Winter’s Rebirth: B1 - 9. The Lady in the Shadows

Winter’s Rebirth Index

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The march south took two hours without the reindeer, trudging through the snow-cursed forest. Victor counted steps through the false snow while a thin trickle of ruby heat kept his body temperature steady.

Powder drifted endlessly from canopies three hundred feet overhead, cloaking the Blackwood in a twilight blizzard, though the sun still stood high. Through that soundless veil they moved, their boots crunching softly. In this forest, silence was golden.

Kaia followed close, one hand gripping his belt between the claymore and bow, the other clutching her axe. His dire wolf cloak hung heavy on her shoulders, torn by frostfeather claws but warmer than what she’d lost.

The blood on his neck had stopped seeping an hour ago. It stayed liquid thanks to the faint ruby warmth he shared with her. Each step cost him soul energy. Every breath of heat he fed into her left less in reserve for whatever came next.

He didn’t complain. She’d earned his respect, and more than that. Still, every time she steadied her breath like a soldier, he hated the world that forced it out of her.

The silence of the Blackwood pressed in, unnatural and watchful. Even the snow seemed to listen. But it wasn’t the frost that weighed heavily on his heart.

He knew what it meant to train teenagers for war. Necessity had demanded it before—back in the world wars of his previous life. The north and the emperor didn’t care about age or innocence.

Victor slowed and looked back at the red-faced girl, breath coming hard, chest rising beneath her torn jerkin. She forced a confident smile, trying to hide the exhaustion and fear, but the faint streaks of dried tears betrayed her.

If I keep letting my heart bleed like this, I’ll get us both killed. I need to focus…

His father had warned him: The frontier eats the unprepared. Better a hard child who lives than a soft one who freezes.

Sound advice. Still tasted like ash.

They found the tracks he had been searching for just an hour before noon.

Two sets of boot prints in powder, barely visible even with amber-enhanced sight. Both heading south from deeper in the forest, moving parallel for maybe half a mile before splitting—one breaking west toward the Iceflow that carved through Blackwood, one continuing east.

Victor knelt, studying the stride length, the depth, the spacing.

“My Lord?” Kaia’s voice was quiet, respectful. “The tracks. There were two of them?”

He couldn’t help a small smile, vision darting to the massive treelines to scan the area. “Keep your eyes up. I need you to watch while I track.”

Her green eyes darted up, refocusing.

“Sorry.”

“You’re doing well, Kaia. Everything I say isn’t a reprimand. Just a reminder…and you’re right. Mara’s been teaching you well. The man whom we saved was in a scouting pair. It’s smart to use a buddy system. Whoever their lord is has a head on them… They’re not trained, though.”

He straightened, guiding them after the set of footprints, stepping inside the imprints as Kaia maintained her sight on their surroundings, looking for threats.

“Hobgoblins ambushed them—not the archer yet—that came later. There was one scout who found them and attacked from the tracks. See the shift and panicked movement. They split in a panic, and the goblin party went after the one who went west.”

“Which leads back to us,” the teen growled, free hand clutching her amber as she tried to keep a very low channel to see. “I’m…feeling numb, My Lord.”

“Soul fatigue,” he mumbled, a grimace coming to his brow. “We’ll likely need to camp in the forest tonight if we don’t find the settlement soon…”

Kaia slowed beside him, scanning the trees. A hollow yawned at the base of a giant trunk ahead, the bark twisted and scorched where something had burned its way in long ago. The tracks led to it.

Victor motioned for silence and crouched to inspect it. The cavity was large enough for two grown men to sit upright, the interior smoothed by knives and fire—someone’s refuge from years past. Inside lay a half-empty water bladder frozen at the neck, a strip of torn cloth, and a few scattered wood shavings. 

“It looks like someone from a past settlement expedition made use of this to hide during the night,” he murmured, brushing the edge of the bladder with his thumb. “The hunter that returned to their settlement rested here before the chase.”

He glanced at Kaia’s unfocused eyes and pale fingers on her gem. “…We’ll use it.”

“But it’s still so early—” she stopped herself, caught his look, and only nodded, cracked lips pulling tight. Her eyes flitted around before speaking up again with a slightly timid voice, “At least let me share your cloak with you, My Lord… If I need rest, you do too.”

Victor ducked inside and suppressed a laugh as she pulled the dire wolf cloak around them both. The warmth spread quickly in the narrow space. Kaia’s shoulders trembled once, guilt flickering across her face as if she’d decided she was slowing him down. This was an attempt to curb her guilt, but deeper than that, a cry for contact to not feel alone.

“That’s thoughtful. Thanks…”

She said nothing, jaw set, then seemed to tell herself to stop thinking that way.

“Rest,” he urged. “Half an hour. No channeling. Neither of us.”

“Thank you, My Lord.”

Her voice was small. She shifted closer under the cloak, shoulder to shoulder. The heat between them and the still air lulled her fast; her head tipped against his shoulder, breath soft and even. Victor let his own channel fade and listened to the quiet drift breathe.

For the first time all day, the snow’s whisper didn’t sound like a threat.

He closed his eyes, resting them but remaining aware. It took much more than the weak channeling he’d done so far or a rapid blitz to tire him out.

When he finally nudged her awake, her eyes were clear again.

“Better?”

She nodded, rubbing her temples.

“A bit… I actually feel totally refreshed.”

“Mmm. You’re not.” He shook his head, peering outside. “Think of your soul like a cup of water. Rest heats it—you can make it boil, use more, push harder. But the more you burn, the less you’ll have when it cools. Every time you feel that lag, you’re running cold and losing that fuel needed to bring it to a boil.”

Kaia absorbed the words, then smiled faintly. “Understood. So…short breaks fill the cup a little, but a full day without channeling is the only way to top it off?”

“Good. Now you’re getting it.” Victor stood, staring at the water bladder as the cloak settled over his shoulders again; he quietly attached it to his belt beneath the wolf pelt. “Don’t worry about me. My cup’s still mostly full—call it somewhere near ninety-four percent.”

“Wow…after all that?” the girl mumbled, suppressing a shiver. “And, umm, what about me?”

Victor cautiously eased out, amber and ruby sparking to life beneath his tunic, blazing his naked skin—nothing moved outside other than the tiny flakes. He’d been right. If they’d gone back, they would never have found the settlement before the path was glazed over.

“That’s something you learn through experience. I couldn’t tell you… Okay. Let’s move.”

He stood, scanning the eastern trail. It led toward thicker tree cover, toward smoke he couldn’t see but could smell now that he let himself focus—faint and thin, carried by the rare breath of wind through the suffocating trees.

“We’re close.” Victor adjusted his bow and pointed east. “Very close. Smoke—maybe two miles ahead. But we don’t walk in blind. If they survived this long, they’re smart enough to have scouts. We move as if hobgoblin archers are waiting in the trees.”

Kaia forced a grin. “Scary thought. What if…they’re hostile?”

“Off the bat? Unlikely,” Victor reassured, setting the pace and channeling more of the amber to enhance his superhuman senses further. “Caution is the rule when dealing with another noble settler group. You don’t know their family, channel level, or unit distribution. They may appear hostile to you, but know it is like a southern quill beast—defensive in nature.”

They moved, Kaia gulping and pressing slightly closer, palm lying flat against his back. They saw giant elk jumping across the forest, moving south.

“So…even if they draw weapons on us if we’re discovered, don’t antagonize?”

“Now you’re thinking like a strategist.” He glanced back to show how proud he was, which got a genuine smile from her red cheeks. “You keep learning at this rate, and you’ll soon be leading the hunters.”

“I’ll do better, My Lord.”

“Just don’t get cocky… Pride is a slow and insidious killer of soldiers.”

“Understood.” Her tone was quiet, steady now, matching his pace through the snow.

Victor’s amber sight pushed ahead through the powder, tracking heat signatures in the dark. Giant birds of some kind, resting in stillness high above, watching but non-hostile. Small mammals hid amongst the snow, utilizing perfect black and white camouflage.

No large threat that drew significant attention; the noble would have dispatched of anything like that if it were this close to their base of operations.

Kaia cleared her throat about ten minutes in.

“Lord…I’m out of my water.”

Victor slowed, frowning as he checked his own nearly empty skin. The one they’d found in the hollow still hung from his belt, almost full. They hadn’t trusted the local water—too much corruption in the cursed north—so every drop had been boiled before refilling.

“We don’t want dehydration before we reach the camp. Here, check this.”

He handed her the bladder, eyes still scanning the drifting powder. Predators lingered high in the trees, yet the forest below felt eerily empty.

Kaia fumbled with the stopper, then lifted it to smell. “It…smells sweet. Like berries. Do you think it’s safe?”

Curiosity piqued, he tilted his hand to get it back. “It could be used for storage rather than drinking. One way to find out…”

He tipped it, letting a single drop touch his tongue before she could protest.

“W-wait! My Lord, I should have sampled it—”

The sweetness bloomed on his tongue, followed by a spreading heat that rolled through his chest and limbs. He lowered the pouch, cutting his ruby channel. The warmth stayed.

“Interesting,” he murmured. “A method of keeping the blood warm without channeling, and with so little consumed. Question is, how long it lasts.”

“My Lord…” Kaia gave him her first genuine glare, a pout creeping in. “You should’ve let me test it.”

He handed it back with a small smirk, resuming his light ruby channel to maintain environmental awareness. The fact that she was trying to reprimand him for being too reckless told him she was recovering and not hiding after the life-threatening conflict. It meant she was getting to the point where she wouldn’t freeze in a life-or-death situation.

“I can burn it out of my system if it were poison. Try a little—only a sip. And trust me a little more.”

“I’m starting to think the general’s right—you’re hopeless at taking care of yourself, Lord Victor… Mmm! I’ve never tasted anything this sweet…and warm,” she mumbled after taking a sample, eyes lighting up. “What is it?”

Victor cast his gaze at the various bushes and foliage in the black forest. “Likely a local alchemic brew… If they have an alchemist, it could be a game-changer. Let’s move.”

The warmth lingered in their veins as the forest deepened.

An hour later, Victor halted.

Kaia bumped into his back, catching herself before a word escaped.

“What—”

He raised a fist.

She went silent, amber brightening as she heightened her own senses—the girl was growing fast in the field.

The forest seemed to hold its breath. Even the snow drifted slower.

Victor’s eyes swept the tree line ahead—massive trunks fading into shadow, branches forming a natural scaffold overhead. And there, barely visible even to enhanced sight: heat movement. A shift in powder fall. The faint body warmth bloom of a body pressed against bark.

Interesting. The signatures are stronger than normal body heat but weaker than a pure ruby channel… His fingers drifted to the bladder at his belt. Sentries using the heat potion. At least three visible. One stronger—ruby-aligned. Probably more in cover.

We’ve found the settlement.

He backed up slowly, pulling Kaia with him. She followed without question, boots finding his prints in reverse.

When they were fifty yards back, he turned south, catching her green eyes.

“A threat?”

“The camp. We’re going around,” he whispered, nudging her head and holding a finger to his lips. “We need to be careful. Few knights can dual-channel stones. Typically, it is a noble thing, but if they can combine amber and ruby, they can see heat, like I can. Careful.”

Victor met her eyes, transmitting how serious this was. “We’ll circle to the south side, see what we’re dealing with before making contact. What’s our goal?”

The teen held up her battle axe and carefully slid it into the holster strapped on the outside of the cloak. “To de-escalate. We’re going to the south, because…it’s likely to be less fortified than the north, where most threats come from?”

“Smart girl,” Victor softly chuckled, seeing the girl do an internal cheer. “They seem intelligent so far. This could be the difference between both of us surviving…or dying. You are a representative of me and our settlement. Think smart. Think fast.”

Determination flashed across her face.

“Yes, My Lord. I’ll follow your lead.”

It took another thirty minutes to circle wide through the forest, moving slowly to avoid disturbing snow or snapping concealed branches. Victor led them to a fallen tree in the south, ancient, moss-covered, lying at an angle against its still-living neighbors. Perfect cover.

Crouching out of sight, he channeled ruby into his hands, melting snow along the trunk’s upper surface, warming the bark slow enough for the steam to disperse without signaling outside notice beyond the powderfall. Then he carved a shallow depression with his knife, just deep enough for them to lie flat, hidden by pine boughs that had grown over the fallen giant’s corpse.

“Up,” he said quietly. “Slow. No sound.”

She nodded, watching him and mirroring as best she could his movements.

They climbed.

Victor settled into the hollow, Kaia beside him. The warmth of the heat potion was burning out, so he took another sip and handed it to the teen to do the same—it appeared to only last around two hours.

His channel bled into frozen wood, creating a pocket of relative comfort. He gestured for her to stay low, then military-crawled through the pine needles just enough to see from fifteen yards above the ground upon the massive fallen trunk.

The settlement spread below them, maybe two hundred yards distant through the powder veil. Victor’s trained eye cataloged everything.

The defensive layout: semicircular, backs against three massive tree trunks that form natural anchors. It’s good positioning.

The northern edge is heavily fortified—wooden palisade under construction, gaps still visible but closing fast. The southern approach is much lighter—just scattered sentries and a low earthwork.

They’ve been busy for just two weeks. Attacks clearly do come from the north, where hobgoblins and worse things prowl. North is still the Iceflow territory, curving through the forest to reach the ocean to our west—are there serpents in the forest, too? That will make it tough to push forward without crafting a bridge. How do the hobgoblins get across?

And fire discipline: a large blaze burning in the camp’s center. It’s too bright, too much smoke. But…

His amber-enhanced vision sharpened as he drew harder on it, bringing an unusual attachment to the flames, more than just smithing zones.

Cooking fires are low and few… They aren’t getting a lot of meat. Forging is going strong; it seems they’ve found metal somewhere. But that station to the east… Alchemic-based, leading to the heart of the bonfire. It looks like they need the excess heat for the heat potions. 

Interesting… They’re opening themselves up to anyone scouting above the treeline for miles, though.

Personnel: Seventy, maybe eighty people visible. Hard to tell with movement.

Victor counted armor—real armor, not improvised leather—on at least twenty fighters. 

Knights or trained soldiers. More than we have by quite a few. And these are reserves—off-watch, not even counting the patrols. Heavy on muscle; support light. Explains the fortification noise.

They don’t seem to be doing well for morale, though, based on the way they’re moving… I can’t blame them. This would be a hard conquest.

The settlement hummed with construction: Axes bit wood, hammers drove stakes, and voices called measurements. It was organized chaos.

Too organized.

Victor frowned, watching a work crew rotate off the palisade—six soldiers moving in perfect sync, replaced immediately by six more. No overlap. No confusion. Just a clean transition.

That’s military rotation. Professional. Who the hell is running this place? Certainly not a fifteen-year-old, no matter how much they’re trained. These are rotations from someone with experience, like old Caldren… They either have had a similar type of commander who willingly joined them…or are a reincarnate.

His gaze tracked to the center, where a canvas structure stood reinforced with woven roots—a command tent, probably. Larger than the others, positioned for visibility and protection over a large root structure that probably went deeper for a makeshift basement.

Victor studied faces, postures, movements. Soldiers looked disciplined but tired. Workers moved with purpose but showed signs of strain—thin faces, slow movements between tasks.

And everywhere, people carried the same bladder he’d collected from the tree hollow.

“Lord, look at those barrels they’re bringing to the fire—the one at the center—are those the warmth draughts?” Kaia whispered, following his gaze.

“Warmth draughts, I like that name. And probably. We need the alchemist’s support. At this point, I’m sure: they’re going to be essential for us to survive winter.”

“For the draughts?”

Victor gently shook his head. “No. They’re good but resource-intensive. With a fragile supply chain and probably low-grade materials, the quality is low. They’re managing but barely. What we need an alchemist for is to find a proper mortar to last.”

He scanned further. Food stores looked stretched—dried meat hanging from racks, grain sacks stacked under tarps that couldn’t be replenished in the forest without massive labor to clear out sections. Clear signs that one bad week could lead to starvation.

And the injuries—Victor counted bandages, limps—one man with his arm in a sling sat near the fire. Recent wounds.

Combat? Construction accidents? Both? They’re bleeding manpower, despite their numbers. Either fighting or building, probably both.

Kaia shifted beside him, getting more comfortable. “They have more soldiers than us… A lot more. Mmm. My eyes are starting to water and hurt…”

“You’re pushing too hard,” he mumbled, shifting to hand her what remained of his waterskin. “Ease back, close your eyes, and rest. Rehydrate. This draught likely makes your metabolism also work faster, which means you’ll probably need to go to the bathroom soon.”

“What? No way… I didn’t even think about it, but I…kind of do need to go, now that you mention it,” she whispered, cheeks coloring slightly.

“If you need to go, be careful and do so out of view from the north. We’ll be here for a while.”

“Okay…”

She quietly drank before setting it down beside him and shuffled back. The teen crawled down the tree to relieve herself as Victor kept a tight watch on their surroundings, making sure she wouldn’t be spotted by some patrol—none came. It almost seemed…too clear.

When Kaia returned, looking more refreshed, he let her wiggle back into the pine brush before watching a squad of armored soldiers hauling logs to the northern palisade. Their movements were efficient, but their faces continued to show exhaustion, and it was not long after noon.

Knights are doing grunt work? That’s not a good sign. They have a ton of channeling, military units, yet the reserves are doing the work of the labor. It makes tactical sense, but it shows a personnel weakness… Your defense is always split and operating inefficiently since they must be directed in unfamiliar tasks.

He glanced at Kaia, arms folded under her chin, squinting past the veil of flakes falling.

If I were alone, I could take out their whole chain of command with the arrows I have… They’re too exposed on this southern flank. 

Victor was about to signal Kaia they were going to approach the southern guards when it felt like he’d gained a hundred pounds—it landed on his back—sudden, impossible, without warning. A knee pinned him, sliding his claymore aside to press into his spine. Cold steel kissed his throat.

“Don’t move. Cut your channel.”

A girl’s voice. Young. Calm. Absolutely in control.

Victor froze. His mind raced.

How?! I didn’t sense anything while channeling amber—shadows…

His ocean-blue eyes darted to the left, where her clothed elbow showed, shrouded in a froathing darkness—just like shadowmane leopards, this teen was an onyx user, and a powerful one, which drove a dozen questions through his brain.

Tickling fingers touched the back of his wounded neck—deft, practiced. They found the clasp of his amulet necklace through his collar. The mechanism was complex, designed to prevent theft—nobles used specialized clips that required specific pressure points.

Half a second was all it took.

The amulet came free. Amber and ruby stones suddenly absent, leaving Victor’s channeling cut off mid-stream.

Shit.

Kaia started to turn, hand going to her axe.

“Tell your companion to relax,” the voice said, blade pressure increasing slightly as she expertly tucked his amulet into something at her waist. “Or you both die here.”

Victor forced his voice steady. “Listen. Don’t move. Don’t react. That’s an order… May I have a name, Miss? We’re not here to cause you trouble but deliver good news.”

Internally, his thoughts were a whirlwind. No one had ever gotten the jump on him this bad. The girl shifted slightly, redistributing weight but maintaining perfect control. Light—maybe a hundred pounds. Small frame. But the way she held him was professional. Trained. A high-level user of shadow magic.

“Good news? Interesting,” the girl chuckled, accent having a sing-songy lilt that resembled the vast, desert eastern kingdom. “Winterhart crest. So the second son was chosen for this settlement decree. Lord Victor, if I know my family lines.”

Victor’s tactical mind worked quickly. 

She recognized the seal. Knows noble heraldry. Knowing my name and position in the family? That’s not guard-level intel. And most onyx users are taken to the Eternal Capital if a knight-level, unless she was hidden from the officials…or a noble daughter herself. 

“Well, My Lady, you know who I am,” he said carefully. “Can I know the name of my neighboring settlement?”

Her hot, berry-laced breath pressed against his ear as she leaned closer, edge pulling tighter against his hairless jugular. “You’re the trespasser, My Lord. I ask the questions. Why are you watching my people? Planning to attack us?”

Victor wore his heart on his sleeve; truth was the best dispeller of doubt.

“One of your scouts stumbled into my settlement earlier today, chased by frost hobgoblins. Wounded. We treated him, then took care of the scouts before making contact. I wanted to know who we were dealing with before stepping into a potentially hostile neighbor.”

He could practically see her lips curve, skepticism coloring her rich voice. “You expect me to believe that when you can dual-wield higher magic stones, you bring a soldier with you? Cast aside your amber, frazzle-hair.”

“No need for name-calling,” Kaia grumbled. “It’s true. We fought hobgoblins on the way. Six of them. They were going to report…to someone, probably.”

Victor constrained a sigh; the girl wasn’t catching the problem.

“She’s not a soldier but a commoner I trained to use amber.”

Silence. The noble girl’s danger pulled tighter to the point he couldn’t even speak without blood being drawn. “That’s an imperial sin, Victor Winterhart…except, we’re not in the empire?”

The shadows along her arm flickered; her tone shifted, as if questioning her own conclusion. Then, it struck Victor; she hadn’t thought of that until this moment.

Another pause. Victor could almost feel her thinking, weighing his words. Then, the pressure eased slightly.

“Your companion—she’s injured. Your torn dire wolf coat, I presume… Blood on her arms. You’re using my fire potion—”

“Warmth draughts,” Kaia cut in.

“Excuse me?”

The sixteen-year-old’s green eyes were daggers in the corner of his vision. “Warmth draught sounds better than fire potion. I’m just saying…and maybe we made it ourselves.”

Kaia… he internally groaned, seeing the teen’s quills prickling. Remember, we don’t want a fight. She’s likely the noble lady of this expedition, and that means she has another magic stone she hasn’t shown us yet. Shadows are already an extremely rare and dangerous one to combine with others…

“Sure,” the noble girl chortled. “But the fact remains… Where did you get it?”

“Your man who ran back dropped it in a hollow we tracked his footprints to. We found it inside. Your man inside our settlement still has his. I’m sure that’s easy enough to verify.

The weight on his back shifted slightly. Reassessing.

“Mmm… Unclip your claymore. Slow. Then your bow. No sudden movements, Lord Victor.”

He complied, fingers finding the sword strap’s release. There was no need for escalation. From everything he’d learned from her so far, she actually needed his help. The claymore slid free; he set it carefully in the snow piled on the broad tree branch they rested on. The bow followed with the girl professionally maneuvering to not give up her advantage.

“Very well. Tell your commoner to collect them. She walks in front. You follow. I’m behind you.” The voice hardened. “Try anything, and I’ll put this through your spine before you can turn around. You know how dangerous I can be, especially without your stones. Understand?”

“Like I said, I’m not here to cause trouble. We’ll laugh at this later.” Victor laughed, trying to dispel the tense atmosphere while glancing at Kaia, who looked resistantly terrified but holding steady. “Do what she says. No heroics. You know our goal is to normalize relations.”

“…Yes, My Lord, but she’s so…prickly!”

“I do have an acquired bite,” the girl giggled. “Come on. Move slowly. No looking back. Hands behind you…”

“Spoiling the fun,” Victor chuckled, tensing as a second dagger’s tip poked through his tunic to press against his lower spine. “You bite, indeed! I’m not resisting, My Lady.”

Kaia nodded, handing over her amber before scrambling down from their hiding spot to gather the weapons. Her hands shook slightly as she slung the bow and carried the claymore, struggling a little with the weight without her channel.

The pressure on Victor’s back eased. He started to rise—slowly, hands visible—and felt the blade track his movement, never more than an inch from his kidney.

Then, he paused, hands held at his back as rope threaded around his wrists. The knot was done in moments, and tight enough to dig into his skin and leave burn marks.

“Come now, My Lady. Can I turn around now? I’ll need to see to walk down this tree safely, and I have my own settlers to worry about. I don’t want to trip.”

“Go ahead.”

When he turned, she was already three steps back.

Fast. Very fast.

The girl was small, perhaps an inch or two above five feet, slight of build, her frame wrapped in dark, fitted clothing made for silence and speed, not nobility. Every thread spoke of precision: no loose fabric, no wasted motion. Her presence alone radiated control.

Her face, light-bronzed and sharp, could have belonged to a doll—if not for the scars of exhaustion and calculation behind it. She’d been operating for days without rest, and obviously, this shadow ambush had taken a lot out of her.

The noble’s long black hair was pulled into a severe tail that shimmered faintly under the veil of frostlight. And her eyes—blindfolded.

Victor’s head tilted. 

They were hidden behind a strip of black silk, not a blindfold exactly—too fine, too deliberate. It caught the light wrong: dull from the outside, textured like woven mist, yet faintly translucent when she turned.

Spider silk. Shadow-spider weave, he internally recognized. An extremely rare product and one only produced in the north from one place. Transparent from within, opaque from without. She puts off the mystique of being blind…but she can see perfectly. A power play.

Two daggers gleamed in her hands—one reversed in a loose grip, the other steady as an accusation. Every line of her stance was coiled balance; she didn’t shift or waver, simply was, as if the forest itself breathed around her.

It wasn’t the weapons or the blindfold that made Victor’s gut tighten.

It was the way she stood.

Weight centered. Muscles relaxed but ready. Not the imitation of a child drilled in posture—but the poise of someone who had killed before and would again without hesitation.

She’s trained as an assassin and warrior, not for court high-life… She was chosen for this path from birth. She’s a reincarnate. She has to be. No fifteen-year-old moves like this. This is the best outcome I could have asked for… This girl is the key to our survival.

Victor offered his most charming smile and a practiced bow, drawing liberally on seven years of noble training under his mother’s watch.

“Lady Ravenshade, I was unaware the Countess Morgana had a third child… Is it good fortune that you were positioned to be so close to your mother’s lands, just to our south?”

The girl’s down-turned lips already looked to have a constant pout, but they soured further at her mother’s name. “Well, aren’t you a smart reincarnate? I would not call it fortune…but a curse. Now walk,” she barked, voice soft but carrying the edge of command. “Kaia first. You second. Straight toward the camp. No detours.”

Victor’s vision widened; the noble girl’s eyebrow twitched with agitation at the slip.

No wonder she hasn’t been more forceful. I never said Kaia’s name… She’s an onyx and amethyst user? Shadow…and mental magic. Her blindfold hides the amethyst glow when she channels. She’s reading my mind right now. 

Bedtime horrors his mother once whispered flashed through Victor’s mind. What she was was impossible. The emperor would never allow it.

How did she survive not being taken to the Eternal City? All amethyst users, noble or not, are inducted into the empire’s Silent Inquisition. Regardless, amethyst and onyx, as incredible as they are…are a terrible combination to survive the north.

I can’t lie…or hide anything from you. Well, this escalates things…and makes things a lot simpler at the same time. Wouldn’t you say?

“No more thinking,” she huffed, but there was a twitch at the corner of her lips, as if acknowledging him for figuring her out so quickly. “Now walk, charmer.”

“As you command, but can I at least get a name, Lady Ravenshade?”

She paused, then sighed, her breath visible; he glanced down over his shoulder as she slid up beside him, noting that she was over a foot shorter—and the knife was mysteriously withdrawn.

“Seraphina, if you must know. And try not to push boundaries too fast, soldier. You already burn my patience.”

“Duly noted. It’s entirely my pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Sera.”

Victor pumped his fist inside as she tilted her head in a way that said she was rolling her eyes and saying, ‘I know what you’re doing,’ yet let the name stick without complaint.

He grinned as he descended the tree her knife somehow appearing at his back—she was very fast—powder veiling them. He was totally vulnerable in another noble’s camp, both physically and mentally…yet, to him, he’d hit the jackpot.

Below, Kaia’s pinched brow stared at them, struggling to hold all the weapons and looking like the girl she was, not understanding the dance two adults in reincarnated bodies engaged in. And that was okay.

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