n a dimly lit hall beneath an abandoned manor, a group of nobles gathered around a long, cracked table.
No banners.
No servants.
Just whispers—and fear.
At the head of the table sat Cassian Thorne, his jaw tight, his fingers drumming impatiently.
"Three assassination attempts," he hissed. "Three failures. And now the girl grows closer to the royal family."
A noblewoman to his right leaned forward.
"She's gaining influence with the king. If we don't move faster, our plan will crumble before it begins."
Cassian's eyes narrowed.
"Then we gather more allies. Slowly. Quietly. The coup will happen—but only when all the chess pieces are in place."
Someone muttered,
"And the girl? Raven Nightthron ?"
A shadow crossed Cassian's expression.
"She will die eventually. Today, tomorrow—soon enough. For now… we let her guard down."
We must change our objective; we must weaken the ruling family.
The nobles nodded, unaware that their carefully spun web was about to tear apart again.
⸻
Two days later…
The marketplace was alive with morning light and the sound of vendors calling out their prices.
Raven walked beside Princess Lyria and Kara Blackwood, both disguised in simpler clothing.
Lyria smiled as she admired handmade jewelry on a stall, unaware of the cold eyes watching from between the crowds.
Then—
A man covered in a hood broke into a sprint toward them.
At first no one noticed.
Then Raven felt it.
The air shifted.
Morrivayne stirred faintly in the back of her mind.
Danger.
The hooded man pulled a dagger from beneath his cloak—
its blade dripping a black, oily liquid.
Not aimed at Raven this time .
Aimed straight at Lyria's heart.
Lyria froze, eyes widening.
She couldn't even breathe before the blade reached her—
But a hand closed around the dagger mid-strike.
Raven 's hand.
Bare.
Firm.
Unflinching.
The poisoned blade carved deep into her palm, slicing clean through flesh, but Raven didn't even blink.
She twisted the weapon out of the attacker's grip and drove it back into his throat in one fluid motion.
The man collapsed instantly.
Before his body hit the ground, another assassin leapt from behind them—
But Kara was already moving.
Steel flashed.
With a single horizontal slash, she severed the man's throat, her face twisted with fury.
⸻
Lyria grabbed Raven 's wrist immediately.
Her voice trembled.
"Raven, the dagger—it's coated in poison! You're bleeding badly—we have to get you treated!"
But Raven shook her head calmly, golden eyes steady.
"Poison doesn't work on me."
What?what do you mean,
but "You're still bleeding!" Lyria insisted, voice breaking. "Please—let me heal you!"
She pressed her glowing hand against Raven's wound.
Raven watched silently .
She knew her magic didn't work on her, but she let the princess try.
Nothing happened.
The cut didn't even closed .
She tried again—stronger.
Still nothing.
Confusion and fear flickered across Lyria's face.
"This… this isn't normal. It's like something is blocking my magic. This poison must be—"
"It isn't the poison," Raven interrupted, voice soft and cold.
"Your healing magic doesn't work on me."
Both Lyria and Kara froze.
"What do you mean?" Kara demanded. "Healing works on everyone."
Raven shrugged lightly.
"It doesn't work on someone with magic that absorbs other magic."
Lyria blinked, stunned.
"But… I thought your ability was copying?"
Raven's lips curled into a small, mischievous smirk.
"I never said I only have one ability."
The princess's cheeks puffed slightly in frustrated embarrassment.
"How many abilities do you have, then?"
Raven tapped her chin playfully.
"That's a secret."
Lyria exhaled sharply. Annoyed, but unable to hide the concern in her eyes, she took her handkerchief and gently wrapped it around Raven's bleeding palm.
Slow.
Careful.
Almost tender.
"Please," she whispered, "be more careful from now on."
Raven didn't comment.
But for a moment—just one—her expression softened.
⸻
When Lyria returned to the palace and reported what had happened, the king's fury shook the entire hall.
"They dared attack my daughter in broad daylight?"
He slammed a hand onto the armrest of his throne.
"Find the culprits. All of them. I want answers by nightfall."
And beneath the royal calm… a storm began brewing.
The nobles' quiet rebellion had crossed a forbidden line.
Now the kingdom itself would hunt them.