Aura sat on the edge of the bed, wringing a damp cloth between her fingers. Her hands wouldn’t stop trembling. The quiet hum of the kettle did nothing to calm her.

  They were home. They were safe. In light of the interventions the day before, they were even allowed a day off from work.

  But still—she couldn’t shake the thought of her children lost outside the gates, surrounded by smoke and blood.

  Sophie sat beside her, eyes downcast.

  “I’m sorry. I should’ve been faster.”

  Aura turned toward her and caressed her cheek, “Try not to scare me like that again.”

  Marco’s eyes still carried the weight of last night, as did his body. Aura’s chest tightened with every new wound she noticed.

  “You’re back. That’s all that matters,” Bert said, stretching his arms. “Couldn’t both of you pick out safer interests?” He sighed.

  Marco smirked, “Actually… I’ve been meaning to tell you something.”

  Aura’s heart sped up. More bad news?

  “Remember the mage I was working with?” He didn’t wait for a reply. “They… they sponsored me. Full scholarship. I’m starting at the academy in two weeks.”

  The cloth dropped from Aura’s hand. “What?”

  Marco nodded, the smile growing large on his face. “It’s real, mom. I made it.”

  For a moment, she said nothing. Then her eyes welled with tears, and she pulled him into a crushing hug.

  “I’m so proud of you,” she whispered. “Despite everything, you found a way.”

  Marco tensed, as if uncomfortable. “I haven’t done that much.”

  Was it finally the time when her boy would no longer enjoy her affection? He was around that age.

  Aura held him tighter, her scar-covered arms wrapped around him. “Don’t be modest. It’s an amazing achievement!”

  She thought of the money he and Sophie had brought in, how close they were to buying out their refugee status entirely.

  Maybe soon they could move to a better part of the city.

  Somewhere with shelves for books. A courtyard for him to practice. A dining room where Sophie could invite her friends.

  Earlier, she would never even dream of that, and not because of the cost, but because of the fear. Of being recognized. Forced back to her family.

  Aura had cried plenty due to the burns she suffered in the battle for Grainwick… But no noble could ever hope to recognize her looking like this.

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  She finally realized it was a blessing in disguise.

  “I’m so happy.” She kissed his forehead and smiled through her tears. “Things are finally looking up for us.”

  David rigorously prepared for his studies, and two weeks passed in a blink of an eye.

  The morning of David’s first day at the academy was sunny, if a little cold.

  He bid his family farewell and walked alone. His uniform crisp, bag slung over one shoulder.

  A stream of people drifted around. But they weren’t like him. He had made it to the marble towers.

  He went way ahead of time, so he took a slower route.

  As he neared the central square, he heard voices—a crowd gathered, murmuring, shifting. A raised platform.

  A well dressed noble stood atop it, hands spread as if addressing a stage.

  David stopped on the edge of the square.

  Behind the man, two golems stood guard.

  Flashes of corpses piled around shattered marble figures flared in his mind. He shook his head.

  “I stand before you today,” Romuald announced, voice amplified by magic, “as a father who dreams of a better tomorrow, yet almost had to bury his child.”

  David’s stomach tightened. Those were the results of Hiveo’s real plan.

  “I wanted to open our gates to the poor and hurt. Make them workers, not victims. To make Ki-Elico the crown jewel of Minvaryia!” Applause rippled, some booed, but Romuald immediately continued. "But what did I get in return? Snakes, fed by my very own blood. Rebels who dared assault my home, my family."

  Screams of outrage erupted as guards shook their heads in displeasure.

  "We have accepted them among our own. We fed them, we protected them," Romuald thundered from the stage, his voice rattling the bricks. "After spitting in the face of our mercy, have they any right to call themselves human?"

  David saw them—dozens of prisoners ushered forward in rows. Shackled. Slumped. He recognized the barkeep from Mason’s Retreat. A few rebel scouts.

  People he’d eaten beside. Talked to.

  "No," Romuald shook his head with exaggerated flair. "They are vermin. And like vermin, every last one of them must be eradicated."

  Some onlookers turned, walking away. Those that stayed, cheered.

  David froze, as fog covered the world in front of him.

  "I won't give up on my dreams." Romuald’s voice grew distant. “…But first, let us remind everyone what happens to traitors.”

  The executioner stepped forward.

  One by one, prisoners were forced down. Sobbing. Screaming.

  The cheers grew louder.

  David backed away. He didn’t need to see this.

  But then his eyes found her—Dalia.

  Even under the grime, her silver hair made her unmistakable.

  The blade kept rising. Falling. One, by one.

  His knees went weak but he couldn’t look away.

  When it was her time, Dalia struggled against the man twice her size.

  He shoved her down, her screams wild and desperate. Tears and snot covered her face.

  David only turned as the axe rose.

  He ran.

  He ran, but he couldn’t escape it.

  A squelch and a silence among cheers.

  Dalia's voice was gone, never to brighten the world again.

  He stumbled, dizzy as he pushed away. He barely made it out of the crowd before he collapsed against a wall and doubled over.

  Vomit splashed into the gutter below him.

  His chest heaved as he sobbed, shoulders shaking from the weight.

  He struggled up, trying to peer through the fog all around him. A featureless mass of faces was all he could see.

  The academy loomed above them and the price had already been paid.