While the question was simple, it pained Vierna. For her, Fenric was a tether, someone who reminded her of who she truly was: a young girl who had once only wanted to study magic and have friends.

  She wanted to be honest with him, especially after everything he had done for her. He had defended her when she slipped during the interrogation; even when he claimed he did it out of self-interest, she knew that wasn’t the whole truth. He had gone out into the storm to find Lina when he could have stayed home, dry and safe.

  Vierna studied Fenric’s face. His expression was stern, like a judge staring down a guilty soul. The black marks, the effects of using too much magic under the influence of Hairon root, crawled across his face as if his blood were obsidian instead of red. He folded his arms, his gaze locked on her, unblinking and unwavering.

  The veins pulsed faintly, alive under his skin. Every time they did, Fenric winced.

  He was the same boy who had withstood the Hairon root tea during the interrogation, lying through agony, and now the pain etched across his face spoke volumes about what the tea had done to him.

  Looking at it now—at how much agony it had caused Fenric, and how much pain it had brought her when she fought the beast—Moony must have felt it all, even during her fight against the many-armed girl.

  That meant she had toned down her own suffering, shouldered it alone, muffled her screams so Vierna could focus on the battle. It was a kind of self-sacrifice Vierna knew too well, and the realization struck her like a lance driven straight into her chest.

  Her hands tightened. What Loran’del had done to her was far more troublesome than she had thought. Not only had it left her unable to use magic—it had caused Moony such pain that she wasn’t responding to Vierna at all.

  Maybe Moony really is dead… and I can’t use magic anymore.

  She quickly shook her head. Now wasn’t the time to let her thoughts wander. Fenric was waiting for an answer, and if she didn’t give one that satisfied him, her entire mission could crumble.

  “Fenric… maybe I wasn’t being honest about who I am, but—”

  Fenric rose from where he sat and walked toward the hearth. He took one of the waterskins hanging from the wall and poured its contents into the pot suspended above the fire. The faint hiss of heating water filled the cave. After a moment, he reached for a clay mug and a wooden ladle, scooping some of the hot water into it.

  From his pocket, he drew a small pouch of herbs and loosened the string. As soon as he opened it, a familiar scent drifted through the air, deceptively pleasant. At first, it smelled faintly sweet, like wild mint with a trace of honey’s warmth. But beneath that comfort lingered a sharp, metallic undertone that clung to the throat, warning of something far more sinister.

  When he poured the mixture into the mug, the scent deepened, blooming through the cave. Vierna recognized it instantly. Hairon root tea.

  On the surface, it was soothing, medicinal, almost gentle, yet she knew too well the truth behind it.

  “Fenric…”

  “Loran’del gave it to me when I got home after the party, the one where I helped you before.” He said as he stared Vierna sharply. “He said I would know when to use it.”

  “Vierna, look at me,” he continued. “If I go back to Rolbart now, they’ll know I’m a liar. All I ever wanted was to live a quiet life there. I thought you were just a kind girl with bad luck, someone who didn’t deserve what Korrn put you through. That’s why I helped you during the interrogation. I thought you deserved a break. But it seems I was wrong.”

  “You can’t just force her to drink that!” Lina burst out, her anger barely contained. “You know she already drank it when—”

  “You’re next,” Fenric cut her off. “I don’t know who you are, but even I could sense that your fire wasn’t born of mana. The only thing that can produce that kind of power is Grace. And if you use Grace, it’s not hard to imagine you’re from the Imperium.”

  “We are not from the Imperium!” Lina’s voice cracked as the words tore from her chest. To be mistaken for the very enemy she had sworn to destroy felt like a blade twisting inside her.

  “It’s all right, Lina,” Vierna said gently. “The tea won’t hurt me if I tell the truth, right?”

  Fenric nodded once.

  “I’m tired of lying anyway.” Vierna took the mug from his hands. “I don’t blame you, Fenric. If this is what it takes to earn your trust again, then I don’t mind.”

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  Fenric set the mug in front of her. The steam from it wavered, tugged by the wind sneaking through the mouth of the cave. Thunder rumbled in the distance, echoing like a judge’s gavel.

  Vierna’s mind, however, was elsewhere, on Moony. The spirit still hadn’t responded to her calls, and though she wasn’t comatose or drooling, that silence was unbearable. Perhaps her connection to Moony had been severed, leaving only the shell, which meant no more magic.

  The thought pressed on her chest like a stone sinking into her ribs. Losing magic meant losing half the drive that kept her alive. She wanted to cry, to scream, to curse the fate that had brought her here. She had endured procedures, indoctrination, humiliation—all of it for the sake of magic—and now that was being taken away. But the situation didn’t allow her to break, didn’t allow her the mercy of tears.

  And now she had to drink another poison, one that could hurt Moony again if she lied. But it didn’t matter. Her thoughts scrambled, searching for a story Fenric might believe, yet in the end she settled on the only answer that would guarantee his trust: the truth.

  She looked at Lina. Her gaze was steady, full of warmth. Maybe even if she did lose her magic, at least she would still have Lina. And that would have to be enough, even if her dreams had died.

  After the tea had cooled a little, Vierna took the mug in her hands. She stared at the black liquid, her fingers trembling. No matter how many times her mind told her to drink, her body refused to obey.

  “Vierna… you don’t have to,” Lina said softly.

  “No, Lina. It’s either this or Fenric tells Loran’del himself. He’ll have us thrown out, and our mission will fail. In a way, maybe Fenric will understand what we’re doing.”

  “But what about Moony?”

  “I just hope Herr Halwen knows something… later on.”

  Lina relented, turning her face away, unable to watch her beloved drink poison again.

  Finally, she forced her body. She raised the mug to her lips and drank it all in one go. The bitterness spread instantly, coating her tongue and throat with a metallic burn. She turned the mug upside down when she was done, then opened her mouth to show she had truly swallowed it.

  Back then, just drinking the tea was enough to make Moony scream, but right now? There was only hollow silence. That realization shook Vierna to her core, because if Moony didn’t scream again, maybe she truly was in a better place.

  She wanted to cry, to rage, to curse Fenric for making her drink the tea again, but how could she? Not only would it jeopardize her mission, but part of her knew why he had to do it.

  Fenric sat in silence. Vierna could see it—the faint flicker in his expression, the momentary waver that betrayed how difficult this was for him too. Yet she understood. He had risked everything once to protect her; he deserved the truth now.

  And despite everything that had happened, she couldn’t bring herself to hate him.

  “Now,” he said quietly, his voice low but firm. “Start from the beginning. Who are you, and what do you want here?”

  Vierna nodded faintly. She took a slow breath, her hands resting on her knees, and began to speak.

  She told him everything: where she came from, the orphanage, how Leopold had “adopted” her, how he had assigned her a mentor and overseen the procedures that turned her into something half human and half experiment. She explained how she had accepted all of it, even knowing what it made her. How she had convinced herself it was fine, that it was necessary. Her voice wavered at times, but she tried to keep her composure.

  Lina sat beside her, trembling. Hearing Vierna’s story was like watching an old wound being reopened and salted. But what truly broke her wasn’t the orphanage; it was everything that came before.

  Her stomach turned. Each word Vierna spoke cut deeper. She had lived through those moments too, but hearing them spoken aloud made her realize how terrible they truly were. Back then she hadn’t understood, hadn’t felt, how cruel it all was. But now, hearing it retold to someone else, the full weight of it finally sank in.

  She already knew this about her. She had seen it before, the night Vierna first unmasked herself and spoke of the procedures with quiet pride instead of hate. Back then Lina had believed her completely. But hearing it again now, seeing her speak those same words with no trace of pain or hesitation, was something else entirely.

  Fenric’s expression softened for a moment, the edge of his suspicion fading, but he caught himself and straightened, slipping back into the role of an interrogator. His dark eyes flicked between them, unblinking, weighing every word.

  “Then what about her?” he asked, nodding toward Lina. “Is she from the Imperium?”

  Vierna turned to her, meeting Lina’s somber gaze.

  “Tell him,” Lina said, her voice steady with conviction.

  Vierna nodded. “First off, her name is Lina. She’s my girlfriend.”

  Then she told Fenric about Lina, about how she had met her for the first time in the facility, how Lina hated the Imperium, the reason behind it, and why she could wield Grace. She told him about the experiments Leopold had performed on her, the scars they left, and how they had bonded through shared trauma and the battle at Einhartturm. She spoke of their dream to end the war that had torn the Continent apart.

  Hearing it, and knowing this time it was the truth, Fenric’s face slackened. Pity flickered in his expression, but he hid it quickly, refusing to let emotion guide him. He didn’t say anything to Lina, only listened, his silence heavy with understanding.

  When Vierna finally finished reintroducing them both, Fenric exhaled slowly, a long, weary sigh escaping his chest.

  “Then, why are you two here?”

  Vierna then told Fenric about how Leopold had assigned her to Rolbart. The duke himself had already suspected what the baron and the count hadn’t and wasn’t going to be idle about it. She told him about the caravan raid, how Leopold suspected Rolbart already. And finally, the truth of their mission was to locate the group’s position and report everything back to him.

  Fenric’s jaw tightened. His shoulders stiffened, the muscles in his neck straining as if he were forcing himself not to react. His hands curled into fists at his sides, knuckles pale beneath the dim firelight. The silence between them thickened, broken only by the faint crackle of the hearth. He didn’t need to ask which group she meant. He already knew.

  Yvlaine’s group.

  “Vierna…” His voice was low, trembling under the weight of conflict. “I have to tell Loran’del about all of this.”