The silence that came after Seris's departure was heavy. The soft creak of the wooden door closing behind her produced an echo that felt too long, too deep. Lucifer stood still for one short moment. His arms folded, eyes in doubt as if the universe itself had been forgotten standing there.
Then Caelyra Emberholt, Vagrant Moon Tribe Saintess, extended her hand with all the dignity of the born-to-quiet-storms. "Tea?" she asked, voice smooth but gentle like a harp string plucked under an awning of rain.
Lucifer blinked, and he could feel that the room had changed since he entered. The beast training room, where growls and snarls were the norm, was now serene and like a grove of herbs. Herbs hung from the rafters, releasing a gentle odor that soothed the senses. The cages and rune patterns glowed gently with magical energy, illuminating the room with hues of amber and green. There was a small table between them, where steam rose from two cups of leaf-brewed tea.
Caelyra filled one for herself and offered the other to him. "It's from my people," she whispered. "Moonleaf blend. It calms the heart, clears the mind."
Lucifer accepted it in silence. Their fingers brushed briefly. Her hand was warm, delicate, pulsing gently with mana. He sipped, the taste delicately sweet, with a touch of rain-soaked earth and wild forest air.
"I'm Caelyra Emberholt," she began formally, folding her hands in her lap. "Saintess of the Vagrant Moon Tribe… and, I suppose, now your fiancée."
A crisp, humorless laugh from Lucifer. "Lucifer Ashenford," he said, laying the cup aside. " Am unremarkable magus, and, apparently, the heir of the Valkarion as much as I despise."
Her jade-green eyes regarded him with serene interest. "You don't appear to be concerned about it."
"I'm not," he admitted, a small smile twitching on his lips. "Just curious why someone like you would do it."
She leaned in closer. "Someone like me?"
Lucifer gestured vaguely. "A Saintess. With Holy bloodline, divine grace; why would you commit yourself to a man with the sort of situation that I have? Half the academy thinks I'm cursed, the other half thinks I'm deadly. Apparently, I am engaged. You should have made a fit with you grandfather."
For an instant, her expression didn't shift. And then she smiled so softly, almost sadly. "It wasn't as if I had a choice. But so did you, didn't you?"
He gazed at her. For the first time, he caught a glimpse behind her serenity. A pain, a quiet rebelliousness that didn't belong to her holy mask.
"In Atherra," she continued, her voice resolute but tinged with conviction, "power decides everything. The powerful decide, the powerless obey. That's the truth. You need to obey no matter what."
Lucifer said nothing.
Caelyra sipped her tea, and then gazed into the liquid face as if she beheld another world in it. "When a woman becomes strong, she is respected. But when a man becomes strong enough to tip the balance. the world adjusts. Strong men get to decide whom they love. Strong women," her eyes softened ever so slightly "Don't."
Her words struck home more sharply than he had expected. Lucifer's face tightened. He wished to argue, to reject it, to dispute it. Nut the severity of truth in her words silenced him.
She looked up, the glint of her soft mana lighting a sparkle in her eyes. "So when you want to know how I can accept someone like you. keep in mind it's partly your fault."
"My fault?" he said, surprised.
Yes," she said, inclining forward. "Because power creates destiny. The moment you chose to ascend higher, you drew others with you into your orbit. Whether you liked it or not. Even me."
Lucifer reclined, watching her. There was no malice in her tone, only silent resignation. The kind that came from one who had given up on equality long ago.
For a moment, the only sound was the soft buzz of runic arrays and the distant rustling of beasts beyond the walls. Then Caelyra's expression softened again.
"I blame no one," she said quietly. "If I am to be married to anyone, then I pray that he is a match for the sky itself. The man that I sacrificed my freedom to should be strongest under the sky of Atherra and Haven Cluster."
Her voice rang with the hush of soft thunder. Lucifer gazed down, the vapor from his cup rising between them.
"You speak as if you've already accepted everything," he breathed.
"I have," she said. "The forest teaches us about acceptance. The moon teaches us about patience. But neither teach weakness."
Lucifer smiled gently, though it never reached his eyes. "Then I suppose I'll have to meet your expectations."
"You are not supposed to," she replied curtly. "But you'll have to."
That conversation hung in the air between them.
The soft glow of the mana lights wavered, giving way to the golden light of sunset through the magic windows. Lucifer at last perceived her, for the first time her narrow slope of shoulders, the peaceful dominance in her aura, the faint gleam of divine favor about her form. She was not human in aspect; she was something holy, something distant, like a breathing prayer carved from moonlight.
He knew suddenly why her people called her Saintess.
"I'll not forget," he breathed.
She gazed up at him, her eyes meeting his. "You should. Yhe moment you do, this world will devour you and anyone who follows you."
Lucifer smiled gamely, the type that conceals exhaustion. "Then I'll have to devour it first."
Caelyra's lips pursed slightly, near approval. "Good."
The two of them sat once more in silence, the cups were half full, mana lamps flickering. The air between them wasn't tense anymore. It was heavy with a silent understanding.
When Lucifer did rise, the warm light trapped in his eyes; half shadow, half blaze. Caelyra watched him without so much as a quiver, her expression unreadable.
Outside, the creatures howled softly, as if reciting something from another time.
And as the silence ended between them, the saintess and the academy's shadow shared a mutual unspoken thought that neither one could afford to lose.