He’s Already Inside.

Bathhouse, night, the Academy

Steam rose in lazy curls, blurring the candlelight and turning the high-arched ceiling into a cathedral of shadows.

Sydney sank lower in the water, arms wrapped tight around her knees.

Her hair floated behind her, flames of red and gold splayed on the surface, only the tips curling back toward her face.

Her skin still stung where fire and frost had fought for space. It wasn't just her hands; the ache had crawled all the way into her bones.

She watched the ripples shiver outward.

The water was warm, but she couldn't shake the chill Wildglow left behind.

She tried not to think about the others.

Rei, with that unreadable look, storm magic on his fingertips and eyes sharp as judgment.

Katsu, sitting silent at the fire, always bracing himself for an attack that might never come, always holding back like every kindness might burn him.

A flush crept up her neck at the memory of how close they'd all come. Close to dying, close to shattering, close to something she couldn't name.

Her mind flashed on Rei, just for a second.

The cold confidence, the way he'd stepped between her and Katsu when things got bad.

She felt her cheeks heat, then shook her head, splashing water to erase the thought.

Focus, Sydney.

Legacy. Duty.

The words her mother always whispered, as if speaking them could make them true.

That never was an option.

Sydney let her head tip back against the cool edge of the tub, eyes fixed on the beams above.

The ceiling here reminded her of the ritual hall at Keahi manor. Fire dancing on the rafters, her name in burning script.

The whole family watching. Waiting.

She drew a slow breath, thinking of that night.

Thinking of every scar she was supposed to call a lesson. Every order she was supposed to obey.

Better a scar than a failure.

But what if all she wanted—just once—was to choose who she could be, not what the flame demanded?

Her thoughts drifted, slow as embers falling.

And she thought of Katsu.

Of how he moved through the world like he expected nothing but pain.

How he hid his magic behind walls of caution, how he spoke little but gave everything when it mattered.

She wondered, not for the first time, if he ever had a real choice.

Or if he, too, was just born into a story someone else wrote chained to a legacy he never asked for.

In that silent, steamy haze, Sydney closed her eyes, listening to the water echo around her.

For a moment, she let herself imagine something soft: not just surviving, not just enduring, but belonging. Not just for her but for Katsu, too.

When she opened her eyes again, the bathhouse was silent. The world outside waited, cold and sharp, but she felt a little warmer.

Maybe tomorrow.

She'd find the courage to ask Katsu if he ever wanted to be more than what he was told.

Or maybe, just for tonight,

I was enough to know she wasn't alone in the water, or in the weight of her inheritance.

—————

"You know, for a Nori, you're awfully hesitant."

Her voice curled through the mist.

Half-mocking, half-intrigued.

"Your father was never this much of a coward in battle."

Katsu's jaw tensed. "Shut the hell up."

He whipped water through the fog, each arc sharper than the last, splitting air and memory.

The spray hissed as it hit nothing.

"I'm just saying," she went on casually, words like knifes. "You don't measure up. Not to him."

He glared at the shadows where she lingered.

"Who said I ever wanted to be like my father? Shizune Nori was a war general. A samurai. I don't wield a sword. I'm not even half of him."

She laughed, low and knowing.

"You gain experience by wielding power, Katsu. Not the other way around."

"That's not how it works."

A branch snapped in the darkness.

He spun, water lashing out, shearing half the tree clean away.

He clicked his tongue, irritation simmering.

"If you'd stand still for more than a second, maybe I'd hit you."

The mist thickened; her presence closed in.

"There's no fun in that, my king."

He flinched. "I told you to stop calling me—"

He spun—face to face with her, closer than breath. Black hair streaked white.

Ivory cloak falling open over silver, skin luminous against the dark.

The world pressed tight around them, space flexing at her whim.

She smiled, slow and dangerous.

"What if I don't stop? What if I never do?"

Her gaze flicked down, then back up—hungry, amused.

"You can't touch me unless I let you… but me?"

She reached out.

Fingertip hovering just above his nose.

"I can touch you whenever I want."

Her hand moved forward, cutting through the cold until Katsu caught her wrist, faster than thought, body flickering through space.

The Leviathan stilled, lips quirking in surprise.

"There it is. That little trick of yours… Your classmates call it Flashstep, or Teleportation."

She leaned in, golden eyes glinting.

"But we both know better."

A pause. A private, electric silence.

She grinned. "I understand Ancient Magic."

For a moment, neither of them moved.

The air thickened, steam curling between them, silence drawn tight as wire.

Katsu finally broke it. "Why are you always this close?"

She leaned in, her voice a dark purr. "You're my king. At least until you die. I was sealed for a thousand years… you'll be lucky to see fifty. Maybe I owe you my life. Maybe not. I could leave whenever I want."

He held her gaze. "But you won't."

She laughed, soft and sharp. "Of course not. I want you to stew in your own mistakes."

"Freeing you was a mistake?"

"Yes. I should've stayed in hell." Her smile flashed, all teeth and promise.

He scoffed. "Hmph."

They lingered in the charged quiet.

Katsu twitched a finger; water leapt at her, but she vanished before the wave even formed, the air collapsing where she'd stood.

"If only your basic magic moved like your Ancient magic," she taunted from the far side of the mist, "then you'd be dangerous."

He exhaled, frustration edging his voice.

"That would mean blending them—water and oil."

She smirked, eyes glinting gold in the gloom.

"Magic is magic, sweetheart. The only limits are the ones you worship."

She vanished. So did the mist, pulled from the air with a snap of silence.

The world reformed around Katsu.

Above him, boots thudded to the ground.

Kairos dropped from the branches, Virenth right behind. Both landing with the kind of poise that said they'd seen everything.

Kairos dusted off his cloak.

"Training alone in the forest again?"

Katsu shrugged, chest still tight from the Leviathan's words. "Yeah."

Virenth circled the clearing, pausing by the half-shorn tree. He raised a brow.

"What happened here?"

Katsu barely blinked. "I think my dog ate it."

Virenth glanced at Kairos. "You hear that?"

Kairos just pressed his fingers to his temple.

"The Academy has rules, Katsu. Curfew. Dorm attendance. Classes. Sleep. You know—normal student things. Also, you haven't been showing up to Earth or Wind theory. Want to explain that?"

Katsu looked away, searching the frostbitten branches. "I don't like those classes."

Virenth clicked his tongue.

"Let me guess—this has to do with the Sydney girl, doesn't it?"

Busted. Katsu's mouth went dry.

"...Mayhaps."

Kairos sighed, voice flat with amusement.

"Would you believe he's Shizune's son? The general's boy, skipping rules like they're optional."

Virenth grinned, sharp as winter. "No, not at all."

Kairos just shook his head, but his gaze lingered, searching Katsu's face for something hidden.

"Listen. Your father was strict, but he wasn't a fool. Don't start picking which rules to follow just because you think you're special."

Katsu shrugged again, but the sting in his hands, the memory of the Leviathan's golden eyes, lingered.

"Yeah. I hear you," he muttered, voice quieter now. "Just… needed some air."

Virenth's eyes softened, just a little.

"Next time, leave the trees standing. Or we'll have to start naming the stumps."

Katsu almost smiled. "No promises."

Kairos's lips twitched.

"You've got five minutes before patrol circles back. Head inside. And Katsu?"

He paused, turning back.

"Don't make us come find you again."

Katsu nodded. "Understood."

He slipped through the trees, the laughter of old friends fading behind him.

Above, the stars flickered cold and bright

Indifferent, but somehow less lonely than before.

Rei watched him from the trees, unsensed by Katsu.

The Leviathan smiled.

This was going to be hell.

…

Virenth's knuckles were white against his knee.

He watched the last red rays fade from the Academy towers.

"You know the old stories, Kairos? The ones about Votum?"

Kairos grunted, "I know how they end. Fire, exile, a body in the ashes."

Virenth shook his head.

"That's the version they let the children believe. But the body they buried… There are whispers now, growing louder. They say it wasn't him. Not all of him, anyway. They say something left behind—his mind, maybe his will."

Kairos turned, sharp. "You think he's alive?"

"Not alive."

Virenth's voice was thin as wire.

"But not dead. There are signs. Magic only Votum knew. Now as sigils from the Antiarcane. They've have started appearing in the borderlands. And I've seen it, Kairos. Something moving behind the scenes. Like someone's testing the locks on every old door at once."

The wind howled. Far off, the Academy bell tolled.

Kairos stood, tension in every line of his body.

"If Votum's mind survived, if he's working through another? Then we're not just talking about rogue mages. We're talking about a war that never ended."

Virenth met his eyes.

"No, we're talking about a war that's about to begin. And Katsu—" He hesitated, then pressed on, "—Katsu isn't ready for what's coming. None of them are. The houses need to band together."

Then asound.

Soft, international, cut through the hush.

Both men froze, turning to see a figure standing where there should have been only shadows.

A cloaked silhouette, face hidden.

But the air around them shimmered.

Old magic, the kind that made the skin crawl.

A voice, neither young nor old, echoed between the trees. "You're too late. The gates are open. He's already here."

A black sigil, ancient, twisting, flared at the figure's feet. The earth trembled.

Virenth and Kairos drew weapons, but the air snapped, reality twisting, the world shuddering as if a door had just swung wide.

Then silence.

The shadow was gone.

In its place, only the sigil burned into the roots, leaking darkness into the snow.

Kairos's voice was hollow, haunted.

"Votum… or whatever he's become—he's not coming."

Virenth swallowed.

"He's already inside."