Night in Seravenn was something else.
It wasn’t the shining marble of the central buildings or the squares filled with playing children. It was smoke and damp air, flickering streetlights that seemed just as tired. It was the sour smell of reused frying oil, the pavement creaking under my boots, and a skinny dog sniffing at a torn bag of trash.
I walked slowly.
Not because I had time, but because each step helped me remember that I could still walk on my own.
I passed by a bakery just as they were turning off the lights.
A man with flour-streaked cheeks was sweeping the floor with more anger than skill, shouting at his son —a boy no older than eight— who was picking up crates with cold little hands. I didn’t want to hear, but I did anyway.
— …if the goddesses actually did something, we wouldn’t be closing this late, right?
The boy didn’t answer. He just nodded. I kept walking.
A few meters ahead, I heard two young people standing at the corner of a closed shop. They were smoking, laughing under their breath, but it wasn’t joyful.
— Did you see the parade? So pretty, so perfect. I bet they live like princesses.
— They say they train all day.
— Yeah, sure. But training isn’t fighting. You don’t see them on the front lines.
— I think they’re just for morale. What, are they going to save the country in heels?
I laughed to myself. Heels. If only they knew how heavy mine were.
I kept walking. I didn’t look back. It didn’t hurt.
There wasn’t hatred in their voices. It was something more corrosive: doubt. Distrust. Like the pedestal they put us on was made of cracked glass.
And still… it didn’t hurt. Not in my heart.
It hurt more knowing that even if I explained it, they wouldn’t understand. That even if they saw my scars, they’d only see a broken statue.
But tonight wasn’t for that.
Tonight was for him.
I stepped out of the station with my heart racing—but not from nerves. Not yet. There was something about Seravenn’s night air that put me on edge. It wasn’t the battlefield kind of fear. Just... the awareness of being small in a city that never truly slept.
I walked along the sidewalk, heading down a dimly lit street. Silas lived nearby. Just a few more blocks.
Then I felt it.
Footsteps behind me. Whispers. It wasn’t paranoia—there were three of them. Walking with that fake casual rhythm, the kind people use when they’ve already picked their target.
—Hey, girl. Out here all alone? —one of them said.
I didn’t respond. Kept walking.
—So quiet —another added—. We just wanna know the time. Or maybe borrow your phone. Or better yet… that bag.
I stopped. The alley was dark, but I could see them just fine.
Three scrawny figures in loose clothes and hoods. One held a broken bottle. Another, a length of pipe. The third had nothing, but his smile was worse than any weapon.
—I don’t have time for this —I said quietly.
—What was that? —the one with the pipe stepped forward.
My hand shook. Not from fear. From something deeper—contained fury.
—I. Don’t. Have. Time.
The first one lunged. That was it.
Instinct took over.
I flicked a small spark of energy from my palm. It wasn’t powerful… but resentment magic doesn’t need to be. It just needs to touch.
He dropped the pipe instantly, howling as his hand flared with bright burns—not fire, but a creeping emotional corrosion that spread like acid. The second guy flinched, but I was already on him.
I kicked him in the chest. He dropped like a snapped twig.
The third hesitated. I looked at him, breathing hard, eyes wide.
—Wanna try your luck? —I asked, voice raw.
He ran.
I turned back to the one with the pipe. He was still on the ground, clutching his hand and sobbing.
I crouched beside him.
And I don’t know why—but I didn’t stop.
I summoned another spark.
Just one more.
—This is for trying to rob me —I murmured.
The spark hissed at my fingertips. I was about to drop it on his arm, just a single drop—
—but then a voice snapped through the alley.
—Lyss!
Silas.
He was there. Just a few steps away. Pale. Sweating. His face lit by the closest streetlamp.
I was still breathing hard. I turned. The spark flickered out.
—Are you okay? —he asked, approaching—. Are you hurt?
I shook my head. I could barely speak. My whole body trembled—not from fear, but from something else entirely: rage.
—I’m… fine.
He crouched beside me, gently touched my shoulder.
—Do you want me to call someone?
—I already did —I lied. I hadn’t. I didn’t care about those idiots.
Silas looked at me for a moment. Not with judgment. Not with fear. Just something sad in his eyes.
—Did they do anything to you? —he asked again.
—They just… triggered me —I whispered.
Because that’s what it was. They’d triggered me. Like a trap.
He offered his hand. I took it. And as he helped me up, my knees still felt tight. He didn’t say anything else. Just pulled me into a hug. For a moment. A second.
—You’re shaking —he murmured.
—It’s not fear —I said.
—I know.
And we walked. As if there hadn’t been screams or pain or flickers of magic. As if I hadn’t been a breath away from losing control.
—Thanks for coming —I said.
—I’d always come for you.
The place he took me to wasn’t elegant.
It didn’t need to be.
A corner diner, with a faded red awning and warm lights hanging from the ceiling. The tables were old wood, some carved with names and hearts. Outside, a flickering sign blinked like it was too tired to stay lit. Despite the hour, people were inside—some laughing through alcohol-heavy breaths, others simply drinking in silence. The scent was a mix of fresh bread, spices, and something fried I couldn’t quite name, but it made me feel… alive.
—They know you here —I said as the man at the counter waved at Silas.
—More than I’d like —he joked, returning the wave—. They’ve saved my life more than once after a night of cheap wine and unnecessary philosophy.
—You sound like an old man.
—You’d be surprised how many lives I lived before I turned twenty.
We sat at a table in the back, near the window. Silas ordered for both of us: spiced broth with sweet bread and black tea. I just nodded, not really knowing if I was hungry… but thankful for the gesture.
—You seem calmer —he said softly after a while.
I nodded.
—Yeah. I think I just needed something human. Something simple.
He reached across the table for my hand. I didn’t hesitate. I gave it to him.
—It’s still hard to believe —he murmured—. That you… are this. So strong. So deadly.
—Does it scare you?
—No.
His answer was quick. No hesitation.
—It gives me respect. But not fear. If anything… I’m afraid that you have to carry it all.
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I didn’t know what to say. I stared at our hands, fingers interlocked. I liked the way it felt. Firm. Human. Present.
—Sometimes I don’t remember who I was before —I whispered without meaning to.
He tilted his head.
—Before what?
—Before I became this. A magical girl. A goddess of war. I can’t remember if I had a favorite color. If I liked the rain. If I had dreams.
I paused.
—Or if I was just made for this.
Silas squeezed my hand gently.
—You don’t have to remember everything today.
—Or tomorrow —I added.
—Or ever, if you don’t want to. But… if one day you want to make new memories, we can do that. One by one.
I smiled.
—That was really cheesy.
—Yeah? —he laughed—. I practiced.
We fell into a comfortable silence as the tea arrived, its steam rising like a veil between us. Silas looked at me like I wasn’t broken. Like I hadn’t just burned someone alive in an alley.
—About earlier… —he began—. The attackers. Do you think it’ll be a problem?
—Maybe —I admitted honestly.
I saw his brow furrow with concern.
So I leaned in closer. I brought his hand to my chest, over my heart.
—But don’t worry. I’ll be okay. I’m not just fire and destruction. I can protect too. I can come back.
He was quiet. He looked into my eyes. Then leaned in slowly.
The kiss was soft, but filled with something that didn’t need words. It was warm. Steady. Like we were telling each other that the world didn’t matter for a moment.
When we pulled apart, I rested my head on his shoulder.
There, in that late-night diner, with the clinking of silverware and the scent of soup in the air, I thought that just for a moment, I wasn’t Lyss the goddess of war.
I was just me.
A girl who had fought too much.
And who, somehow, had found someone who didn’t run away.
We had stayed a bit longer at the diner. Not because the food was anything special, but because… it just felt right. Being there with him, not thinking about what I was, or what I had to do. As if the night didn’t belong to war or crowns. Just to us.
Silas stirred the sugar in his cup, like he was searching for courage in the swirl.
—Can I ask you something now? —he said softly.
I smiled and nodded.
—The mission at the mountains… —he hesitated—. I didn’t want to bring it up before, but ever since you got back, I haven’t stopped thinking about it. Were you okay? Did something happen?
I held my breath.
I could tell him everything. About the ambush, the shot that tore through me, the cold that wasn’t outside but deep in my chest. About how I did it on purpose, to let the rancor bloom.
But not tonight.
—There were fights, yes —I said, lowering my gaze—. But I’m fine. We took care of each other. It was tough, but… we made it through.
Silas looked at me for a few seconds, like he was trying to read between the lines.
—I don’t fully believe you —he finally said with a small smile—. But if you’re hiding something, I guess it’s because you don’t want me to worry.
—Exactly —I said, shrugging—. Why ruin a good night?
He sighed, resting his elbow on the table, looking at me with that tenderness that always undoes me.
—And the next mission? The one in Eiswacht. Are you ready?
—I don’t know —I admitted—. I’m scared. Not just of what might happen… but of failing. Of not being enough. But I have to do it, Silas.
I looked him in the eyes.
—Because if I don’t, I’m not just letting something bad happen to Seravenn. I’d be letting you down, too.
Silas raised his hand gently, cupping my chin.
His lips met mine, slow and steady. It was a long kiss, deep… sweet. The kind that makes you close your eyes and forget how to breathe.
When he pulled away just a little, I let out a small laugh. I felt light, like something heavy had lifted from my chest.
—I really love your kisses… —I murmured—. And if you want more of them, you’re going to have to let me protect you.
He smiled.
—Deal.
We walked out hand in hand, under the soft glow of the streetlamps. The city was already asleep, but for us, the night was still breathing.
At the station, just before I went down the steps, Silas stopped.
—Will I see you one more time before you leave?
I didn’t have an answer right away. So I was honest.
—I can’t promise anything —I said, brushing my fingers against his face—. But I’ll try.
—That’s enough for me.
We kissed once more. Short, but filled with everything we didn’t know how to say.
Then I went down, leaving him behind.
My uniform shifted under my coat, reminding me who I was… and what I was about to do. But for a few minutes, before I crossed back into the world of soldiers and shadows, I had just been Lyss.
And that… was enough.
Getting back was easier than I expected.
The last train dropped me near the side gate, I still had to walk a long distance, the same one I’d slipped out through. The night air was colder now, like it wanted to punish me for sneaking out. I used a touch of magic to soften my steps and vaulted the fence again, heart lighter than when I left. I had seen him. I had felt him. Everything else could wait.
I walked through the dim hallways of the academy, shadows hugging every corner. Most of the lights were out, and the few that remained only emphasized how late it really was.
I was just about to reach our room when—suddenly—something covered my head.
— What the—?!
Before I could react, I was hoisted up like a sack of potatoes.
I kicked in the air, flailed, even threw a random elbow—until a very familiar voice spoke:
— Easy there, married lady! —Velka said, laughing— It’s not a kidnapping. It’s an intervention.
They set me down with a thump and pulled off whatever they'd thrown over me. I blinked, and there they were: Velka and Neyra, both grinning like maniacs. Caelia stood further back, arms crossed… but smiling just slightly.
— What the hell are you doing? —I mumbled, still dazed.
— Serious interrogation! —announced Neyra, eyes wide with mock drama.
— By the power vested in us by the Council of Gossiping Besties —Velka declared, raising one hand as if in court— you are hereby accused of sneaking out for a secret date, of smiling more than usual, and of having suspiciously glossy lips.
— That last one is undeniable proof! —added Neyra, pointing an accusing finger.
— Seriously? —I sighed, rubbing my forehead— You couldn’t just ask?
— Where’s the fun in that? —they replied in unison.
Caelia shook her head softly but didn’t leave. She leaned against the wall, watching quietly like she didn’t want to interrupt… but definitely didn’t want to miss it either.
— So? —Velka pressed, arms crossed— Was it cute? Did you kiss? Were there love confessions? Tears? Did you promise to elope under a waterfall?
I laughed, unable to stop myself.
— We went to a diner. Talked. Ate. It was nice.
— That doesn’t answer the kiss part! —Neyra insisted.
— Yes, we kissed. Several times. Happy now?
Velka clapped silently like she’d just witnessed a masterpiece.
— But —I continued, voice lowering— there was… an incident.
They all went quiet.
— What kind of incident? —Caelia asked, stepping closer.
— Some people tried to rob me. Thought I was just a regular cadet. I defended myself. It wasn’t serious… but one of them will probably remember it for a while. I held back— kind of.
The mood shifted. Velka’s grin faded slightly. Neyra pursed her lips. Caelia nodded once.
— That was an unnecessary risk —she said, without accusation— Not for going to see him. But because you exposed yourself more than needed. I’m not judging you, Lyss. You did what you had to. But things like this can leave marks beyond bruises.
— I know —I nodded— I thought about that too. I just… needed to feel like myself again. Like more than just a mask.
— Sometimes we need that too —Neyra said, taking my hand gently— Just don’t sneak out without telling us. At least let us cover for you. Okay?
— I promise —I said, smiling.
Velka ruffled my hair.
— Well, wifey… go put on your little soldier pajamas and crawl into bed with us. Tomorrow’s training day, and we might have to rehearse our fabulous civilian roles to impress the Mistress of a Thousand Faces.
— Is that what you call the spy?
— Obviously. That woman’s lived more lives than a soap opera —Velka said.
We all laughed together. Caelia turned off the main light while the rest of us got ready for bed. We moved the beds closer again like we had before. There was that warm air of companionship, of hard-earned rest.
I laid down, heart still pulsing from everything the night had brought.
Silas.
The girls.
The wounds no one sees.
And the morning already waiting, silent and sharp.
But for now… I closed my eyes.
And slept.
The next day began differently.
We weren’t just rehearsing with each other anymore, laughing between slip-ups or correcting silly pronunciation mistakes. This time, we were standing in front of her.
Our mentor—the retired spy—watched us from the far end of the room like we were about to take a final exam. She said nothing. Just nodded once, and the exercise began.
The scene: a casual meeting between Aurora Project researchers. A spontaneous greeting, a few formal lines, a reference to a resource shipment, and a light discussion on academic policy in Eiswacht.
It was theater, but with consequences. Every word had to feel lived. Every gesture, practiced to seem effortless. Every emotion… restrained, false, and true at the same time.
We did well.
Velka kept her sweet tone without exaggeration. Neyra spoke like a nervous but precise accountant. Caelia... well, Caelia seemed like she had been born to project authority. And me—though I was trembling inside—I remembered the walks, the words, the mannerisms, even the breathing patterns I’d seen in the footage of Carolin.
When it ended, the mentor crossed her arms and muttered:
—Not bad. Almost... perfect.
She took a few steps, her boots sounding like they were measuring the ground.
—Your “wife” looked at you a little too long when you entered —she told me.
—And you took half a second too long to say “good evening.”
—She turned to Neyra— And you... Lena Bauer doesn’t flinch when signing a contract. She prints it and smiles.
We lowered our eyes on reflex. But then the spy gave a faint smile. A hard curve in her weathered lips.
—That means you’re doing well. For people doing this for the first time… you’re ready to fool just about anyone.
Just as we were about to leave, the door opened. An officer stepped in, followed by a figure impossible to mistake: Ambassador Myra Haldenn. The same iron mask with black tears. The same absolute silence.
Behind her, one of her aides carried a large metal box, sealed with the insignia of the Sixth Veil. They placed it on the table without a word. A click, and it opened.
Inside... were the devices.
The same equipment we had recovered during our last mission—back when Caelia was still in the hospital. They looked like fine masks, thin grey shells without any clear shape. There were four of them.
On top, a handwritten note, marked with a distorted six—an oscillating line that seemed to move if you stared too long.
We read it aloud:
“Technology analyzed and successfully reverse-engineered. The original design has been disassembled and rebuilt with internal materials. Functionality remains the same: when worn, these devices will suppress all active magic, completely nullifying the user's energy signature.
For all sensors in Eiswacht, you will be invisible.
Additionally, we have integrated temporary physiognomic alteration: facial structure and vocal tone will adapt to the visual and phonetic parameters of the assumed identity.
From now on, you won’t just play your characters.
You will be them.
Final recommendation: no mistakes are allowed. Margin for error has been removed.
—?”
Silence. We could hear each other breathing.
—I'll try it —Neyra said, stepping forward.
She took one of the devices. Placed it gently on her face. Barely a second later… the impossible happened.
Her body seemed to shrink slightly, as if the very air reshaped around her. It wasn’t painful. It wasn’t forced. It just… happened.
Where Neyra had stood, now stood Lena Bauer. Same voice. Same face. Even the same tight, focused expression.
—Mother of mercy… —Velka whispered, awestruck.
The mentor approached with her arms crossed.
—If I’d had this in my day —she murmured— Eiswacht would be a Seravenn republic by now.
No one laughed. Because she was right.
The technology was terrifying. And beautiful. And final.
Everything had changed.
—Tomorrow we begin immersive rehearsals —the mentor said—. With these tools, any slip-up won’t look like poor acting. It’ll look like treason.
So we’re going to perfect every word. Every glance. Every silence.
And for the first time… I felt it.
Not fear. Not excitement.
But the certainty that we were already inside Eiswacht—even if our bodies hadn’t left Seravenn yet.