Belle Ardent
Silence fell over the training room like a wet blanket.
The air had stilled and fragments of white mana drifted through the training room like dust caught in light, fading slowly into nothing.
Belle let out a slow breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Her hand was still half-raised, faint traces of Vespera lingering around her fingertips. The word she'd spoken - die - still resonated faintly in her bones, like an echo that refused to fade.
Time had obeyed her, as it always did. The wound, the blood, the ruined flesh, it had all unraveled, rewritten, erased.Sebastian lay on the cold marble floor, whole again, but motionless.
She lowered herself beside him, the weight of what had just happened settling in. His chest rose and fell unevenly. Sweat slicked his temples. His fingers twitched occasionally, as if he were still trying to hold that last fragment of mana.
Belle rested her hand on the ground beside him, feeling for what was left in the air. Mana always left residue, an aftertaste, a signature.
This one was unmistakable.
Cold.Heavy.Still.
Her brow furrowed. "That wasn't what I expected," she whispered to herself. "That was…"
The word formed in her mind before she said it aloud.
Death.
She closed her eyes, remembering the moment it bloomed inside him, the way the air had thickened, the sudden drop in temperature, the oppressive pressure that made people's skin crawl. It hadn't been raw destruction; it was absence. A hollowing force that devoured what it touched.
Belle's fingers brushed lightly against his forearm. She could still feel the faint hum beneath his skin, like something sleeping restlessly inside him. Not gone. Just dormant.
For the first time in a long while, genuine unease threaded through her voice. She wasn't airheaded now, none of the usual teasing and lazy indifference she often wore like armor. Just quiet, thoughtful focus.
She flexed her fingers absently. A faint ache pulsed along her wrist, a whisper of strain beneath the skin.
After killing time so many times in such a short span, the fatigue was finally catching up to her. Nothing serious, just a slight heaviness behind her eyes, a reminder that even her power demanded a price.
Her mind drifted, inevitably, to her brother.
It made sense now. Her brother's sudden insistence that she take this boy as a student. His cryptic tone when she'd asked why him? The way he'd smiled, just a little too knowingly.
But now…
Belle sat back slowly, eyes narrowing. A small, humorless laugh slipped from her lips.
Belle's gaze softened slightly as she looked at Sebastian again. He looked young when he wasn't bragging about his face. Peaceful, even. His hair clung damply to his forehead, his breath still shallow but steady.
She reached out and brushed his bangs aside, studying his face for a moment.
"You're reckless," she murmured. "Arrogant, stubborn, and absolutely hopeless at listening."
Her fingers hovered just above his skin, where faint traces of dark mana still pulsed, dim and deep. "But you did it, didn't you? You actually turned pure mana into death without dying."
Belle smiled faintly, a small curve of admiration breaking through her worry. "You really are something else."
For a long moment, she just sat there beside him, the hum of mana fading into the distance. The training hall was quiet again, only the slow rhythm of his breathing and the soft flicker of light from the shattered lamps above.
Her voice broke the silence, low but carrying a quiet warmth.
"You're honestly so stupid," she said with a sigh, the corner of her mouth lifting.
But her eyes stayed on him, and she didn't move away.
Sebastian Nekros
The morning sunlight spilled through the curtains, warm and golden. I blinked against it, feeling the soft weight of the blanket around me, the faint scent of bread and honey drifting up from the kitchen.
Liana must've been baking again.
I sat up, stretching. Another quiet day in the liviana estate.
It wasn't large nothing like the marble palaces of the high lords, but the ivy-covered walls and the garden overlooking the valley made it feel alive. Home.
"Still pretending you're asleep?"
Her voice carried from the doorway, teasing as always.
I turned and grinned. "I was trying to see if breakfast in bed still works if I don't move."
She rolled her eyes, but her smile betrayed her. "You'd starve before I fell for that again."
"You say that," I said, "but here you are with a tray."
"Habit." She set it down beside me fresh bread, jam, and tea that smelled faintly of mint.
We ate together, talking about nothing in particular, the garden, the weather, the visiting merchants. Every word came easy, every silence warm.
By afternoon, I was in the courtyard, repairing one of the wooden fences while she sat under the oak tree, sketching. The wind carried her laughter as she teased me about my uneven handiwork.
Peaceful. Too peaceful, maybe.
That thought passed through me like a whisper fleeting, unwelcome. I brushed it off and kept working.
But then, as the sun dipped lower, I noticed the servants whispering to one another near the gate. One of them looked pale. When I asked what was wrong, she only shook her head and hurried off.
By dinner, the tension lingered. The house was quieter than usual.
We sat across from each other, lamplight flickering over the table. The stew was over-salted again. She teased me for it, and I tried to smile back, but the unease in my chest wouldn't fade.
Then a sound, faint but wrong. Metal striking metal. Somewhere outside.
Liana glanced toward the window. "What was that?"
"Probably nothing," I said automatically. But I was already standing.
Another sound followed. A shout. Then two. Then dozens.
The doors shook.
"Stay here," I said, already moving. "I'll go see—"
The wall nearest the hall shattered inward, a roaring explosion of fire and smoke. The shockwave knocked me off my feet, dishes clattering across the floor.
Liana screamed.
Flames licked across the curtains. Figures poured through the broken entry, armored men, blades drawn, faces hidden behind steel.
"Get behind me!" I grabbed the dagger from my belt. My hands trembled, but I stood between them and her anyway.
One man rushed forward. I met him halfway, slamming the blade into the gap beneath his arm. He fell. Another took his place. I cut, dodged, barely keeping them from reaching her.
Then pain, white-hot and sharp, as a sword grazed my side. I staggered.
"Liana, run!"
She didn't. She was reaching for me when the spear came through the smoke, straight into her chest.
Time slowed.
Her eyes went wide, confusion flickering there before fading into shock. Blood spilled across her dress as she collapsed into my arms.
"Liana...no, please, stay with me—" I pressed my hands against the wound, but it was too deep. Too much.
Her lips moved. I leaned closer.
"You… always… put too much salt…"
Her voice broke apart into silence.
Something in me cracked.
I screamed her name, over and over, as if the sound could pull her back.
The men surrounded me. I didn't care. I lunged at them, cut one, then another, until a sword slid cleanly through my back.
The world tilted. My strength left me all at once.
I fell beside her, blood pooling beneath us both. The ceiling burned. The air choked. I reached for her one last time. My fingers brushed hers, still warm.
Then everything went dark.
---
I gasped awake, choking on air that wasn't smoke.
The room was cold. Quiet.
My heart hammered. My hands were whole, no blood, no fire, no wife.
But her name lingered on my tongue.
Liana.
And for a moment, I didn't know who I was.
Then the name came unbidden, echoing in my mind like an old scar reopening.
Sebastian.