Moment Of Truth

The air in the room was heavy, thick with unspoken truths and quiet tension. Cassia swirled the wine in her glass, watching the dark liquid catch the candlelight before taking a slow sip. The sweetness lingered on her tongue, but it did little to distract her from the weight of what she was about to say.

The Zakharovs were… strange. Eccentric. Terrifying. And yet, more than anything, they were utterly ridiculous. They carried themselves like they took nothing seriously, as if life itself was some grand joke meant to be laughed at.

Her gaze flickered toward Klaus. While his siblings were all powerful Masters, he was still just an Awakened. And yet… There was something wrong with him—something beyond her sight, beyond even her divinations. That was what unsettled her the most.

She exhaled softly before speaking.

"Klaus… I'm going to challenge my Second Nightmare soon. My friends and I… we don't know how long it'll take. Maybe months. Maybe year."

Klaus, who had been lounging on the couch with his usual lazy elegance, raised an eyebrow. He leaned forward slightly, swirling his drink, the amber liquid shifting lazily in the glass. His piercing gaze locked onto hers, his smirk subdued, thoughtful.

"Hmm… Well…" He dragged out the words, almost playfully, but there was something sharp underneath. "Second Nightmares are extremely dangerous, Cas."

Tatiana, who had been reclining with feigned boredom, suddenly sat up, her expression losing its usual teasing edge. She sighed, giving Cassia a considering look.

"Listen, sweetie. The Second Nightmare is like the First… but at the same time, it's completely different," she explained, voice smooth but serious. "The Spell sends an Awakened cohort into an illusion of the past, one centered around a central conflict. To conquer the Nightmare, you'll have to resolve that conflict—one way or another. There's no 'right' or 'wrong' way to do it."

Noah, who had been quietly reading, finally set his book aside. He regarded Cassia with the same cool elegance he carried in everything he did.

"Unlike the First Nightmare, the Second isn't tailor-made for a single person," he added. "The Spell will try to find a body that resembles you, but it won't always be a perfect match. You'll be the same Rank, more or less the same build… but there will be differences. If you're not quick enough to adjust, if you hesitate at the wrong moment—"

"You'll die," Diego finished bluntly, grinning as he leaned back in his chair. "Painfully, if you're lucky."

Cassia nodded, absorbing their words. She already knew some of this, had seen glimpses of it in her visions, but hearing it from people who had lived through it… that was something else.

Diego sipped his drink, his grin widening as he reminisced. "Honestly, I didn't care about any of this crap when I did mine," he admitted with a careless shrug. "But I definitely underestimated it. Ended up way bloodier than I expected." He chuckled, clearly unbothered. "Not that I minded—good fights are hard to come by, y'know?"

Cassia gave him a dubious look. "You enjoyed it?"

"Of course I did," Diego scoffed, as if the idea of not enjoying a brutal life-or-death struggle was absurd.

Isaac groaned dramatically. "Yeah, yeah, we know, Diego. You had fun. Meanwhile, I nearly died because the Spell decided I should be a serpent. A serpent, Cassia. Do you have any idea how horrifying it is to wake up in a Nightmare and realize you don't have hands?"

Klaus smirked. "I still regret not being there to see that."

"Oh, shut up," Isaac muttered, rubbing his temple as if the memory still gave him a headache. "Point is—there's no one 'right' way to clear a Nightmare. Sometimes, the people you enter with aren't even on your side. Hell, if it comes down to it, you might have to fight each other. Be prepared for that, too."

Cassia processed his words, her fingers tightening slightly around her glass.

"That's… good to know."

Klaus watched her carefully, his smirk softening into something more thoughtful. "It'll be hell, Cas. You sure you're ready for that?"

Cassia exhaled slowly. "I don't think anyone is ever truly ready," she admitted. "But I have to do this."

A brief silence settled over the room. Then, surprisingly, it was Tatiana who broke it—lifting her glass in a slow, elegant motion.

"Well then," she said with a smirk, "to survival."

Noah lifted his own glass. "To adaptation."

Diego grinned. "To battle and good music!"

Isaac snickered. "And to never being turned into a snake again."

Cassia huffed a small laugh despite herself. She clinked her glass against theirs.

"To the Second Nightmare."

___

The silence that followed Klaus's siblings' departure was a heavy, tangible thing. The distant echoes of their voices faded into the vast halls of the mansion, leaving only two people behind.

Cassia hesitated.

Her fingers curled tighter around her glass, the cool surface grounding her in the moment. Then, something shifted. The soft elegance that so often draped her like a veil was gone. Her face hardened, sharp and merciless, an edge honed by survival.

It was easy to forget, sometimes, that Cassia wasn't just a delicate beauty wrapped in tragedy. She had survived the Forgotten Shore. She had been trained by Changing Star herself. She had fought through nightmares and horrors and endured.

She had killed.

"I know who you are."

The air in the room changed.

A sharp, almost imperceptible pause.

Then, Klaus's expression darkened, his presence shifting into something dangerous. A suffocating, bloodthirsty aura seeped from him like ink, thick and oppressive. The mansion itself seemed to tremble, as if recoiling from the sheer malice that radiated from his being.

But Cassia didn't flinch. She held his gaze, unwavering, her own resolve burning strong.

"I also know that you know I can't see you in my visions," she continued, voice smooth and steady. "I can't see your runes, either. But that doesn't matter. I can see your siblings. I can divine the truth from what's around you. And I know—" she exhaled, her fingers curling into her dress, "—that you're all killers. That you've killed more people than I can even count. I know what happened here."

Her voice was devoid of anger. There was no judgment. Just cold, quiet certainty.

For the briefest second, something flickered in Klaus's eyes—panic.

Then it was gone. A slow exhale escaped him, and the tension in his shoulders eased.

So that's what she figured out.

For a moment, he had thought she had uncovered his true origins. That would've been… problematic. But this? This was fine.

"I see," he murmured, settling back into the couch. He swirled the drink in his hand, watching the liquid shift. "And what of it? Don't tell me you're upset because you can't see me. Because I'm a murderer or some self-righteous bullshit like that. We both know you're a killer too, Cassia."

She hesitated.

Klaus sighed. With a flick of his fingers, the room was sealed from the outside world. Sound. Space. Presence. Nothing would leave these walls.

Then, he leaned back, arms draped lazily over the couch.

"Go on," he said. "Say what you need to say."

Cassia exhaled, a weariness settling into her delicate features. Not physical fatigue—something deeper.

"… Can I tell you something?" she murmured.

Klaus nodded. "Of course."

She lingered, as if debating whether she should even speak. But when she finally did, her voice was quiet, laced with guilt and a sorrow so deep it seemed to sink into her very bones.

"What if I told you… that my choices made my friend a slave?" Her hands trembled slightly. "What if I told you that another is trapped in a dream realm because of me? That no matter how much I try to change fate, it always ends the same way."

She looked up, her sightless eyes clouded with anguish.

"I am powerless, Klaus. My fate is to witness everything—every tragedy, every death, until there's no one left alive. And then I'll die too." Her voice cracked. "But you… you are different. You're an error in fate's tapestry. I don't know how you do it, but it's clear. I can't see you—your past, your present, your future. I don't even know your runes. You shouldn't exist."

Her voice wavered.

"So tell me, Klaus…" Her fingers dug into her clothes. "What am I supposed to do?"

Klaus watched her for a long moment. His sharp, predatory gaze softened.

She was exhausted. Not just physically, but spiritually.

She was breaking.

Without a word, he reached out and took her hand in his, his grip firm but gentle.

"A wise man once said," he murmured, his voice a quiet rumble, "the more you fight monsters, the more you start to think like them. Rage turns into purpose. Cruelty into necessity. And before you know it, you become the very thing you sought to destroy."

His voice dropped lower, dark and knowing.

"Stare into the darkness long enough, and it changes you. You might think you're in control because of your visions. But the abyss is patient, Cassia. It waits. Watching."

He tilted his head slightly, eyes gleaming.

"You watch people. You manipulate them. You push them toward certain outcomes, all in an effort to shape the future into something you can accept." His smile was small, almost gentle—but the words he spoke were razor-sharp. " because of that, one day, you look into the mirror… and you don't recognize the person staring back.

So tell me, little wolf… What's the difference between you and fate in that case?"

His lips quirked into something almost amused. "Well… metaphorically, of course. Since, y'know, you can't look in a mirror."

Cassia blinked. Then, to his utter surprise, she let out a soft, bitter laugh.

"When did you become a philosopher, Klaus?"

His smirk returned, slow and lazy. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

For a moment, the weight in the air lightened. The tension in her shoulders eased just slightly. But then, she took a shaky breath, her grip tightening around his.

Klaus sighed, his thumb absentmindedly brushing over her knuckles. "I don't know your pain," he admitted. "I won't pretend to. But if it's too much to bear alone… then don't." His voice was steady, filled with quiet certainty. "You're not alone, little wolf. If you can't do it by yourself, then lean on me. I'll be there."

Cassia stared at him.

Her expression—already fragile—crumbled further, and her sightless eyes glistened with unshed tears.

Why?

Why was he like this?

She had expected a laugh. A joke. Something to break the weight of her words.

But instead, he had given her kindness.

A warmth she didn't deserve.

She knew she was just pushing her guilt, her burdens, her mistakes onto him. That she was just being selfish, using his kindness for her own comfort.

Before she could say anything, Klaus let out a low chuckle.

And then, to her absolute shock, he kissed her.

Her breath caught in her throat. Her blind, stormy eyes widened in disbelief.

His lips were warm, his touch lingering just long enough to make her head spin.

Before she could even process what was happening, Klaus pulled away. A slow, smug, infuriatingly satisfied smirk curled at his lips.

His tongue flicked out, lazily licking his own lips.

"Mmm." He leaned back, looking completely at ease. "Sweet. Just like your wine."

Cassia froze.

Then, all at once, her face flared crimson.

Her mind blanked.

Her heart stuttered.

Klaus simply laughed, utterly delighted by her reaction—

Until she punched him.

Hard.

He yelped, dramatically clutching his chest. "Ow! Cassia! I comforted you! Is this the thanks I get?"

She scowled, her cheeks still burning. "You deserved that."

Klaus groaned, rubbing his arm, but the smug grin never left his face.

Cassia exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down her face and storming out of room.