The question hung in the air like a blade.
Cel's breath stopped.
His mind went blank - then exploded.
She knew.
Silent Moon materialized in his grip before conscious thought caught up. Four phases ignited along the blade as his body moved on pure instinct, cutting toward her throat in a strike meant to kill.
Hestia's weapon appeared instantly, intercepting his attack with a sharp ring of steel. Her eyes went wide - not with fear, but shock.
Then they hardened.
Her longsword redirected his blade with brutal efficiency. She spun away, creating distance, settling into a combat stance.
Cel pressed forward, each strike powered by the full weight of his divinely enhanced strength.
The impact of their blades meeting sent shockwaves through the training ground. Hestia's arms trembled from the force, her boots skidding backward across packed earth.
She'd never felt this from him before. The true weight behind his attacks.
Her crimson eyes blazed with focus as she adjusted her stance, blade rising to meet his next strike.
He came at her like a beast - wild, uncontrolled, full of openings any skilled fighter could exploit.
But the sheer power behind each blow made exploitation impossible.
Hestia deflected a horizontal slash and pivoted, attempting to circle into his blind spot.
Cel turned with her instantly. Silent Moon traced patterns meant to overwhelm through pure aggression, each strike flowing into the next without losing pace.
Hestia's superior technique kept her alive. She redirected rather than blocked, deflected rather than met his strikes head-on. Her footwork carried her through angles that should have been impossible, blade weaving defensive patterns that turned aside attacks meant to break bone.
Still, she was losing ground.
Each deflection cost her. Each redirection pushed her closer to the edge of her capabilities. Against anyone else, her skill would have been enough.
But against this - against the full weight of a divinely forged body with nothing held back - it wasn't.
A wild overhead strike came down with enough force to split stone. She caught it on her crossguard and the impact drove her to one knee.
Cel's boot lashed out, catching her in the ribs.
The kick sent her sprawling. She crashed into the dirt, gasping, vision blurring.
Silent Moon descended in an arc.
Hestia's longsword met it at an angle, barely redirecting the blow past her shoulder. The edge sliced through strands of black hair - several locks drifted to the ground, severed clean.
She spun inside his guard, blade rising toward his exposed side—
His hand shot out.
Fingers closed on her wrist, already blooming with frost.
The world shattered.
A boy lay broken on ash-covered ground.
Brown hair matted with blood and gray dust. His torso torn open - massive gouges where claws had ripped through flesh and bone. One arm bent at an impossible angle. His face turned skyward, eyes glazed and unseeing.
Blood pooled beneath him in dark streams, soaking into the ash. His chest rose and fell in shallow, desperate gasps that accomplished nothing. Each breath bubbled wet through punctured lungs.
The boy's lips moved soundlessly, forming words no one would hear. His fingers twitched once against the ground, grasping for something that wasn't there.
Then went still.
Death came quietly in that desolate place. Without ceremony. Without witness.
Just a broken body bleeding into ash.
The vision released them.
Cel staggered backward, hand falling away from Hestia's wrist. His breathing came harsh and rapid, mind reeling from what he'd just witnessed.
'That… was me.'
His death in the Ashlands. The moment after the creature had torn him apart. Before the trial. Before resurrection.
But how—why—
Hestia stood motionless, eyes wide and uncomprehending. Her blade trembled in her grip. She stared at Cel like she'd never seen him before.
Then her expression shifted.
Horror gave way to something colder. Harder.
Her longsword came up, the crimson blade catching moonlight.
"Vile Demon."
The word fell between them like a stone.
Cel's grip tightened on Silent Moon. His mind still churned with confusion.
But it didn't matter.
She knew something. Had seen something.
And she had to die for it.
He moved.
Hestia met him without hesitation.
Her blade moved with lethal precision, each movement flowing seamlessly into the next.
Cel barely managed to raise Silent Moon in time.
Her blade came in low, then high, then from an angle that should have been impossible. A three-strike combination executed in rapid succession.
Cel deflected the first two through pure instinct. The third slipped past his guard and opened a line across his shoulder.
Blood welled up, dark against his skin.
Hestia pressed forward with renewed aggression, certainty burning cold in her eyes.
Cel's blade caught hers in a bind, forcing them face to face for a heartbeat.
Then she broke free with a twist that nearly tore Silent Moon from his grip. Her follow-up strike came for his throat—
Cel threw himself sideways, the blade missing by inches.
They circled each other now, both breathing hard. Blood dripped from Cel's shoulder. Black hair clung to Hestia's neck where his blade had cut it short.
Neither spoke.
Just two people trying to kill each other beneath the indifferent moon.
Cel moved first this time.
Raw strength met perfect technique in a clash that sent tremors through the training ground.
Hestia's blade wove patterns meant exploit openings. Cel's strikes tried to overwhelm through sheer force.
The gap between them had closed. Not in skill or strength - that remained as vast as ever - but in intent.
Cel feinted left, then thrusted Silent Moon toward her heart with everything he had. The strike was meant to punch through ribs, to pierce lung and ventricle.
Hestia read the feint. Her longsword came up not to deflect but to counter - blade aimed at the exposed flesh of his neck.
Silent Moon's edge found fabric at her chest. Her crimson blade touched skin at his throat.
Lightning struck between them.
The bolt hit the ground with deafening thunder, pure white light searing across Cel's vision. The shockwave threw both of them backward like dolls.
Cel hit the earth hard enough to crater it. His bones rattled. His ears rang. Silent Moon skittered away across packed dirt.
Through blurred vision, he saw Hestia sprawled several steps away, her weapon fallen from nerveless fingers.
A figure stood in the smoking crater where the lightning had struck.
Esrin.
Her ash-white hair stirred in wind that came from nowhere. Ruby eyes blazed with cold fury. Her glaive's blade drove into the earth between them, the weapon's length crackling with residual energy.
"What do you think you're doing?" Esrin's voice cut through the ringing in Cel's ears like a blade.
Neither of them answered immediately. Cel pushed himself to his feet, ribs protesting. Hestia rose more slowly, her crimson eyes never leaving Esrin's face.
"Lady Esrin." Hestia's voice came formal, controlled despite the violence moments before. "Forgive the disturbance. I discovered something during our sparring - this student is not what he appears. He's a demon."
The certainty in her tone left no room for doubt.
Esrin's expression didn't shift. "You're wrong."
Hestia's composure cracked slightly.
"I can assure you - he is human."
"Lady Esrin, I assure you, my trait—" Hestia began, urgency creeping into her measured tone.
"I don't care what your trait showed you." Esrin's voice carried absolute authority. "What I care about is that you just attempted to kill a fellow student based on an assumption."
Hestia went very still.
"Return to your dormitory," Esrin continued. "And reflect on what you did."
For a long moment, Hestia didn't move. Her crimson eyes remained fixed on Cel, searching for something - truth, deception, confirmation of her fears.
Then she dismissed her artifact into darkness and gave Esrin a deep, formal bow. "As you command, Lady Esrin."
Without another word, she turned and walked away, her steps steady despite the violence that had just occurred.
Cel watched her go, chest tight with emotions he couldn't name. Relief. Confusion. Residual fear.
When she disappeared around a corner, Esrin's attention shifted to him fully.
The weight of her gaze made him want to step backward.
"As for you…"
Cel's throat worked. "I—"
"Your task was to observe. To protect the other students if necessary." Her ruby eyes narrowed. "Not to fight them."
"It just happened," Cel said. The excuse sounded weak even to his own ears. "I didn't mean—"
"You didn't mean to attack her with lethal intent?" Esrin's tone could have frozen water. "Because that's what I witnessed."
Cel's hands curled into fists at his sides. He forced them to relax.
"I'm sorry." The words came quiet. Genuine.
"We voted to recruit you. That doesn't mean you're immune to consequences." Her voice dropped, carrying absolute certainty. "Step out of line again, and we won't bother voting. Are we clear?"
Cel's breath caught. "Yes."
Esrin studied him for a long moment, expression unreadable.
Then she sighed - a sound so subtle he almost missed it.
Cel's gaze drifted toward where Hestia had disappeared.
"What did she mean?" he asked. "About demons. What are they?"
Esrin opened her mouth to answer—
Then her head snapped sideways.
The movement was so sudden, so complete, that Cel's breath caught. Every line of her body had gone tense, focused on something he couldn't perceive.
"What—"
A bell tolled.
Deep. Resonant. The sound rolled across the Academy grounds from somewhere in the city.
Once. Twice. Three times.
Cel's brow furrowed. "What is that?"
"A good opportunity." White wings erupted from her back in an explosion of light and feathers. Her hand closed on the back of his collar. "You're coming with me."
"What opportun—"
Then the world lurched.
Wind screamed past his ears. The training ground was gone - replaced by open sky stretching in every direction.
Esrin held him like a cat - one hand gripping his collar, his entire body dangling uselessly in her grasp.
Terror flooded through him in cold waves.
'Too high too high too high—'
His hands scrabbled for purchase against her arm, finding nothing. Below, the Academy had already shrunk to toy-size. The capital sprawled out in every direction, lights twinkling like distant stars.
Esrin ignored him completely. Her ruby eyes scanned the landscape ahead with clinical precision, tracking something he couldn't see.
"There."
She banked sharply. Cel's body swung out from the momentum, gravity trying its best to claim him.
He was going to die. Going to fall. Going to—
Impact.
Cel hit the ground, legs giving out immediately. He sprawled face-first across dirt, chest heaving, heart trying to hammer its way through his ribs.
Solid ground. Beautiful, wonderful, stable ground.
Slowly - so slowly - his breathing steadied. His vision stopped swimming. He pushed himself upright on shaking arms.
And froze.
Reality had split open ahead of him - a wound hanging in the air above empty ground.
A rift.