough to my figure, making me feel… different. Softer. Not like a fighter, not like an assassin—just a girl.
"Beautiful," Kaelenna said proudly, hands on her hips.
Soryn shook her head immediately. "Don't even try it. I'm never wearing one of those." She crossed her arms, but the corner of her mouth curved upward, betraying her amusement.
Then Deyon leaned against the wall, arms folded, his usual smugness plastered on his face. "Honestly, Lyrrise, a dress looks nice—but you'd look better in a crop top."
I blinked. "What?"
Before I could argue, Kaelenna shoved another outfit into my arms—this time a crop top and fitted trousers. My cheeks burned as I stepped out, tugging at the hem.
Their reactions were immediate.
Deyon whistled, grinning wide. "Told you."
Kaelenna chuckled. "It actually does look good on you."
Even Soryn let out a rare laugh, shaking her head. "Poor Lyrrise. She doesn't know what to do with herself."
I folded my arms across my chest, my face hot. "This is humiliating."
But when I caught their smiles, their laughter filling the shop, I felt something ease in my chest. Maybe it wasn't humiliating. Maybe it was just… normal.
For once, I wasn't the Eclipsed, or Aralin's daughter, or the girl burdened with power.
I was just Lyrrise, teasing and being teased by her friends.
And it felt… good.
Kaelenna wasn't done with me. After forcing me into a dress and a crop top, she carried on like a storm, sweeping through shop after shop while I trailed behind her with bags dangling from my arms. "Just one more," she kept saying.
I should've known that "one more" meant five more.
Meanwhile, Soryn had gone off and returned with ice cream in both hands. She licked hers casually, then "accidentally" bumped into Deyon, smearing a glob of melting ice cream across his crop top.
Deyon froze. He looked down at the sticky mess, then up at Soryn with a smile so sharp it could cut steel. "You did not just do that."
Soryn licked her spoon with exaggerated innocence. "Oh, I did."
Before I knew it, they were chasing each other down the street like wild children, Soryn darting between pedestrians, Deyon threatening bloody vengeance with a napkin.
Cyril, unfortunately, had chosen that exact moment to stroll past with his own ice cream cone. He got caught in the crossfire, and Soryn bumped into him hard enough that the scoop tumbled straight to the ground.
His face darkened instantly. "…You didn't."
"Oops," Soryn said, clearly not sorry.
Now Cyril was in the chaos too, glaring at Deyon and Soryn as if he'd cut them both down where they stood. Within seconds, all three of them were shouting and shoving like schoolkids who'd had too much sugar.
Kaelenna and I stood at the side, arms full of shopping bags, watching the spectacle unfold. She sighed and shook her head.
"They're like children," she muttered.
I couldn't help it—I laughed. Loud and unrestrained. Watching them bicker and fight over ice cream made me forget, just for a moment, the darkness waiting outside the walls.
For a little while, we were just… normal.
The bickering escalated until it became a full-on wrestling match in the middle of the square. Deyon lunged for Soryn, who darted behind Cyril, and somehow all three collided like badly aimed arrows.
Before I could blink, there was a splash.
They'd fallen straight into the fountain.
The water sprayed everywhere, soaking their clothes and splashing the unlucky bystanders who gasped and scurried away. Cyril's usually sharp, stoic face was twisted in absolute rage, his hair dripping into his eyes. Deyon was trying to wring out his ruined crop top, muttering curses. And Soryn… Soryn was laughing so hard she could barely stand, even though she was drenched too.
Kaelenna covered her mouth, but I could see the grin spreading beneath her hand. "Oh gods…" she whispered.
And that was it. We both burst out laughing.
My stomach hurt from how hard I laughed, tears stinging the corners of my eyes. Kaelenna leaned against me, giggling just as uncontrollably. It was ridiculous, it was childish, and it was perfect.
For a moment, it didn't matter that Riftborns existed, or that Aralin's shadow loomed over me. Right then, the only thing that existed was the sound of our laughter echoing through the town square as those three idiots flailed around in a fountain.
Later that evening, after everyone had finally dried off from the fountain disaster, we sat together beneath the lanterns of the town square. The night air was cool, the laughter still clinging to us like a gentle flame. Deyon grumbled about his ruined crop top while Soryn smirked, clearly proud of herself. Kaelenna kept teasing Cyril for being "the grumpiest drowned cat alive," and for once, even he cracked the faintest smile.
I sat back, quietly watching them all. My chest felt warm.
These people—they weren't just teammates anymore. They weren't just students I happened to train with. They felt like something more. Like siblings who bickered, teased, and sometimes drove me insane… but never let me feel alone.
For so long, I'd carried everything by myself. My powers, my secrets, my fears of what I truly was. But now, looking at them, I realized something I'd been missing all along.
I had a family here.
Not by blood. Not by destiny. But by choice.
And I wished—no, I hoped—that this would never change. That we could stay like this forever. Laughing together, eating together, fighting side by side, as if nothing in the world could ever break us apart.
For the first time in a long time, I felt… at peace.