I pushed myself up.

My arms were shaking. My legs were barely holding. Tempest was heavy in my hand, heavier than it had ever been, like the blade itself was tired of fighting, tired of blood, tired of the endless cycle of violence that seemed to follow me wherever I went.

Blood dripped from the gash on my chest. My white hair was matted with sweat and blood, clinging to my face in tangled strands, and my vision kept blurring at the edges like the world was trying to fade away and take me with it.

Amelia stood in front of me.

Her staff was raised, her knuckles white where she gripped the wood, and the water spirit swirled around her — a translucent serpent of liquid light that glowed faintly in the darkness, pulsing with a radiance that hadn’t been there before.

Her silver-violet eyes were fixed on the knight, unblinking, unwavering, and her jaw was set in a way that reminded me of who she was before everything fell apart. Before the engagement. Before Arthur. Before I became the person I was now.

The girl who had laughed too loud and talked too much and always dragged me into trouble.

The girl I had lost — or maybe the girl I had pushed away.

She looked different now. Stronger and older. Like she had aged years in the few days since the exam began.

"Good," she said, her grip tightening on her staff. "Because I’m going to need some help with this."

I stared at her. My mind was slow, foggy, thick with pain and exhaustion from the relentless fighting. I blinked, wiped blood from my lip, and tried to understand what I was seeing.

"What are you doing here?" My voice came out rough, broken, barely a whisper.

"I’m here," she said simply.

"No." I stepped forward, placing myself beside her, and raised Tempest. "What I mean is — why are you here? I told you to leave. I told you to take Lyssaria and go. Didn’t you hear me?"

"I heard you."

"Then why are you still here?" My voice rose, sharp and angry, the exhaustion making it worse. "Do you want to die? You’ll only get in my way. Your mana is empty. You can’t fight this thing. Go. Now. Run. Before it notices you again."

I moved past her, stepping between her and the knight, raising my katana.

"Who do you think you are?"

I stopped.

Her voice was quiet — not loud, not screaming, just quiet — and somehow that was worse than any shout, any angry word she could have thrown at me. Because the quietness was not calm. It was the quiet of someone who had been holding something in for a very long time and had finally decided to let it go.

I turned my head and looked back at her.

Amelia was standing where I had left her. Her staff was lowered. Her water spirit had stilled, hovering at her shoulder like a patient guardian. Her silver-violet eyes were fixed on me, and they were not afraid.

They were angry.

They were hurt.

They were tired in a way that had nothing to do with the exam and everything to do with me.

"Who do you think you are?" she said again, and this time her voice cracked. "Why do you always think you’re right? Who made you the one who decides what I can and cannot do? Who made you the one who gets to push everyone away and pretend it’s for their own good?"

"Amelia—"

"You and Arthur." Her voice trembled. "Both of you. Always pushing. Always helping without asking. Always doing whatever comes to your mind, never thinking about how it affects anyone else. Always running toward death like it’s the only thing that makes you feel alive. Like you’re both trying to prove something to someone who isn’t even watching."

I opened my mouth. Closed it. I had nothing to say.

"What about me?" Her voice broke. "What about what I feel? Am I a joke to you? Does my pain not matter? Does my fear not matter? Does my love not matter? Do I exist only to stand on the sidelines and watch while the people I care about destroy themselves?"

I turned to face her fully. Tempest lowered.

My arms fell to my sides. The weight of the blade dragged at my shoulders, but I barely noticed. All I could see was her face — her pale cheeks, her trembling lips, the tears that clung to her lashes like morning dew on grass.

Amelia’s silver-violet eyes were full of tears. The tears were gathered there, trembling, waiting for the moment she blinked or spoke or broke.

I had seen Amelia cry before.

At funerals, when the weight of loss became too much to bear. At political events, when the pressure of being a Nightshade crushed her shoulders. In the garden behind the estate, when she thought no one was watching and I had stood in the shadows and watched her weep for a childhood that had ended too soon.

But I had never seen her cry like this.

Like she was angry at herself for crying at all. Every tear was a betrayal of something she had promised herself long ago.

She took a step toward me. Then another, her boots crunching heavily on the loose rubble until the distance between us vanished.

Before I could even register her movement, her hands slammed against my chest, her fingers tangling fiercely into my collar. She gripped the torn, blood-stained fabric and violently pulled me down to her level.

Her face was inches from mine, her breath hot against my cold skin.

At this distance, I could see every single tear clinging to her lashes. I could see the subtle, violent tremble in her jaw as she fought a losing battle to keep her voice steady.

But most of all, I could see the storm raging behind her silver-violet eyes — a tempest that had been building for years, fed by every heavy silence, every prolonged absence, and every single moment I had turned my back on her and walked in the opposite direction.

"...Tell me, Leo." Her voice was barely a whisper. "What crime did I commit to deserve all this? What did I do wrong? Was it because I loved Arthur? Was it because I couldn’t love you the way you wanted me to? Why is it always me? Why am I always the one left behind? Why am I always the one watching the people I love walk into danger and wondering if they’ll ever come back?"

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t answer.

"Do you have any idea what it felt like? Those seven months you were in that trial — not knowing if you were alive or dead — do you have any idea what that was like for me? For your mother? For Mia? Do you even care?"

"..."

"I get it." She let go of my collar, stepped back and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. Her breath came in short, ragged gasps, and her shoulders shook with the effort of holding herself together.

"You’re angry with me. You hate me. You hate me and Arthur and everything that happened between us. And maybe you’re right. Maybe I deserve it. Maybe I deserve all of this."

"Amelia I.... its no—"

"Let me finish." Her voice was steadier now. Harder. The tears had stopped falling, replaced by something else — something that looked like resolve.

"I know I hurt you. I know I wasn’t there when you needed me. I know I chose him. I know I loved him instead of you. And I’m not apologizing for that, Leo. I’m not sorry for loving Arthur. I’m not sorry for choosing him. Because I never lied to you. I never pretended to feel something I didn’t. You knew. You always knew."

My jaw tightened. My hands curled into fists at my sides.

"But does that mean you get to shut me out?" She stepped closer again. Her hands were shaking, her fingers curled into the fabric of her torn robes.

"Does that mean you get to treat me like a stranger? Like I’m just some noble girl who happens to share your past? I was your friend, Leo. Your best friend. We grew up together. We laughed together. We cried together. We made promises to each other — promises you broke. We were supposed to be there for each other. And then you just... stopped. You disappeared into yourself and left the rest of us behind."

She grabbed my hand. The one holding Tempest. Her fingers wrapped around mine, cold and trembling, and she raised my katana until the tip pressed against her chest.

The steel was dark with blood — not hers, not yet — and it gleamed faintly in the dim light of the ruins.

My eyes went wide. My breath caught in my throat. My hand tried to pull back, but she held on, her grip stronger than it had any right to be.

"If you hate me that much," she said, her voice steady despite the tears streaming down her face, "then kill me. End it here. Right now. If I mean nothing to you, if our friendship was nothing, if everything we went through together was nothing, then kill me. Prove it."

"Amelia, stop—"

"Why? Why should I stop?" She pressed harder. The blade bit into her robes. A thin line of blood appeared, dark against the pale fabric.

"If you want me gone so badly, do it yourself. Don’t push me away. Don’t pretend I don’t exist. Don’t act like I’m a stranger you never knew. If you hate me, prove it. Show me the monster you keep telling everyone you’ve become."

My hands were trembling. Tempest shook in my grip. I could feel the edge pressing against her, the warmth of her blood on the steel, the rapid thumping of her heartbeat through the blade. I tried to pull back. She held on.

"See?" Her voice softened. Broke. "...You can’t."

She let go of my hand and stepped back. Tempest fell to my side, the tip scraping against the stone floor, and I stumbled, barely keeping my balance.

"That’s who you are, Leo." She looked at me through her tears. Her face was pale, her lips were trembling, but her eyes were steady.

"That’s who you’ve always been. A kind person. A stupid, stubborn, infuriatingly kind person. No matter how many walls you build, no matter how many people you push away, you can’t change that. It’s who you are. It’s who you’ve always been."

I shook my head. "You don’t know—"

"I know you think you’ve changed." She cut me off, her voice rising.

"I know you think the old Leo is dead and gone and something else crawled out of that trial wearing his face. But you’re wrong. You’re still you. You’re just... buried. Buried under all that pain and guilt and self-loathing you refuse to let go of."

She stepped closer again. Her hand reached up and touched my cheek. Her palm was warm. Her fingers were trembling.

"You’ve been telling yourself the same lie for so long that you’ve started believing it. That you’re a monster. That you’re a failure. That you don’t deserve to be loved. But it’s not true, Leo. It was never true."

I wanted to look away. I couldn’t. Her eyes held me in place, and for the first time in months — maybe years — I let myself look at her. Really look at her.

Not as Amelia Nightshade, the girl who had broken my heart. Not as Arthur’s lover, the one who had chosen someone else.

But as... Amelia.

My friend.

The girl who had held my hand when I was scared. The girl who had laughed at my jokes when no one else did. The girl who had waited for me, even when I gave her every reason not to.

"You’re still in there, Leo." She pressed her palm flat against my cheek. "I know you are."

The knight roared.

Stone cracked. Ice shattered. The Weeping Knight broke free from the frozen chains that had held it, its eyes blazing with fury, its greatsword raised high. Black tears poured from its helmet in thick streams, sizzling where they hit the stone floor.

The ground shook as it took a step forward. Then another. Then another.

We both turned to look at it.

My jaw tightened. My grip on Tempest steadied. The exhaustion was still there — would always be there — but something else had taken its place. Something that felt like resolve.

I looked at Amelia. Her face was pale. Her hands were shaking. But she did not step back. She did not run.

"Buy me some time," I said.

She blinked. "What?"

"Buy me some time." I turned to face the knight fully. The flames were still there, deep inside me, hungry and patient. "I have something that will kill it. But..."

"But what?"

I didn’t look at her. My eyes were fixed on the knight, tracking its movements, calculating its angles. "The technique has a cost. I need to prepare. And while I’m doing that, I need you to keep it busy. Don’t try to hurt it. Just don’t let it kill me."

Amelia stared at me. Her silver-violet eyes searched my face, looking for something, trying to understand something I didn’t have the words to explain.

"What kind of cost?" she asked.

"...I feel empty afterward." My voice was flat. Matter-of-fact. Like I was describing the weather instead of the gradual erosion of my soul. "Numb. Like someone scooped out everything inside me and left nothing behind. And if I push too far..."

I paused. "I might not come back."

"Leo, that’s insane. You can’t just—"

"There’s no other way." My voice was hard. "Trust me. It’s not the first time I’ve used it. And besides..." I looked at her. My ocean-blue eyes met hers, and for a moment, they were not cold. They were not hollow. They were just... tired.

"If something happens to me, you’ll save me. Right?"

She stared at me. Her jaw tightened. Her hands curled into fists. Her silver-violet eyes burned with something that looked like fury and fear and love all tangled together.

"You’re an idiot," she said. "An absolute idiot."

"I know."

She took a deep breath. Let it out. Her hand found my shoulder and squeezed.

"Don’t do anything crazy."

I almost smiled. "No promises."

Amelia stepped away from me. She raised her staff. The water spirit pulsed around her, weak but willing, tired but not broken. It coiled around her shoulders like a serpent made of liquid light, its scales shimmering in the darkness.

She walked toward the knight. Her steps were slow, deliberate, measured. Her shoulders were straight. Her chin was high.

The knight swung its greatsword. Amelia raised her hand. A wall of ice erupted from the ground — thin but strong, fragile but unyielding — and the blade bounced off, sending shards of frozen water scattering across the courtyard.

She was fighting.

Not with the grace of a trained warrior or the strength of an experienced mage. But she was fighting. Dodging. Blocking. Retreating. Every movement was desperate, every spell was barely held together, every breath was a prayer that the next strike wouldn’t be the one that killed her.

But she was fighting.

I watched her for a moment. Her water spirit deflecting blows that should have crushed her. Ice walls rising and falling like the tide. A girl standing her ground against something that had already killed eleven others with a single clean hit.

She was strong. Stronger than she had ever been.

I had a guess why.

In the game, Amelia became an Apostle later, I thought. Much later. After she had already proven herself. After Arthur had already become the hero. The Spirit Queen was supposed to wait.

But she didn’t wait. She chose Amelia early.

The story is changing. And I don’t know what that means.

I pushed the thought away. I would think about it later. Right now, I needed to focus.

I closed my eyes.

Calm down, I told myself, the words a silent plea against the rising heat. You can do this. You’ve done it before.

The Tear of the Drowned King pulsed against my left ear, a sudden, piercing drop of absolute winter that anchored my drifting focus. It wouldn’t stop the toll, but it would slow the bleeding. That had to be enough.

I reached deep inside myself, pushing past the bone-deep exhaustion and the lingering ache of my injuries, forcing my way straight through the cracked stone walls I had built to keep the dark contained.

The soul flame was waiting for me in the abyss of my consciousness.

It was always waiting — hungry, endlessly patient, whispering in a language of ash and embers. It didn’t offer comfort. It offered a choice.

It wanted to burn the world to a cinder, to shatter every obstacle in my path, to tear itself free from the cage of my ribs.

Let us out, the voices hissed within the fire, their phantom fingers clawing at the fragile edges of my sanity.

Show them what you really are.

Show them the monster you’ve always been.

Every time you held back, every time you chose mercy over destruction—you regretted it, didn’t you?

The nobles who sneered, the Emperor who tried to crush you, the world that called you a failure... burn them. 𝗳𝗿𝐞𝕖𝘄𝗲𝕓𝗻𝚘𝚟𝕖𝐥.𝚌𝕠𝕞

Burn them all.

Instead of pulling back, instead of fearing the heat that threatened to liquefy my thoughts, I braced myself and slammed my entire weight against the floodgates of my soul.

The flames erupted.

They didn’t just flicker; they roared to life, tearing through my mana pathways like a wildfire through dry timber, painting the interior of my mind in blinding shades of brilliant silver.

Every nerve ending screamed as the raw power flooded my veins, but my grip on the reins never wavered. I held tight, using the agonizing heat to incinerate the static in my head until nothing remained but a cold, predatory clarity.

Black fire crawled up Tempest’s blade.

It moved sluggishly at first, then coalesced into a hungry swirl, crackling along the steel before spreading across my knuckles and licking up my forearms. It didn’t scorch my skin; it burned something deeper.

Something that felt like... me.

The whispers inside the ash peaked into an agonizing screech, realizing I was channeling the fire rather than surrendering to it.

COWARD. WEAKLING. YOU WILL BURN WITH US WHETHER YOU WANT TO OR NOT!

I gritted my teeth, my knuckles turning white as I gripped the hilt of my sword. The earring pulsed a fierce, sub-zero counter-pressure against my temple, buying me a single, quiet pocket of air in the middle of the furnace.

No, I thought, cutting through the noise. Not today. Not ever.

I snapped my eyes open.

Across the cavern, the knight was systematically dismantling Amelia. She was losing ground with every breath.

Her ice walls were fracturing into glittering dust faster than she could conjure them, and her water spirit flickered like a dying candle, its blue light dimming with every heavy strike from the monster. Her hands trembled violently as she held her staff, she held together by nothing but sheer desperation.

I moved.

Volt Step erupted through my heels, launching me across the courtyard in a blinding crackle of black lightning. The hunger made me stronger. My bloodline surged, Mana Generation kicking in, Energy Siphon draining the heat from the black tears that splashed against my skin, turning the knight’s own weapon against it.

I dropped low, driving Tempest directly into the knight’s knee. The steel bit deep, fracturing the ancient stone armor. Black flames aggressively poured into the newly made fissure, seeping beneath the plates and voraciously devouring the magic holding the armor together.

The knight stumbled, its massive frame tilting.

I didn’t give it room to breathe.

I struck again. A blurred crescent to the shoulder. A devastating slice across the arm. A heavy, overhead cleave into the chest. Each blow fed into the next, faster and hungrier, driven by a raw desperation and the suffocating weight of everything I had already lost—and everything I was terrified of losing now.

The whispers inside my head crested into a deafening roar, trying to rip the reins from my hands.

BURN IT. BURY YOUR BLADE IN ITS HEART AND WATCH IT SCREAM.

THIS IS WHO YOU ARE, LEO.

THIS IS WHAT YOU WERE MADE FOR.

BURN THEM ALL!

Then, the opening cleared.

As the knight swung its massive blade, its chest plate shifted out of alignment by a mere fraction of an inch — right where the purple glow was brightest.

I brought my katana up in a clean arc, the purple-black flames roaring along the edge, and drove the blade directly into the breach.

The soul flame poured inside like a bursting dam. It flooded the hollow chest cavity, wrapping around the core of purple light and igniting it. The knight screamed. It wasn’t the grating friction of stone on stone or the mindless roar of a beast; it was a human sound.

A pained, agonizing shriek of a soul being burned alive from the inside out.

The mental blast hit me right away. I was flooded with the creature’s sadness — years and years of painful loneliness, years of protecting empty ruins long after its people had turned to dust, crying black tears in a cage of iron.

I felt all of it.

And then, I watched it turn to ash.

The voices in my head went ecstatic, clawing at the walls of my mind.

YES! MORE! FEED US, WE ARE ALWAYS HUNGRY! YOU CANNOT CONTAIN US, LEO.

WE ARE YOU, AND YOU ARE US!

With a final, hollow shudder, the knight collapsed. The ancient armor fractured, falling away in useless, brittle pieces while the massive greatsword shattered against the stone floor. The burning orange glow in its visor flickered twice and died.

But as the armor crumbled, something else shrieked — something detached, lurking right behind the knight’s eyes. A foreign consciousness that had been pulling the puppet strings abruptly fled from the spreading darkness of the fire, dissolving into the deepest shadows of the ruins.

I stood amidst the smoking rubble, Tempest still raised defensively, my arms shaking so violently the blade vibrated. My chest heaved, gasping for cold air. Blood was warm and slick as it leaked from my nose, my ears, and the corners of my mouth.

The flames died. The whispers faded.

...And then there was nothing.

Through the ringing in my ears, I heard footsteps. I heard Amelia calling my name, her voice muffled and distant, as if she were shouting from the bottom of a deep well. The crunch of her boots on the broken stone grew closer, frantic and hurried.

I forced my neck to turn, looking back at her.

Amelia stopped mid-step.

The color drained from her face, her hands flying to her mouth as her silver-violet eyes widened in sheer horror.

She wasn’t looking at a savior; she was looking at a corpse. My eyes, usually a vibrant ocean-blue were completely empty. There was no anger left in them, no pain, no memories, no humanity.

...Just a hollow, bottomless void stretching into nothingness.

"Leo?" Her voice was tiny, trembling with a fear she had never shown around me before. "Leo... can you hear me?"

She took a hesitant step forward, then another, until she was close enough to reach out. Her warm palm pressed against my cheek. My skin felt like ice beneath her touch.

"Leo, please," she whispered, her voice cracking under the weight of the silence.

I blinked once. Twice. My eyes flickered. The blue came back, faint and weak, like a candle struggling to stay lit in a storm.

"Amelia?" My voice was rough and confused. Like I had just woken from a dream I couldn’t remember. "What... what happened?"

My knees gave out.

She caught me before I hit the stone, her arms wrapping tightly around my shoulders, pulling my dead weight against her chest. I felt her tears fall onto my white hair, silent and relentless.

"Don’t you dare," she whispered fiercely into my ear, her voice breaking completely. "Don’t you dare leave me too. Not again. I can’t lose you again, Leo. I won’t. Do you hear me? I won’t."

I couldn’t answer her. The darkness pulled me under, and I slipped into unconsciousness.

The ruins were silent. The knight was gone, reduced to ash and rubble. The purple glow was gone, fled back into the darkness from which it came.

The bodies of the fallen lay scattered across the courtyard, their blood black and thick, already beginning to congeal in the cold night air.

The only sound was the wind whistling through broken stone and the quiet sobs of a girl holding the boy who had burned himself to save her.