Blacksword Manor had changed. Klarion could feel it in the air, a subtle shift to the very foundation of his new home. Where once there had been emptiness and the ever-present shadow of what the place had once been, now there was new life. The new staff he had been able to recruit with Coins of Service moved around the manor, taking note of what needed to be cleaned and what rooms needed to have replacement furnishing and new furniture. If they were bothered by the fact that they now were part of the household of a Blacksword scion, it didn’t show.

  Yet, even as he walked the halls of the manor, feeling the difference as it started to feel more filled with life, Klarion’s mind was elsewhere.

  He turned to Hatsune, who walked beside him as he led the way to their bedroom. Her ears flicked nervously, and she seemed somewhat on edge as they went to check on the former Sentinel. For his part, Klarion was not sure why.

  As they approached the door to their bedroom, Klarion found that the door stood slightly ajar, just enough for a thin beam of light to cut into the dim room beyond. Hatsune pushed the door open and went in first, then abruptly stopped just inside the bedroom. Coming up behind the Leporine, Klarion saw what he had hoped to find.

  J-65 was awake.

  And not just awake, she was standing.

  The star elf’s posture was rigid, shoulders squared, fists clenched as she stared at them. With her Sentinel armor gone, she wore only the simple linen and cotton underclothes that had been beneath it. But what struck him most was her face, now alive and exposed to view.

  Her white hair, freed from the mask she had worn, tumbled over her shoulders in loose waves. Her skin, dark as he remembered, had come alive with those same pinpricks of light, now moving at a visible speed across her skin, like the stars in the sky over the course of a long night. Her white eyes were fixed on first Hatsune then him as he entered the room.

  Klarion stepped forward, but before he could speak, J-65 lifted her chin, her voice steady but quieter than he remembered, like a blade that had once gleamed bright but had now been dulled by too many strikes.

  “My words are for the Scion of House Blacksword alone.”

  Hatsune stiffened beside him, eyes narrowing in indignation at what the star elf had said. “You don’t have to —”

  “It’s fine,” Klarion interrupted, heading off what she had been about to say. He put his hand on the tense Leporine’s shoulder. “Give us a moment.”

  Hatsune’s ears flicked back, a clear sign of silent protest, but thankfully she didn’t argue. Still, she lingered for a moment, looking between him and the star elf before stepping over to the door. As she stepped through, she turned, “If you need me—”

  “I’ll call,” Klarion assured her.

  Hatsune hesitated for only a breath longer before stepping away from the door, casting one last wary glance toward J-65. Then, reluctantly, she closed the door behind her with a quiet click.

  Klarion took a step forward, closer to the star elf, but she remained perfectly still next to the bed.

  “You’re awake,” he said, the words falling somewhere between relief and expectation.

  J-65 nodded once. “And you still live.” There was no humor in her voice, only observation.

  Klarion let out a slow breath. “For now, at least.”

  J-65 looked downward, at her own hands. She flexed her fingers experimentally, almost like a warrior gripping a sword for the first time in years, gauging the unfamiliarity of it.

  “What happened?” she asked slowly. “I remember the Lord Sentinel. I remember my mask breaking. And then…” She paused, shaking her head slightly. “It’s fragments. My System messages say that my Sentinel class was removed. My level reset. My stats diminished.” She looked up at him, meeting his eyes. “And that I am now your bodyguard.”

  Klarion nodded, confirming her words. “That’s all true.”

  Something flickered across her face. It was not surprise. Acceptance, perhaps. Almost like a soldier receiving her orders, whether she agreed with them or not.

  J-65’s voice was quieter when she spoke again. “The Lord Sentinel took everything from me.”

  “Not everything.”

  She went still.

  Klarion folded his arms, speaking deliberately, “You’re still alive. You’re still you. And you still have the memories and skills that made you who you were when you still had the Sentinel class.”

  She took a slow breath. Not quite steady, not quite broken.

  “And how did I end up in your service?”

  Klarion held her gaze. “Because of a Mark of Bonds.”

  J-65 blinked, something unreadable in her expression. “You had another?”

  “I earned one in the Dungeon I survived.”

  She said nothing, waiting.

  Klarion took another step closer to the star elf. “The Lord Sentinel offered me a deal. My Mark of Bonds in exchange for your service.” His red-gold eyes darkened slightly. “In recognition of the fact that you acted outside your role as a Sentinel. Not out of duty. Not out of obligation. But because you chose to act on my behalf without my knowing. To protect me.”

  J-65 continued to stare at him, unblinking.

  “And you accepted?” she asked finally, voice quiet still, and careful.

  Klarion nodded. “Of course I did.”

  J-65’s white eyes searched his face. “Why?”

  It wasn’t an accusation. It was something far heavier.

  “You could have taken the Mark of Bonds to go select another bodyguard of your choice,” the star elf continued. “You could have selected someone to complement you and the Leporine, someone stronger, perhaps someone who was ready to claim their class, someone—”

  “There was no way I was going to let you be taken away to be auctioned after what you did for me.” He said cutting her off.

  J-65 stopped, inhaling sharply. She stared at him harder, as if seeing him for the first time.

  Klarion met her stare, his red-gold eyes meeting her white ones, unwavering. “You risked everything for me,” he said with emphasis. “You didn’t have to. But you did. How could I possibly cast you aside like you were nothing after that?”

  The star elf turned away in that moment, staring at the opposite wall. But he still got a glimpse of her face from the side. Something shifted in her. Breaking. Rebuilding. And then—

  J-65 laughed.

  It was soft at first, a breath of disbelief more than anything, then becoming something lighter, something real.

  Bright. Unrestrained.

  Like sunlight breaking through storm clouds.

  Klarion had never seen her smile before, but there she was. Standing before him, stripped over everything she had been but days ago, J-65 was laughing with a smile on her face.

  She looked radiant.

  And while he still was admiring that smile, she turned back to him and spoke of her past. It began slowly at first, but with every memory she shared, the speed of her sharing increased until it was a torrent of words spilling forth.

  She told him of House Blacksword’s fall from grace at the Imperial Academy, despite how it had once been a name that commanded fear and respect in equal measure. She spoke of her service to one Mistress Blacksword, how she had been more than a servant but less than a true companion. How she had been trained in both the arts of the blade and the subtleties of court intrigue.

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  She told him of Valdar Brightcoin, of the poison that dripped from his every word, the way his House had worked tirelessly to see House Blacksword crumble. She spoke of the bid for her at the auction, how she had stood on that dais feeling like little more than chattel, waiting to be claimed by hands she knew would twist her into something she could not bear to become.

  And finally, she spoke of the Sentinels—their harsh discipline, their unwavering code, and the way they had stripped her of everything, even her name. How she had become J-65, a faceless protector of the Imperial Academy, a blade honed by duty and nothing else.

  Through it all, Klarion had listened. Not just politely, but truly listened, his eyes never leaving her, his expression shifting only slightly as she recounted each part of her story. There was no pity in his gaze, no hollow words of sympathy. Only understanding.

  When she finished, there was silence between them. She expected him to speak, to ask something, to press further. Instead, he simply stood, just digesting what J-65 — no, Jezeri - had told him. Her story had been a long one, weaving through years of pain, betrayal, and indignities she had suffered.

  “That explains your motivations, Jezeri,” he said at last. “Why you helped me. Why you put yourself at such great risk. So…” He stretched the word out, wondering how to ask without making light of what the star elf had just shared with him.

  “...what did I find in Scion Copperhand’s residence?” she said for him, her lips teasing upwards. Without hesitation, Jezeri reached into a gap in the undershirt she wore, briefly flashing a glimpse of a stomach toned and covered with scars at him, before Klarion’s attention focused on the folded parchment that she pulled free.

  Jezeri handed it to him, her white eyes watching for his reaction. He took it carefully, and as he opened it, his heart pounded, each word etched in flowing ink drawing him deeper into the web of intrigue that had been woven to catch him.

  It was a ledger of his enemies.

  Names. Titles. House affiliations.

  And at the very bottom, the words of the agreement that had been made to remove him from the Academy by any means possible. Preferably through an assassination.

  Klarion inhaled sharply. Out of all the things Jezeri might have shown him, near the bottom of that list was a complete accounting of all the enemies at the Academy that had been trying to kill him since he arrived. He clenched his jaw, looking over the names again to commit them to memory, his knuckles whitening around the parchment he held in his hand.

  “This…” His voice had gone hoarse, thick with something he couldn’t quite name. “This is incredible.” He looked back up at the star elf. “Jezeri, do you know what this means?”

  Her lips curled further in amusement at his reaction. “I imagine you’re about to tell me.”

  Klarion let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. “You stole a list of every person aligned with Chadwick against me. Though this is a list of names, it is also a map. A way for me to finally begin striking back.”

  The duel with Ort and how it had ended had woken within Klarion an awareness that it would only be when he started striking back that his enemies might begin to be deterred from acting against him. But he hadn’t known how to go about doing so. Now? Now he had something more valuable than gold, more powerful than a dozen bodyguards to fight on his behalf. He had knowledge of who he truly faced.

  The overwhelming weight of it all struck him at once, a moment of clarity so sharp it left him reeling. Without thinking, without hesitation, he surged forward, wrapping Jezeri in a tight embrace.

  For a moment, she stiffened, her entire body rigid against his. Then, before she could relax into it, he felt her tense again — a sharp, involuntary shudder.

  Klarion pulled back instantly, alarm on his face. “Are you still hurt?”

  Jezeri exhaled through clenched teeth, her face momentarily betraying the pain she had tried to mask. “It’s nothing,” she muttered, but the wince she couldn’t conceal told a different story.

  “You didn’t tell me you were still hurt.”

  “I didn’t think it mattered.”

  “It matters to me.”

  The words left his lips before he could think better of them, and for the first time, Jezeri looked taken aback. Her white eyes flickered, then focused on his face again, searching for something. The silence stretched as she looked at him, before finally she spoke again. “I’ve survived worse.”

  “That doesn’t mean I want to see you in pain.”

  A beat passed before Jezeri shook her head. “You should be planning your next move, not fussing over me.”

  Klarion glanced down at the parchment still in his hand. “I can do both.” He looked back up at the star elf. “Besides, I owe you more than just my thanks. You risked your life for me, after all.” But before he could say anything further, she interrupted him.

  “I should leave,” she said calmly, but there was something underneath it — an edge of determination, or perhaps urgency.

  Klarion blinked, surprised. “Leave? You just risked your life to help protect me and lost your Sentinel class in the process. You should rest, Jezeri, not run off on another mission.”

  She shook her head. “No, you don’t understand. This isn’t about what I need — its about what you need.” She gestured toward the parchment in his hands. "You have what you need to strike back at Chadwick, but what you don’t have is knowledge of your House’s movements. I know that no one from House Blacksword has contacted you, and that is deeply concerning. You are a scion of the House. It’s one thing for them to ignore a servant like me, but you? That’s different. That means something is very wrong."

  Klarion frowned. She wasn’t wrong. The fact that no one from House Blacksword had contacted him since his arrival at the Imperial Academy had been bothering him more and more. He had expected… something. But there had been nothing. Still, he didn’t like the thought of her walking into another dangerous situation so soon, and before she even had a new class.

  "And you think leaving is the answer?" he asked.

  She met his gaze, her silver-blue eyes steady. "Not leaving. Investigating."

  "Explain."

  Jezeri exhaled and leaned forward. “As your bodyguard, I am bound to you alone. That bond gives me privileges—privileges that extend beyond this world. I can use a portal to travel to a world where I know House Blacksword has an outlying territory."

  Klarion’s fingers tightened around the parchment. A world. House Blacksword’s reach extended across the stars, but his knowledge of their holdings and territories was practically nonexistent. If Jezeri knew of one about one of their holdings, it was possible she could find out what was going on and why he hadn’t been contacted.

  “And you want to go alone?" he asked.

  "It’s the best option," Jezeri nodded. “And if Chadwick’s people are still searching for me, my disappearance will allow things to blow over. Meanwhile, I can find out what’s happening with your House. If something has gone wrong, I can either send a message to you or return with the information. In the best-case scenario, I might even return with support."

  Klarion considered her argument. It made sense. All of it. And yet, something in him recoiled at the idea of letting her go.

  "How dangerous is this world?" he asked finally.

  Jezeri tilted her head, considering. "It’s not a war zone, but it’s not safe either. Of late, House Blacksword's outlying territories tend to be… contested. If there’s trouble, I’ll know soon enough."

  Klarion let out a slow breath. "And if you don’t return?"

  She smirked. "Then you’ll know I’m dead, and you can add my killers to that list of yours."

  He didn’t smile. Instead, he crossed his arms, studying her. "You’re serious about this."

  "I wouldn’t suggest it otherwise."

  “Alright.” He still didn’t know her that well, but he could already tell that the star elf was stubborn. She would not be deterred from this path, especially if it meant helping him. And that was certainly what it seemed would be the result, regardless of what she found on the world she was going to travel to. “Is there anything you need?”

  “No.” Jezeri shook her head. “I have a stash of supplies and money with the Sentinels. They’ll hand it over to me before I head out.”

  “Alright. Just be careful.”

  Klarion turned to leave the room, Jezeri stepping to follow him. While he had agreed to her plan, even seeing the necessity of it, he still worried about her. He opened the door, revealing Hatsune standing just beyond the doorway, waiting for him to be done with the star elf. Arms crossed, the Leporine stood with ears twitching in clear agitation at being excluded.

  The Leporine’s expression was unreadable at first, but the moment her eyes shifted over to Jezeri, Klarion saw it — the tightening of her jaw, the subtle shift of her weight forward, as though she were preparing for a battle that had yet to be declared.

  Before he could say anything, Jezeri moved from behind him.

  The star elf came alongside him, stepping closer, the softness of her body pressing against his for the briefest moment. And then, with a slow deliberate grace, she tilted her head up as he turned to her, and kissed him.

  It wasn’t a fleeting thing.

  It wasn’t shy.

  It was a kiss made for an audience.

  Klarion stiffened out of sheer surprise. Her lips were warm, soft yet firm with confidence, lingering long enough to ensure that the moment was burned into his memory. But as she kissed him, he also knew her white eyes were open. Locked onto Hatsune.

  It was a message.

  A declaration.

  When Jezeri finally pulled away, there was a hint of amusement in her gaze, a ghost of satisfaction playing at the edges of her lips. She turned, and stepped more fully into the hallway, calling back over her shoulder, “I hadn’t a chance to tell you earlier, Klarion, but I quite liked seeing all your scars.”

  And then she was gone, her footsteps light as she strode with the effortless poise of someone who knew exactly the effect she had left behind.

  Hatsune was so shocked the star elf had to gently nudge her aside.

  Klarion stood frozen for a moment, his mind catching up to what had just happened. His lips still tingled from the contact, his heartbeat a fraction faster than it had been a moment ago.

  But as he watched Jezeri disappear down the corridor, he forced himself not to admire her.

  That restraint lasted all of three seconds.

  Then he turned his head slightly—and found himself face-to-face with Hatsune’s thunderous expression.

  Trouble.

  That was the only word that came to mind.

  The Leporine’s ears twitched again, flicking back in an expression he had learned to recognize as irritation bordering on fury. Her green eyes blazed as she pushed Klarion back into their bedroom, letting the door shut behind her with an ominous click.

  Concern for Jezeri was tempered by the live grenade she had just dropped into his lap.

  This was going to be trouble.

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