Episode 2
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Opening Scene
The flicker of flames danced in Armilla’s palms, casting erratic shadows across her dimly lit room. Her emerald eyes stared at the fire, unseeing, as her mind churned with fragments of the previous night.
Lithia’s laugh echoed in her ears, light and genuine, a sharp contrast to the cold chill she’d left behind. Armilla could still feel it—a lingering frost on her skin, as though Lithia’s presence had seeped into the very air.
Her speed wasn’t human. Lithia hadn’t just moved fast—she’d disappeared, as if she were a shadow pulled into the void. Armilla clenched her fists, extinguishing the flames. She wasn’t afraid, but the memory gnawed at her, stirring something she couldn’t name.
She flexed her fingers, letting the fire return. It crackled softly, reflecting the unease in her chest. She had adapted to Lithia’s movements, her body reacting instinctively, sidestepping and countering with precision she didn’t fully understand. It wasn’t the first time her instincts had carried her beyond her training, but this… this was different.
The memory of Zara’s hesitation after their sparring match crept in, and with it, the image of her own reflection in the flames. The faint red glow around her irises had been undeniable, and Zara had noticed it too.
“What are you?” she murmured to herself, her voice barely audible.
The flames dimmed in response, and she extinguished them with a sigh. There was no point in dwelling on it now. She had another day to get through at the academy—and more questions she wouldn’t find answers to.
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Shadows at the Spire
Far below the towering Valor Spire, Lithia stood near the edge of an aircraft hangar, the faint hum of distant engines vibrating through the air. The chill of the night wrapped around her, but it was a comfort, a familiar embrace.
Her silver hair shimmered faintly under the pale lights as her icy blue eyes stayed fixed on the massive structure above. The Spire was a fortress of vigilance, protected on every level. Yet she had walked through it as easily as a ghost slipping between worlds.
Her thoughts drifted to Armilla. The youngest Valor sibling had been intriguing enough to catch her attention, but last night—and again today during the sparring match—she had seen something more. Armilla wasn’t just strong; she was evolving. Few people could adjust to Lithia’s speed so quickly, let alone counter it.
“What am I doing?” Lithia muttered, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “This was supposed to be simple—a mission, a fleeting curiosity. But now…”
Her wrist vibrated softly, and she tapped the comm device without hesitation.
“Lithia,” came Bjornir’s low, commanding voice. “Report to the Snared Prey tonight. We have matters to discuss.”
Lithia arched a brow. “Matters?”
Bjornir’s tone softened slightly, a rare crack in his formal demeanor. “You’ll see. Don’t be late.”
The line cut off, leaving Lithia in the silence of the hangar. She exhaled, slipping her gloves back on. As her figure vanished into the shadows, her thoughts lingered on Armilla’s emerald eyes, flickering with fire—and the faintest trace of something deeper.
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Scene 1
The midday sun bathed the academy’s sparring grounds in golden light, though the air thrummed with anticipation. Students gathered around the training rings, their excited murmurs blending with the occasional crackle of vibrations in the distance.
At the edge of one ring, Armilla stretched her arms, flames flickering faintly in her palms. Her movements were loose, natural, as if the fire coursing through her veins was simply an extension of herself.
Zara Asetari stood nearby, arms crossed, her sharp gaze fixed on Armilla. A faint smirk tugged at her lips.
“Impressive,” Zara said, stepping closer. “But you’re not just showing off, are you?”
Armilla glanced her way, her lips curling into a grin. “I could say the same about you watching me. What’s on your mind?”
Zara tilted her head, her smirk fading into something more serious. “You don’t just fight—you adapt. It’s not normal.”
Armilla shrugged, extinguishing the flames in her palms. “I don’t know what to tell you. The fire fuels me. I let it burn, and it takes me where I need to go. I don’t think about it—it just happens.”
Zara’s eyes narrowed, her curiosity clear. “It’s more than that. You don’t just adjust—you overcome. While I have to think, plan, adjust—you just… know. It’s infuriating.”
Armilla chuckled, shaking her head. “You’re making me sound like some kind of genius.”
"Maybe you are,” Zara replied, stepping back and slipping into a fighting stance. “But I want to test it for myself. No vibrations—just hand-to-hand. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
Kael Folgath’s sharp voice interrupted. “Are you two ready for something serious?”
Zara turned, bowing slightly. “Instructor Folgath, would you oversee our match? No vibrations, just technique.”
Kael stroked his chin before nodding. “Fine. No powers, no distractions. Keep it clean, and listen for my call.”
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The sparring ring quieted as the two squared off, their stances fluid and balanced.
“Begin,” Kael commanded.
The match was swift and relentless. Zara’s movements were sharp and calculated, each strike precise. But Armilla adapted with unsettling ease, her counters fluid and unpredictable.
Kael’s sharp eyes narrowed as the pace quickened. Armilla wasn’t just countering—she was predicting, moving as if she knew Zara’s attacks before they came.
Zara lunged, but Armilla sidestepped, spinning to strike. The crowd murmured as Zara barely deflected the blow, her breathing heavier now.
“You’re not holding back,” Zara muttered, her voice strained.
“Neither are you,” Armilla replied, her eyes glinting with fire.
The rhythm of the fight shifted entirely in Armilla’s favor. Zara’s strikes grew more desperate, her discipline faltering as Armilla found every opening.
Then it happened. Armilla saw the gap—a fleeting moment of vulnerability. Her fist snapped forward, aimed directly for Zara’s throat.
“Enough!” Kael’s voice thundered, breaking the spell.
Armilla froze, her fist hovering inches from Zara’s neck. The two stared at each other, realization dawning. If the match hadn’t been called, the blow would have landed—and it wouldn’t have been harmless.
Kael stepped forward, his voice firm. “That’s enough for today.”
Armilla lowered her hand, shame flickering in her eyes. Without a word, she turned and left the ring, her shoulders tense.
Zara watched her go, her expression unreadable. She hadn’t seen Armilla lose control—she had seen something far more terrifying: ruthless precision.
From the shadows, Lithia observed, her icy blue eyes narrowing. “She’s evolving,” she murmured, a faint smile tugging at her lips.
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Scene 2
The Snared Prey was a place where whispers carried the weight of life and death. Dim lighting flickered over jagged stone walls, and faint machinery hummed somewhere deep within the hidden base. The air was thick with a mix of metallic tang and smoke, while the murmur of conversations hung low like a predatory growl in the darkness.
Lithia stepped through the entrance with practiced ease, her icy blue eyes scanning the room. Her silver hair caught the occasional light, glinting like a blade unsheathed. Around her, assassins murmured to one another, shifting uneasily at her presence.
“Ghost of Winter,” someone whispered, though no one dared meet her gaze.
Lithia ignored the hushed voices, her focus locked on the black-veiled corner of the room. Beyond the curtain lay the secluded chamber reserved for high-ranking members of their organization.
Bjornir Skaldar waited for her there, his imposing figure lounging in a high-backed chair. The amber liquid in his glass reflected the flicker of candles, and his sharp gaze was fixed on the papers spread before him. Beside him stood Mr. Graey, the siblings’ trusted butler and overseer.
“Lithia,” Bjorn greeted, his deep voice carrying a faint note of approval. “Punctual as always. Sit.”
She slid into the chair across from him, her movements fluid and deliberate. Mr. Graey approached without a word, placing her usual drink before her. Lithia took it, raising it briefly before taking a sip.
Bjornir leaned back, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied her. “You’ve been busy.”
“I’ve completed the mission,” Lithia replied, her tone even. “What do we have?”
Bjornir swirled his drink, his lips curving into a faint smile. “The nobleman you eliminated had just the lead we needed—operatives embedded in Valor. And their targets are… the royal siblings.”
Lithia’s hand tightened slightly on her glass, though her face betrayed nothing. “Specifics?”
Bjornir's expression grew sharper. “Nothing concrete yet. But it’s only a matter of time before they make their move.”
Lithia’s thoughts wandered briefly to Armilla—the youngest Valor sibling with fire in her eyes and a force she barely understood. Her fingers tapped against the glass as she refocused on Bjornir. “And what’s the plan?”
Bjornir’s smile faded, replaced by a deadly seriousness. “We eliminate the operatives before they act. No mistakes, Lithia. This isn’t just a mission—it’s personal. Looks like Valor will have to tolerate our presence for a while yet."
For a brief moment, silence stretched between them. Lithia’s icy composure remained, though her mind churned. If the operatives targeted the royal family, Armilla would undoubtedly be in their sights.
“You seem distracted,” Bjornir said, his sharp gaze piercing.
Lithia met his eyes, her tone steady. “I’m focused. What are my orders?”
Bjornir studied her for a moment longer before leaning forward. “Stay vigilant. If they’re in Valor, we’ll find them. And when we do, we’ll act. Don’t let your guard down.”
Lithia nodded, finishing her drink in one smooth motion. Bjorn rose, adjusting his coat as he moved toward the exit. “Update me as soon as you find anything,” he said before disappearing into the shadows.
Left alone in the veiled corner, Lithia stared at her empty glass. Her resolve hardened, though doubt lingered at the edges of her thoughts. Protecting Armilla would mean betraying her mission—a choice she wasn’t ready to make.
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Scene 3
The academy gardens were quiet, the fading light of the sun casting long shadows over stone pathways. Armilla sat on a bench near the edge of the grounds, her emerald eyes fixed on the flicker of flames in her palms.
The heat of the fire felt alive, almost too much to contain. She clenched her fists, extinguishing the flames as her thoughts spiraled. The sparring match with Zara, the near-lethal blow she’d almost landed—it was all too much.
She heard footsteps behind her but didn’t turn until a familiar voice broke the silence.
“You’ve been quiet all day,” Leius said, his tone calm but questioning.
Armilla looked up, surprised to see her brother standing there. His silver hair caught the last rays of sunlight, and his blue eyes seemed to pierce through her turmoil.
“Hey,” she said softly. “Didn’t hear you coming.”
“That’s because you were somewhere else entirely,” Leius replied, sitting beside her. He waited a beat before adding, “What’s going on?”
Armilla hesitated, her fingers flexing in her lap. “Just… thinking about training. About how to improve.”
Leius studied her, his expression unreadable. “You’re troubled. I can see it.”
Armilla shook her head. “It’s nothing, really. Just… sometimes I feel like the fire moves me instead of the other way around.”
Leius frowned, placing a hand on her shoulder. “You’ve always had a connection to your vibration that’s stronger than most. It’s a part of you, Armilla. Fighting it won’t help.”
“I’m not fighting it,” she said quickly, though her voice wavered. “I just—”
“Don’t understand it yet,” Leius finished, his tone soft.
Armilla nodded, her shoulders slumping slightly.
“You’ll figure it out,” Leius said, his voice steady. “You always do. And you’re stronger than you think.”
A faint smile tugged at Armilla’s lips. “Thanks, Leius. You always know what to say, don’t you?”
“Part of the job,” he replied with a smirk. But his expression grew more serious as he added, “Mother has summoned us. The council is meeting to discuss the nobleman who was targeted by the rumored Ghost of Winter.”
Armilla’s breath caught, though she masked her reaction. “The council? Why now?”
“She believes there’s more to this than rumors,” Leius replied, standing. “And if she’s right, it could mean the Ghost of Winter is closer than we thought.”
Armilla stood as well, her resolve hardening. “Let’s go.”
As they walked toward the Spire, Lithia watched from her vantage point in the shadows. Her icy blue eyes narrowed as she caught the faint edges of their conversation.
“I wonder what she'll do,” she murmured to herself, disappearing into the night.
The Spire loomed ahead, its silhouette stark against the darkening sky. Armilla walked beside Leius, her thoughts a whirlwind of doubt and determination.
“Do you think it’s true?” she asked suddenly.
“Do I think what’s true?” Leius asked.
“The Ghost of Winter,” Armilla said, her voice quieter. “Do you think they’re really here?”
Leius’s expression darkened. “If they are, we’ll be ready.”
Armilla nodded, though unease lingered in her chest. "If only you knew how close the Ghost of Winter really was," she thought bitterly.
The faint chill of the night air brushed against her skin, and for a moment, she felt the weight of unseen eyes watching her. She glanced over her shoulder but found only shadows.
To be continued...
Far above, in the Spire’s highest reaches, Queen Lavicia watched the growing tension in her kingdom with silent resolve.
