“Your appearance…”

  Astra saw the fireball coming before it even left his hands. She dropped low, the heat rushing past as she rolled onto one knee.

  A fraction of a second later, she struck.

  Her palm found his ankle, her other hand hooked his knee. One sharp pull. He stumbled, barely catching himself before hitting the ground.

  “…will make it easy for you to blend in…”

  “Why haven’t you used your power yet?” he spat, his eyes flashing with rage. “Are you looking down on—”

  She already stepped into his space in a blink. Two fingers to the carotid sinus. Precise pressure. His eyes rolled back, and he crumpled.

  “…as just another Gifted student.”

  The crowd went dead silent.

  Dean Saito, his usually impassive face betraying a flicker of shock, stepped forward, looking between Astra and her unconscious opponent.

  “The winner of this round is… Astra Elite.” His voice carried through the arena, but there was a hesitance to it, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he had seen. “Congratulations on advancing to B-Class… without demonstrating your arcane ability."

  “I did." She brushed dust from her green brazer’s sleeves. "How else did I win?"

  Without waiting for a response, she turned on her heels and strode off, ignoring the lingering stares. She barely heard Dean Saito announce the end of the match.

  Her fingers clenched at her sides. Blend in?

  No.

  She wasn’t meant to blend in. She was forced to stand out.

  It turned out the Council hadn’t just approved her undercover mission at St. Kevin’s: they had engineered it. Perfect timing, the perfect opportunity to learn more about the elusive Van Nassaus. And to get close to Athena, she first had to secure her place in A-Class.

  The problem? Her blade, once drawn, was meant to kill. Blunt edges didn’t exist in her world.

  This mission was an impossible contradiction.

  Except…

  On her way out, her gaze caught on a rack of wooden practice swords, abandoned near the edge of the training grounds. She allowed a small smile.

  Not entirely impossible.

  What was truly impossible, however, was figuring out Eydis.

  She remained an enigma. They hadn’t been assigned the same room at first, given Astra had enrolled later than the rest. But that hadn’t stopped her from watching or observing.

  And the girl was…

  not at all what she had imagined.

  “Hey, four-eyed freak, where’s the chem homework?”

  Tiffany, a blonde with performed confidence, cornered Eydis by the lockers. Astra saw the way Tiffany swallowed, the quick flick of her gaze toward her friends, searching for… validation?

  Interesting.

  The boy beside her shoved Eydis hard against the metal. Astra’s body tensed, a reflexive step forward, but she stopped herself.

  She watched. She waited.

  For something—anything—to crack the mask. She strained her sense, trying to catch a hint of deception, a sign of hidden strength. But there was nothing.

  No controlled breath. No shift in stance hinting. No trace of magic in the air.

  Nothing at all.

  Just fear. Just the sound of Eydis gasping, her breath stuttering as if the impact had knocked the air from her lungs. Just the way her fingers trembled around the books she clutched.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  Astra spoke before she had fully decided to. She wasn’t sure why. She simply didn’t like what she saw.

  “Enough.”

  Tiffany turned. “Who the hell are you?” Then her eyes dropped to Astra’s pin, and she hesitated. “A B-Class? Stay out of this.”

  “I wasn't aware I took orders from you.”

  “Just because you’re some unknown Gifted student doesn’t mean you can—”

  Eydis interrupted. “H-here’s the homework.” Her voice was small. She extended the paper with unsteady hands. “Sorry.”

  Tiffany snatched it and stalked off, her entourage in tow.

  Astra had spent years reading people: catching the micro-expressions, the subtle tells that said more than words. But Eydis... she was either the most skilled actor Astra had ever encountered, or she was exactly what she appeared to be.

  “Y-You shouldn't have stepped in." Eydis kept her eyes on the floor. "It'll just make things worse. The Blackwoods... no one can touch them. And I don't—"

  She lifted her head, pressing her glasses firmly against the bridge of her nose.

  Amber eyes met crimson. Eydis drew a sharp breath and colour lit her face.

  Astra blinked.

  She had seen it many times and knew what it meant. Could this clumsy teen really be the woman who once radiated something ancient, dangerous, allur—no, insidious? The one who had called herself Pride?

  Had Astra spent all this time chasing a ghost, building her purpose on an illusion? What if Pride had never existed at all?

  The thought widened the fracture in the foundation of everything she believed. Her entire existence had narrowed to a single goal only to find it was a mirage.

  She told herself to drop it, walk away, release the past and Pride. She knew the truth wouldn’t rewrite her history, erase what she was, cleanse the blood from her hands, or unmake the thing she had become. She had thought this mission would bring her answers.

  Instead, it had taken something from her.

  Hope.

  The greenhouse was the only place she could breathe, the one thing she had asked him to build when her grip on control slipped. For two years she worked the soil there every day, speaking less, listening more.

  Then Eydis changed.

  At first it was small: a keener gleam to her eye, an edge to her smile, a voice that folded meaning into layers. She stopped looking at Astra like distant starlight and began watching her the way a cat studies a flame, half curious, half delighted.

  It should have set alarms ringing.

  Instead, Astra found herself watching. Not because she suspected Eydis of being Pride, but because she couldn’t stop. She caught herself memorising the shape of Eydis’s words, smiling at their absurdity, noting the grace with which she filled every space…

  And invaded hers.

  Astra told herself to ignore it, but she kept noticing.

  As if drawn.

  As if compelled.

  As if…

  Captivated.

  She had lived so long in emotional twilight that her feelings felt borrowed, dimmed to someone else’s voice. Now she knew exactly what they were.

  Present. Real. Like waking from a long, heavy sleep.

  She wondered if the feeling had always been there, if disconnection had been the lie.

  A storm answered her question.

  Rain lashed against her helmet until she removed it, thunder rolling across the sky like a warning: Turn back. She didn't. She couldn't. Her instincts screamed that she was running out of time.

  And everything that could go wrong, did.

  Her heels barely made a sound on the wet grass, but her thoughts were a hurricane. Eydis stood ahead, violet light and lightning lifting her out of the dark.

  She didn’t just look like Pride.

  She was Pride.

  The realisation knocked at Astra’s lungs. She tightened her grip on the blades to stop the tremor in her hands. And for the first time…

  The weight of the blades in her hands felt unbearable.

  Eydis fell. Astra lunged and caught her. Heat spread across Astra’s palm—blood, thick and frightening. Eydis clutched Astra’s jacket with shaking fingers.

  No. Astra fumbled for her phone. The call connected.

  “Miss Astra, I’m sorry! We've got a situation in New York—"

  Shouting, footsteps, the line cut off.

  “Fuck!”

  Focus. Astra pressed harder against Eydis’s wound, but blood still slipped through her fingers. She had seen death, even delivered it, but this was different.

  “Eydis. Fuck! Stay with me!”

  Thunder cracked again. Rain thudded against her jacket, but it felt like it could reach her bones. Eydis’s breathing grew shallow, her lips pale and quivering.

  Astra scrambled for her phone again. But where was it? She couldn’t think, couldn’t—

  Then the fingers clinging weakly to Astra’s jacket fell away. Something inside Astra snapped.

  It wasn’t a decision. It wasn’t even thought. Light, gold and living, poured from her palm. For once it didn’t feel destructive. It burned, yet felt gentle, pulsing with her heartbeat as if it had always waited for this moment.

  Life, not death.

  Gathering Eydis into her arms, she held her closer, barely aware of the rain washing through her hair, down her cheeks. But it wasn’t just the storm soaking them. It was something warmer.

  She pressed her glowing hand to the wound. The light flared, then sank into torn flesh. Bleeding slowed, stopped, and colour slowly returned to Eydis’s face. She stirred, and the metallic stench faded beneath the scent of lavender shampoo Astra had noticed a hundred casual times and never admitted she liked.

  For the first time since that rainy night in the alley—since the first time she had ever taken a life—

  She finally understood what she was meant to be.

  A killer. That part wouldn’t change. But also…

  A healer.

  A walking paradox.

  But had she ever meant to hurt Eydis? Even if… even if she was Pride?

  Her answer lived in her arms, in the way she held Eydis like safety itself. The same instinct had led her here, had shown her the truth she had been afraid to look at.

  Astra’s voice came out raw against Eydis’s ear.

  “You don’t know what I want, Eydis.”