The past, Celestine learned, was like a song that never quite faded. She could hear it in the clink of her sword, in the footsteps across marble floors, and especially now, as her brother stood at the center of the arena, taunting his opponent like a wolf toying with an overeager pup. Erevan... no, Daerik, as she once knew him, had always had a glint of chaos hidden behind that charming smile.
She sat, composed in posture but far from composed in thought, watching from the stands. Rennar leaned beside her, muttering tactical analysis and battlefield critiques, but she barely listened. Her eyes were fixed on her brother. Not the man the world knew as the Mage Slayer, but the boy who once snuck fireflies into her room because she feared the dark.
"He used to laugh, you know," she whispered to Rennar, though it wasn't for him.
He blinked, surprised. "Ah, him?"
She nodded, slowly. "Back then, he was a cheerful bright eyed boy, then father insisted on the name, Daerik. Just a name, but he gave it to him to show that he was much of family as any of us, but deep down he despised him. I remember he too hated him and how father said his name. When he joined our household, he was so different than he is now, so full of kindness. I think we were his first family, that's why he clung to me so much. Arthur was always busy, so he grew to see me as his older sister and his closest friend, and Father... well, he always expected obedience."
Rennar didn't reply. He knew better.
"He was happier back then," Celestine continued, more to herself. "Always smiling. He loved sweet fruit and would climb the orchard walls just to get them for me. I called him my shadow, he followed me everywhere. Then one day... it all stopped."
Her fingers tightened around her gloved hand.
"I didn't know why. We just stopped talking. That was around the time he started going to the capital with Father—training, meetings, all the things Arthur did when he come of age. And when he came back, he was colder. He seemed empty in places. I missed him, Still do... all the time."
The memory came unbidden—two years before she enrolled at Velgrave.
She had sneaked out again, a simple outing beyond the estate walls. She loved the hills, the smell of the open fields after rain. But that day they had been waiting. Cloaked men with iron masks and magic too foul to name. She didn't remember most of what happened but only that they were headed south of the northern territory, escaping the Drakhoras's domain. She had heard this from one of the mystery men during an eavesdropped conversation.
On the second night within the journey, there was an encounter, there seemed to be a battle outside the carriage. She shook her hand restraints, peeked outside, it was dark, clouds parted.
She had to escape the carriage, and she did her heart pounding. Mud soaked her dress, and breath misted in the cold air. Then—
Blood. Three bodies.
And Daerik, barely older than her, standing in the moonlight with crimson staining his silk shirt. His eyes were blank, his blade humming low with the faint breeze.
"I never knew how he did it, the tracking, the ambush," Celestine said louder. "Never said a word. He just walked me back, quiet, in the dead of night."
Rennar's jaw tensed. "Was that around the time, you started to fear him?"
"Well, yes," she admitted as she turnedto face him. "Have you walked a two day hike in silence. I was greatful he saved me, But I saw something that night. Not power. Not rage. I witnessed purpose. The kind that was relentless."
Later – Deep beneath the alchemy ward, in the lab
The cold hum of magic and metal vibrated through the reinforced stone floor. Noir adjusted a lever with finesse, the runes engraved on metal glowing soft indigo. Erevan stood with arms crossed, staring up at the colossal golem suspended by thick chains and magi-tech nodes. It still needs a couple of components, but operational nonetheless.
Tirian Caldwyn lingered at the entrance of the lab, pale and still shaken with disbelief. He seemed like he was beholding god, and loss still weight on him dearly.
"She's nearly done," Noir said, marveling. "A walking executioner. The gears in her arms alone could crush reinforced aether steel."
"And the Aether core?" Erevan asked.
"Not quiet stable. For now. But it'll need an emotional signature to activate the override. I was thinking..."
"No," Erevan cut in. "We give her none. Emotion muddies purpose, having less of it improves productivity by an ample amount. We don't need the override, only needs one thing."
Noir arched a brow. "And what's that?"
He looked up at the machine. "Kill on command."
Tirian flinched visibly.
Noir, smirking, turned to him. "Don't worry, she's not for you. Not unless you mess up the plan."
Tirian opened his mouth, then shut it.
Erevan didn't even glance at him.
He stepped closer to the golem and whispered something. The metal shivered in response. Then, with a nod to Noir, he turned and left.
Noir watched him go and muttered, "A marvelous killer indeed."
Earlier – Celestine's Chambers, after the duel
The councilor's hallway was dim, golden columns standing tall with aether crystal light flickering along. Celestine stood before a stained-glass window, arms crossed, eyes locked on the fading outline of the courtyard.
A tired Rennar walks over.
"You missed most of the celebrations," He said, approaching slowly. His robe trailed behind him, embroidered with the crest of the Sixth seat. "Tirian's sponsors were... less than pleased, it seems turning a blind eye to his embezzlement of funding didn't do us any good."
Celestine didn't turn. "He wasn't ready."
"It was your idea, so... you'll have to take responsibility for this one. He was your candidate."
"So is Erevan, and I never implied he was nolonger my candidate?"
Rennar chuckled. "We can't put him on the council, Celestine. I'm receiving a lot of pushback trying to convince the others to go along. Honestly, most of them feel like we'd be giving the blue coats too much power. He's not even, the most acknowledged out of the bunch."
"He's brilliant," she snapped, turning around. "You saw the fight. He played Tirian like a harp, then gutted the song from him. That's strategy. We don't need them to acknowledged him or build up his popularity."
Rennar paced. "And what happens when they turn on him? He's not like you, Celestine. Some people don't belong to the order."
Her eyes narrowed. "I know, I'm just going to mention him at the meeting, That's that."
"And Arthur?" Rennar asked
A deep silence stretched.
"I personally don't have any option regarding him.
"Ok," Rennar sighed. "Let him prove it at the royal selection. It's in a month. If he prevails there, no one will question his appointment."
She nodded slowly. "Fine. And when he wins,he'll be treated with the respect earned."
Elthar bows . "It will be so."
Celestine's voice lowers as she look out the window. "Erevan."
Back to the lab – minutes later
Noir leaned against a table, twirling a thin screwdriver between her fingers. He watched as Erevan stared at schematics, his eyes calculating.
"You know," He said casually, "Celestine was watching the whole duel. Her and that annoying guy with the fancy attitude."
Erevan didn't react.
"She looked worried. Like you'd kill Tirian."
"I didn't."
"No, but you took his hand off."
He turned slightly. "Yeah, so."
Noir studied him. "She still afraid of you?"
A pause.
Then, "Yes."
Noir nodded thoughtfully. "Good. It means she remembers."
Erevan turned back to the table. "Memories don't matter much now. Results do."
"And yet you're busy, toiling, building a this marvelous golem, just to get as close as you can."
His fingers froze.
Noir smirked. "Thought I wouldn't notice."
He didn't answer.
Final Scene – Celestine's Journal Entry
He doesn't speak to me, not unless he must. But I watch him, like I always did. I see the way he holds back—not out of mercy, but out of fear. He was never meant for us, and the world we ruled, not the one i hopelessly cling to. He's entirely different, from anyone I've known.
When I see him, I remember fireflies. Then the moonlight. Then blood.
And I remember the look in his eyes when he saw me that night. Neither relief nor love. But purpose.
And to this day, I wonder, if I had screamed, if I ran in fear back then... would he have spared me too?
—Celestine Drakhoras.