The morning sun slanted lazily through the tall windows of the Archlight estate, painting the polished floors in pale gold. For once, the air felt unburdened — no trials, no priests lurking in shadows, no whispers of schemes. Only the faint rustle of servants tending to the halls, and the soft clink of teacups as Shiro sat with Selene on the veranda overlooking the gardens.
He cradled his cup, still not used to the refined taste of estate blends. His sisters had darted off earlier to chase butterflies between the hedges, leaving him with Selene in a rare pocket of quiet.
She sipped daintily, eyes half-lidded, the faintest smile tugging at her lips. "You look less like a fugitive today."
"That's… supposed to be a compliment?" Shiro muttered.
"Of course." She set her cup down with a soft clink. "The shadows under your eyes are lighter, your shoulders less tense. I'd almost think you belonged here."
He frowned at her teasing, but before he could reply, Selene leaned back, tilting her head toward the gardens. "It's been far too long since I've had the chance to do something normal. You, too, I imagine."
Shiro glanced out at the hedges where Elira and Mirielle laughed. "Normal seems like a luxury these days."
Selene's eyes gleamed with sudden mischief. "Then let's reclaim it. What do you say… we go shopping?"
Shiro blinked. "Shopping? Now? You can't be serious."
"Why not?" She folded her hands under her chin, feigning innocence. "It's a bustling day in the market square. Stalls overflowing with silks, jewelry, books, sweets… You wouldn't deny me the simple joy of browsing, would you?"
He rubbed his temples. "Selene, we can't just walk into the market. Do you remember what happened the last time I stepped into a crowd?"
She waved him off. "Details. Minor details. Besides, if it makes you feel safer, we'll go at night. Under a disguise." Her grin widened. "Wouldn't it be thrilling?"
"You're impossible."
"I'm persuasive."
Shiro opened his mouth to protest again, but Selene leaned forward, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "I'll even convince Father. I'll tell him it's… an educational excursion."
He arched a brow. "And he'll believe that?"
"He always does," she said smoothly, brushing invisible dust from her sleeve. "Leave the convincing to me. All you have to do is agree."
Shiro sighed, defeated. "Fine. But if we get caught—"
"Then I'll protect you," she said sweetly, cutting him off.
He groaned, but the faintest smile betrayed him.
Somewhere in the hedges, his sisters' giggles carried on the breeze, as if even they could sense the mischief waiting to unfold.
Shiro set his cup down carefully, buying himself a moment. "You know, for someone raised with every luxury imaginable, you sure like running headfirst into trouble."
Selene's eyes sparkled. "Maybe that's because trouble is the only thing that feels alive. Do you want me to sit here all day, embroidering flowers while the world burns outside our gates?"
He gave her a flat look. "You don't even embroider."
"Exactly. See? I'd be terrible at it." She leaned forward, chin resting on her hands, voice dropping to a mock-dramatic whisper. "That's why I need you to suffer through the marketplace with me. Think of it as… heroic sacrifice."
"Heroic?" He snorted. "That's one word for it."
"You'll survive." She let the words hang, then smiled slyly. "Besides, it'll give me a chance to dress you up."
Shiro froze mid-sip. "...What?"
Selene's smirk grew positively wicked. "A disguise, Shiro. Surely you didn't think you'd be wandering the markets as yourself? Everyone in the capital knows the face of the anomaly by now. You'll need… adjustment."
He narrowed his eyes. "You sound far too excited about this."
"Because I am. Oh, just imagine—commoner's garb, maybe a hood, perhaps even—" she tilted her head, feigning deep thought, "—a mask. Something dramatic. You'd look dashing."
Shiro set his cup down harder than he meant to. "I'd look ridiculous."
"You already do," she teased, "so it wouldn't be much of a change."
He groaned, covering his face with one hand. "Why do I even talk to you?"
"Because I'm charming." Selene's tone softened then, just enough to cut through the banter. "And because you trust me, even when you shouldn't."
That last part hung between them, heavier than the laughter had been. Shiro lowered his hand, meeting her gaze. For once, she wasn't smirking, wasn't playing. Just watching him, steady and sure.
"…Fine," he said at last, exhaling. "One night. One trip. No more."
Selene leaned back in her chair, satisfied. "That's all I wanted to hear."
A shout of laughter from the garden broke the quiet, Elira chasing Mirielle with a daisy chain in hand. Shiro looked out at them, at their carefree joy, and felt something tighten in his chest.
Selene followed his gaze, then spoke gently. "See? Even your sisters would want this for you. Just a little normalcy."
He didn't answer, but he didn't argue either.
The day faded slowly into evening, painting the estate gardens in muted golds and soft purples. Shiro and Selene moved quietly through the corridors, careful not to draw attention.
"You're really doing this?" Shiro asked, voice low. "Sneaking out into the city at night?"
Selene grinned, tilting her head. "Of course. You think I'd ask for a shopping trip in broad daylight? Father would notice a dozen things wrong, from the amount of gold I carry to which lane I choose."
"And if he notices?"
"Then I handle it," she said simply. "Which is why we start with you."
He frowned. "Me?"
"Yes, you." Her fingers brushed his sleeve, just enough to be felt. "You'll need to look… less conspicuous. Help me keep this quiet, and we both get what we want."
Shiro groaned but didn't protest further. Somehow, arguing with Selene always felt pointless.
They approached the study door, dim light spilling from its edges. Selene paused, her expression turning serious. "Father."
He looked up from the papers scattered across the desk, the weight of authority pressing from his gaze. "Selene. You're out past curfew?"
"I was coming to speak with you," she said, steady. "About something… important."
He raised an eyebrow, suspicion clear. "Important enough to sneak through the halls?"
"I've arranged a… temporary excursion," she said, voice careful. "It's nothing reckless, I promise. I simply need him"—she gestured subtly toward Shiro—"to accompany me."
The lord's eyes shifted between the two of them, assessing, calculating. "And what, exactly, do you plan to accomplish with this 'excursion'?"
"Shopping," Selene replied casually, as if it were the most mundane thing in the world. "We need supplies for the estate. A few rare ingredients, fabrics… you know, things that cannot wait."
Shiro felt his chest tighten, already anticipating a lecture.
"I see," Lord Varenthal said slowly. His gaze flicked to Shiro, lingering in that way that made the boy feel under a microscope. "And you trust this boy to accompany you? To navigate the city safely at night?"
Selene's eyes met his father's without wavering. "I trust him. More than anyone else I could take. He's careful. Resourceful. And—" She paused, voice softening—"important."
Shiro's stomach sank as the word hit him like a hammer, but Selene ignored his wide-eyed panic.
Lord Varenthal leaned back, fingers steepled. "I don't approve of this."
Selene stepped forward, cutting him off completely. "You're not approving anything. I already have a fiancé." Her tone was sharp, leaving no room for negotiation. "So this… arrangement is irrelevant. You will not stop us."
The lord's expression darkened for a heartbeat, but the firmness in Selene's stance left him with little choice. He exhaled, the tension in the room easing slightly. "Very well," he said finally. "But you are both responsible for your actions. Do not return in trouble."
Selene's lips curved into a victorious smile. "Of course, Father. We'll be careful."
Shiro exhaled quietly, trying to process the whirlwind of tension, authority, and… Selene's unwavering confidence. She always managed to bend situations in her favor. Always.
Later, in a quiet corridor, she whispered to him as they prepared their disguises. "Now, think of what you'll wear carefully. The streets are unpredictable at night, and it's better if you don't draw attention."
Shiro glanced down at his plain tunic and patched cloak. "I'll never hear the end of it if I look ridiculous."
"Which is why I picked the cloak," she replied with a sly grin. "It hides you nicely, and I can almost guarantee no one will recognize the anomaly walking beside me."
And with that, the plan was set. The city awaited, cloaked in shadow and the scent of possibility, with two figures slipping silently into the night.
The city streets shimmered beneath lantern-light, their glow spilling across cobbled lanes alive with the hum of merchants and laughter. Selene tugged her hood tighter as she slipped into the crowd, her presence commanding attention even disguised.
"Stay close," she murmured to Shiro. "Eyes down. The less you stand out, the better."
Shiro obeyed, though his nerves buzzed. Even in shadow, Selene seemed to draw eyes wherever she went. Every vendor greeted her with suspicious warmth, every passerby turned their head for one more look.
They drifted between stalls: fragrant herbs bundled with string, silk dyed in impossible hues, glass baubles that reflected the lanterns like trapped stars. Selene's laughter spilled free when she bartered, quick and sharp, while Shiro hung back, half watching the crowd.
"Do you always tease them like that?" he muttered when she returned, holding two small parcels.
"It's called negotiation," she replied, smirking. "You'd be surprised what people will give up if you smile at them the right way."
Her confidence was infectious, but Shiro couldn't shake the gnawing tension in his chest. More than once, he caught eyes lingering too long—men with cloaks pulled low, merchants who studied them not as customers but as curiosities. His instincts screamed caution.
Selene brushed it off. "You worry too much. Relax. Tonight's for us."
But as they slipped through the quieter roads on their way home, the city fading behind them, Shiro's unease sharpened. The lanterns grew scarce, shadows stretching across the forested path. An owl hooted from the treeline. Then—
A figure stepped out from the darkness, blade glinting faintly. Another followed. Then another.
"Well, well," the first drawled. "Didn't think we'd find a prize walking home this late." His gaze flicked toward Selene. "Lady Varenthal, isn't it? What luck."
Selene stiffened, her hand instinctively reaching for her dagger. She barely drew it before a flash of movement—something struck her side. Her body froze, knees buckling, dagger slipping from numb fingers. She collapsed against Shiro, her voice barely a whisper. "Paralytic… poison."
Rage surged through him.
Shiro lowered her carefully, his pulse thundering. "Stay behind me," he said, though she could no longer move.
The men laughed. "Look at this—some boy thinks he's a knight."
But Shiro didn't wait. Training burned in his muscles, the lessons Kaelen drilled into him now instinct. He lunged, catching the first man off guard, his fist slamming into the attacker's jaw. A blade slashed across his arm—pain seared—but he twisted, drove his knee into the second man's gut.
It wasn't flawless. His movements were raw, born of desperation rather than mastery. But the will behind them—the raw determination not to let Selene be taken—gave them weight.
One man fell hard, unconscious. Another stumbled back, bloodied. The third cursed and fled into the trees, shadows swallowing him whole.
Shiro's breath came sharp and uneven, his vision swimming. Instinct—or something deeper—surged through him. He raised his bloodied arm, fingers trembling, and words he didn't know he knew clawed their way past his lips.
A flare of heat answered. Fire gathered in his palm, burning brighter, hotter than anything he'd summoned before in training. With a cry that tore from his throat, he hurled it forward.
The fleeing man barely had time to twist; the fire struck him full in the chest. He screamed once—a raw, human sound swallowed by the roar—then the flame engulfed him. Light swallowed the shadow; his cloak ignited, black smoke curling up into the night. The man fell, convulsing, and then the heat did what heat does: it consumed. In moments the figure was a heap of smoldering cloth and ash, a small column of gray drifting upward into the trees. No movement remained, only the scent of burned wood and something fouler under it.
Shiro lowered his arm slowly, chest heaving, the taste of iron thick on his tongue. He hadn't meant for it to be that strong. He hadn't even thought—he'd just done.
Shiro stood panting, blood dripping down his sleeve, every muscle burning. The forest was silent again save for his ragged breath and Selene's faint, shallow gasps.
He staggered to her side, lifting her carefully into his arms. Her head fell against his chest, heavy and warm.
"Don't… let go," she whispered weakly.
"I won't," he murmured. And he didn't.
The walk back to the estate felt endless. Each step dragged, his vision blurring at the edges, but he carried her still—through the initial gates, past the startled guards whose shouts split the night.
"My lady!" they cried, rushing forward. "You're injured—"
The estate's torchlit gates loomed ahead through the dark, golden light flickering against the ironwork. Shiro staggered forward, Selene cradled against his chest, her body limp and her breathing shallow. Each step sent a lance of pain through his arm and ribs, but he refused to let go.
"Hold on," he whispered hoarsely to her, though he wasn't sure if she heard. Her hair brushed his chin, damp with sweat, and the faintest tremor in her hand against his chest urged him on.
The guards at the gate saw them first. "Lord Shiro? Lady Selene?" one cried, disbelief etched in his voice. Then the man's eyes fell on the blood smeared across Shiro's tunic and Selene's pale face. "Open the gate! Now!"
Steel clanged as the doors parted, and half a dozen armored figures rushed forward. One of them reached for Selene immediately, but Shiro turned slightly, clutching her tighter.
"She's fine," he rasped, though the words were brittle. "Don't—don't touch her yet."
"Get a healer!" another guard barked over his shoulder, already sprinting into the courtyard.
Selene stirred faintly, her lips parting as though to speak. "Shiro…" Her voice was so soft it nearly broke him. Then her eyes fluttered closed again.
Panic threatened to crash through him, but before he could form words, strength fled his body. His knees buckled. He stumbled two steps past the gate before collapsing, still shielding Selene in his arms.
"Catch them!"
Hands reached from every direction, lifting Selene carefully from his hold, lowering Shiro onto the cobblestones. His vision blurred, torches becoming streaks of gold against the black sky.
"Get him inside! Both of them!"
Shiro tried to fight it, to stay conscious, but the warmth of Selene's weight leaving his arms left him hollow. A final, defiant thought pressed against his skull before the dark took him: I won't let them hurt her again.
Then the world went silent.