The heavy oak door clicked shut behind me.
Silence. Just the echo in the vast, marble hallway.
For a moment, I just stood there. Mind blank. The Commandant's words still ringing in my ears.
The Apex Blade Summit.
A tournament. For seniors. And he wants me.
It was absurd. Utterly laughable.
Except… maybe it wasn't
I started walking, nearly skipping. My footsteps were unnaturally loud on the polished stone. A slow, dangerous grin spread across my face.
He's throwing me to the wolves.
What a magnificent asshole.
The thought didn't bring fear. Not even close. It hit me like a jolt, sharp, wild, exhilarating. A thrill I hadn't even known I was starving for. Suddenly, Cedric's endless nagging about "discipline" and "hard work" felt laughable. Please. I'd finally get to pit my talent against their drills, my gift against their sweat.
Good. This was exactly the kind of challenge I'd been waiting for.
Still… there was one person I had to tell. My grin faltered, giving way to a more complicated knot of feelings. I shifted my direction, veering away from my dorm and towards the outer wall's training grounds. I had to find my sister. And I had a feeling she wasn't going to be as enthused about this development as I was.
My unfinished desserts were completely forgotten.
I had to find Elara. My sister. No idea where she would be at this time of the day though. Her work kept her near the heart of the city, in the central military district. So that would be my first stop.
Now I just have to find her. I didn't actually know where her office was. Her job kept her away most of the time anyway so there was never a need for her to tell me. Or maybe that was just her way of stopping me from pestering her while she was working.
Either way, I knew the usual spots to check so I'll do that first.
After a few minutes of walking and way too many gate crossings I found myself inside of the central military district. The Citadel. My first stop here would be the Reconnaissance Corp Headquarters. She is a scout captain right? Where else could her office be?
Unlike the exceptionally gaudy marble of the Vanguard wing at the Academy, the Recon Corps building was a squat, formidable structure of dark, weathered stone. Very Utilitarian. No flair, all function. Just like the scouts it housed, I suppose. A weather frayed banner with the insignia of the reconnaissance corp, a bow and dagger crossed diagonally, hung just above the entrance.
I shoved the doors open and stepped inside. The air hit me—leather, parchment, a faint trace of oil. Not the polish of the academy. Real work happened here I suppose.
The main hall buzzed, though not with chatter. Scouts in dark, rugged gear moved like shadows, every step quiet, every glance sharp. Grim faces, carved hard by things the cadets back at Aegis only pretended to understand.
A few of them gave me passing glances as I entered. This time, the stares were different. Instead of the petty jealousy of my fellow cadets, it was instead the flicker of recognition. The black and gold of my Vanguard uniform. To them, I wasn't an anomaly; I was just a child. An officer-in-training playing dress up in an adult world.
Somehow these looks make me feel worse than the ones from my lovely, and definitely very friendly, fellow cadets.
I spotted a clerk behind a long wooden desk, mountains of paperwork flanking them on either side. I strode over to him. "Hello,"
He must not have heard me.
"Um, excuse me" I tried again, a little louder this time.
No reaction. Okay, he definitely heard me.
He just kept shuffling his papers, like I was air.
"Hellooo."
Seriously? Was he deaf or just being an ass?
The clerk didn't even glance up. Just lifted a single finger. Dismissive.
My eye twitched. Oh, you've got to be kidding me. I bit down hard on the retort burning my tongue.
Another endless moment of parchment shuffling, seriously, how important could those reports be? and he finally sighed. With exaggerated slowness, he pushed a greasy strand of hair off his forehead.
"What is it, Cadet?" Flat, tired, and still glued to the paper. Not even the courtesy of eye contact.
This fucker.
"I'm looking for Captain Elara," I said, each word careful, almost pleasant. Almost.
That finally got his attention. His eyes flicked up, trailing over my uniform. A faint smirk tugged at his lips. Knowing.
"The Captain? She's not here."
"Do you know where she is?"
He leaned back in his chair. Oh, he was waiting for that. He's enjoying this.
"Not on duty today. Said something about needing a stiff drink after her last patrol." His smirk widened, eyes glittering with that petty little power trip.
"Try The Steel Flask over in the Civilian District, if you're so desperate to find her."
And then, the cherry on top, he flicked his hand back to his papers, tone dripping with mock importance.
"Now, if you'll excuse me, some of us have actual work to do."
Actual work? Sitting on his ass shuffling parchment all day? Please.
I turned, my fists clenched. The Steel Flask? A tavern? Of course she wouldn't be in her office like a normal person. Why would anything be that simple?
This meant going back the way I came. Back through that annoying series of checkpoints that separated the Citadel from the civilian districts. Each one had its own set of grizzled faced guards who gave me the same once-over before spotting my uniform and waving me along.
The air shifted the moment I stepped into the civilian district. Gone was the ordered and suffocating atmosphere of the Citadel. Here it was noise and color, vendors shouting, the sizzle of food stalls, spices and grease in the air. Of course, there was also the less glamorous mix of sweat, smoke, and people who hadn't bathed in… a while. Whatever. I could ignore that.
The Steel Flask. I tried to picture it—probably a dingy little pit full of drunkards and brawls. Great. Just the kind of place my sister would disappear to.
Problem: I had no idea where it actually was. Why would I? I didn't exactly spend my free time mapping the taverns of the civilian district. I'd never even needed to come here. The streets twisted into alleys, storefronts looked identical, and I was already lost. Fantastic. Guess I'd have to ask.
I spotted a woman selling trinkets from a cart. Harmless enough. I stepped a little closer, but not too close. No need to intimidate the locals, I suppose.
"Excuse me," I tried, keeping my tone polite. "I'm looking for a tavern. The Steel Flask?"
Her eyes flicked down to my uniform, then back up to my face. A pause. A frown. "…You don't seem old enough to be looking for taverns."
My cheeks went hot immediately. Great. Exactly what I needed.
"Wha- no, it's not like that!" I blurted, the words tumbling out of me. "I'm not… drinking. I'm just meeting someone."
Smooth, Luna. Very convincing.
The woman raised a brow but said nothing. She just thumbed toward a nearby alley.
"End of that lane, then right at the bakery. You'll see the sign."
"Thanks," I muttered, ducking my head as I turned away.
Too young, huh? My ears still felt hot. Ugh. Why did I let her get to me? Whatever. It's not like I care what some trinket seller thinks.
The directions were spot-on. Unfortunately.
The heavy doors groaned on their hinges as they swung outward.
I stepped inside and was instantly accosted by a wall of noise, clashing smells, and flickering magic lights that barely cut through the suspicious haze. Mugs rattled. Voices slurred into one another. Boards groaned under unsteady feet. Every sense demanded attention at once. Ugh, the smell is definitely the worst part. And why is the floor sticky?
Every head swung toward me. Mud-streaked farmers, shirts the same shade as their skin. Drunken guards slouched, their eyes barely open. A few mercenaries in patched leather scanned me, suspicion flickering in the fatigue of their faces.
My uniform stood out like a blade in the gloom. A clean streak slicing through the mess.
I wove through the maze of tables, ignoring the murmurs, the stares, the half-drunk eyes. None of them mattered. Only one person did.
At the back, in a shadowed booth, she sat. Elara. Not Captain Elara, not the stern scout leader of the Recon Corps. Just Elara. Dark leather tunic, worn trousers, shoulders slumped, a single untouched glass of amber liquid in front of her. Exhaustion radiated off her like a physical weight.
I paused. She hadn't even noticed me.
Good.
I climbed onto her lap without a word. Not grown-up politeness, not pretense. Just me. Head against her worn tunic, arms tight around her waist. Solid. Warm. Real. My anchor in the chaos that was my life. For a heartbeat, I wasn't the Vanguard cadet, the prodigy, the outsider. I was a kid. Her kid.
Her body stiffened. Sharp intake of breath. Reflex, scout-trained, total instinct. Then her shoulders sagged. Recognition softened her, a long, weary exhale. One rough, familiar hand rose, landing gently on the back of my head.
"…Luna?" Her voice rasped, low and tired. "What is it? What's wrong?"
I stayed a heartbeat longer, clinging, then pulled back just enough to tilt my head up at her. I let out a long, exaggerated sigh, loud enough to register.
"The Commandant is an asshole," I muttered into the worn leather of her tunic.
That got a reaction. Elara's brow furrowed. Confusion edged out her exhaustion. "Language, Luna. What happened? What did he do?"
"He's making me do something," I said, dragging out the words, each one carefully laced with complaint. "Something… unreasonable."
Her hand reached up, tilting my chin so I had to meet her gaze. Her green eyes, sharp and commanding, searched mine."Unreasonable how? Punishment detail? Finally mouthed off to Cedric one too many times?"
"No," I shook my head, dragging the pause for effect. "He's forcing me into the Apex Blade Summit."
I waited for her to explode. For outrage, for disbelief. Instead, her face went blank.
The hand on my shoulder tightened. Just enough to hurt. The warmth I'd been holding onto vanished, replaced by sharp tension. The booth felt colder, smaller.
"What did you just say?" Her voice was quiet. Too quiet. Dangerous.
I watched her, bracing for outrage or sympathy. Instead, I got something else entirely.
The weariness in her eyes evaporated. Gone. In its place was a cold, sharp fear that made my stomach twist. Her hand, once gently caressing my shoulder, was now far harsher. Her fingers dug into me, the warmth from moments ago vanished.
Oops. Should've known she wouldn't like that.
"What," she whispered, her voice low and domineering, yet somehow her words still louder than the noisy tavern, "did you just say?"
I swallowed, the smug victory from moments ago completely gone. Her grip on my shoulder a reminder that I had miscalculated. Badly.
"Um, well," I started, my voice a little unsteady. "The Commandant... he said that the instructors thought I needed a challenge, so..." I trailed off, the words feeling stupid in my mouth now. I forced myself to finish, the statement coming out as a weak, uncertain whisper. "...he's putting me in the Apex Blade Summit."
Elara's stare locked onto mine, but it wasn't cold. It was heavy. Like she was holding something too big for her shoulders alone. Her grip loosened, and her hand slid up to my face, her thumb brushing just beneath my eye. A soft touch, like she was afraid I might break if she pressed too hard.
What is with her? It's just a competition, not a funeral march.
"The Summit…" she whispered, more to herself than to me, "all the great houses will be there. Every archmage. Every guild master. Scouts with eyes too sharp for their own good"
I rolled my eyes. "So what? Let them look. I'm not planning on losing."
Her gaze snapped back to mine, her usual iron guard completely shattered. Just raw, unguarded fear. "Luna… if they notice anything, if they even suspect…" She broke off, shaking her head. "It won't matter how strong you are. They won't see you. They'll see something to take. Or to destroy."
Great. Another cryptic lecture. Just what I needed tonight.
"Elara, you're blowing this way out of proportion." I tried for casual, leaning back in the booth like the smoke and stink didn't make my eyes water. "It's a tournament. A bunch of flashy duels, some posturing nobles, and then I walk out with the trophy. Easy."
Her thumb stilled on my cheek. She leaned in. Close.
"It's not easy. Never." Her voice wavered, low and bitter. "And the Commandant- that reckless old fool. He's gambling with your life. Thinks it's the only way you'll grow up before it's too late."
I blinked. "Grow up? That's what this is about?"
"Yes!" she snapped, and then softened immediately, as though even raising her voice risked pushing me away. "Yes, Luna. He knows how gifted you are. But power without discipline… it draws eyes. And eyes at the Summit? They could strip everything from you before you even know what you've lost."
There it is again. That tone.Like I'm some fragile porcelain doll balanced on the edge of a table.
"Elara," I said flatly, pulling away from her touch. "I don't need protecting. I need a chance to prove myself. And if the Commandant thinks the Summit is it, then fine." I met her gaze, my own hardening. "I'll win. Simple as that."
Her hand fell from my face. It curled into a fist on her knee. White-knuckled. The fear in her eyes was a wildfire now, but there was something else underneath it. Something desperate.
"Then listen to me," she said, her voice steady now, cold. "If you're going to stand on that stage, you cannot let them see what lies beneath."
She leaned closer.
"Not a flicker. Not a hint."
See what? My talent? What is she talking about?
"You'll learn to hold back. To mask it. Promise me, Luna." Her eyes bored into mine, the fear raw and overwhelming. "Promise me you'll hide."
I stared back at her. My usual smugness, the carefully polished frustration I'd been sharpening like a blade. Gone. Melted under the sheer weight of her desperation.
Hide what, exactly? My talent? My strength? What does she think is so dangerous about being good at what I do?
I didn't get it. Not really. I knew that look in her eyes. I'd seen it before. The day she'd found me, starving and alone, hidden under a sea of rubble. I don't remember much from back then but I do remember the way she looked at me, like I was the only thing left in her world worth protecting.
And right now… she had that exact same look.
Like she'd burn the whole damn world to keep me safe.
My anger? My pride? Suddenly it all felt… petty. Useless.
I reached out and wrapped my hands around hers. Her fist was so tight her knuckles were stark white.
"Sister…" I said quietly. "I promise, Okay?"
Her shoulders loosened. If only a little. A flicker of relief cracked through her mask, fragile as glass. But the relief was a fragile mask; the fear was still buried deep in her eyes.
I squeezed her hand, a little firmer, like I could anchor her.
I don't know what you're so damn afraid of, Elara. But fine. If it's for you, I'll play along, I suppose. I'll try.
And when I win, maybe then you'll see there's nothing to hide.