The Sanctum’s canteen was as sterile as its wards—long, white tables under a ceiling of glowing glass. They sat in a corner, the hum of the city a distant ghost. Grace was halfway through a bowl of broth, her energy returning with every bite.

  "Once we’re done with the grand tour," Grace said, leaning back with that effortless, lopsided grin, "I’m putting my name down for the Attackers. No question. The front line is where the movement is. We’ll be the ones setting the pace."

  Mable froze. Her spoon hovered inches from her bowl, a small ripple disturbing the surface of her soup. She didn't look up. She had assumed, perhaps out of hope, that they would prioritize the Defenders—a sector built on protection, on staying behind a shield. But looking at Grace, seeing the restless heat in her eyes, Mable knew the truth. Grace didn't want to hide. She wanted to be the storm.

  "Attackers," Mable repeated, her voice a flat, hollow note.

  "The riskiest of them all," Caleb noted, his eyes darting between the two of them. He sensed the shift in the air, the way the silence between them was suddenly pressurized. "Statistically, the mortality rate is—"

  "I know the stats, Caleb," Grace interrupted, oblivious to the storm brewing in Mable’s eyes. "But how many civilians have died in recent years? How many knights lost their lives protecting them? Leave that—what if nobody had come for us that night? We can’t just accept that. We need to stand by them. I want to protect the ones who matter without waiting for anyone else's help."

  Mable didn't eat another bite. She sat in a heavy, contemplative silence as Grace and Caleb talked through the logistics of the next forty-eight hours. Sophia’s voice was a recurring ghost in her head: Are you willing to watch her break herself against a wall you can’t climb?

  They stood to leave, the clatter of trays echoing in the empty hall. Mable stopped near the high arched exit, the sunlight from the atrium catching the defiant blue of her eyes.

  "I’m staying," Mable said.

  Grace turned, her brow furrowed. "Yeah, we’re leaving together, Mabes. Next stop is the Defender barracks."

  "No," Mable said, her voice dropping into a steady, immovable register. "I’m staying here. I’m joining the Sanctum. I’m going to be a Healer."

  The silence that followed was deafening. Caleb’s jaw tightened—he looked shocked, yet there was a flicker of realization in his eyes, as if a missing piece of a puzzle had finally clicked into place. Grace, however, simply stared. Then, she laughed.

  "Good joke. Very dry. Let’s go."

  "I’m not joking, Ace."

  The laughter died instantly. Grace’s face went pale, then a dangerous, hot red. "You can't! We made a pact. If you go into the Veil, we won't see you for years. You’ll be locked behind these marble walls while we’re out there. You’re choosing a cage!"

  "It’s not that bad, and I am not asking," Mable countered, her stubbornness rising to match Grace’s fire. "You’re going to get yourself killed on the front lines if you're an attacker. You say you want to protect what matters? Well, I want to make sure I am able to save what matters to me."

  Caleb stepped between them, hands raised. "Grace, Mable—think about the technicality. If Mable is a Healer, she stays out of the line of fire. She’s clearly thought about this. Grace, listen—"

  Grace didn't listen. She turned and stormed back toward the grand atrium, her boots slamming against the marble. She reached the stairs where Sophia and BloomLight stood watching the drama unfold with clinical detachment.

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  "You did this!" Grace screamed, pointing a finger at Sophia. The initiates in the hall stopped in their tracks, whispering as they recognized the white robes of a Council member. "You twisted her head! You’re taking her away from us!"

  "Grace, stop," Caleb hissed, catching up to her, his face flushed with embarrassment. "She’s a Council member, for God’s sake—"

  "I know who she is!" Grace roared, her voice cracking with a raw, childish desperation. For a second, she looked like the eleven-year-old girl from Heaven Heights again. "I don't care about your titles! You can't have her!"

  Sophia didn't flinch. She looked down at Grace with a thin, sharp smile. "The choice was hers, little girl. You are a fire that consumes everything around it. She is simply choosing to be the rain."

  Grace looked toward Mable. She had never seen Mable look this immovable. Desperate, Grace looked at Caleb and then back at Sophia, her voice hitching. "Fine! It’s alright. We can still stay together. We will all be healers."

  Sophia stared at her for a long beat. "I would reject your application. You are unfit for the cloth." She didn't even look back as she began to walk away. "I will not consider this request to join the Sanctum official yet. You are still free to go and explore."

  Grace’s jaw dropped. Did she just get rejected!? Caleb let out a small, stressed laugh. Infuriated, Grace rushed toward Sophia, shouting about all the things she could do, how she could learn, how she wouldn't start fires.

  "Security!" BloomLight called out, realizing Grace was seconds away from snapping the legendary patience of the Council member.

  Caleb grabbed Grace around the waist, hauling her back as two armored guards moved in. "I’m sorry, Archon! She’s exhausted! Grace, move!"

  "Let me go! Mable! Don't do this!" Grace fought the guards, her movements wild and erratic, until they unceremoniously shoved her and Caleb through the heavy front gates.

  The iron bars slammed shut with a finality that felt like a blade.

  Grace sat on the stone steps outside the Sanctum, her head in her hands, her shoulders shaking with silent, angry sobs. Caleb stood nearby, his face weary. He looked at the closed gates, then down at Grace.

  Mable appeared behind the bars. She looked small through the iron lattice. She looked at Caleb first.

  "Caleb," she said softly, her gaze steady. "Choose for yourself. Don't just follow us blindly—you’re stronger than you give yourself credit for."

  Caleb nodded, a somber smile touching his lips as a silent understanding passed between them. "You take care, Mable. We’ll meet again."

  Mable turned to Grace. The sharp edges of her anger and the heavy weight of her fatigue had vanished, replaced by a devastatingly careful affection. It was the look of someone memorizing a face they were afraid they might not see for a long time.

  "Ace," she said, her voice a soft command that cut through the lingering echoes of the hall. "Look at me."

  Grace shook her head, her face buried in her knees. Her breath hitched, her frantic energy dying down into a trembling stillness.

  "Ace, smile for me," Mable urged, her voice trembling slightly. "We don't know when we’ll see each other again. Don't let the last thing I see be your back."

  Grace finally looked up, meeting those blue eyes. Her eyes were red and swimming with tears. She looked small, stripped of her armor. Mable reached through the bars, her hand cupping Grace’s cheek.

  Suddenly, Mable leaned forward, pressing her forehead against the cold iron, and gave Grace a soft, lingering peck on the cheek.

  Grace blinked. The air left her lungs. Her world, which had been spinning in a chaotic storm of anger, suddenly went still. She stared at Mable, her eyes wide, her mouth slightly open.

  "Behave yourself," Mable whispered, a smile touching her lips. "Until we meet again."

  Mable turned and walked back into the shadows of the Sanctum without looking back. Grace remained on the steps, stunned into absolute silence, her hand rising slowly to touch the spot where Mable’s lips had been.

  Caleb waited for a long minute before he reached down and nudged Grace’s shoulder. "Grace. We have to move. The Defender sector is still waiting."

  Grace didn't move for a moment. She watched the spot where Mable had vanished, the sting of the goodbye finally settling into a cold, hard knot in her chest. Then, she stood up. She didn't grin. She just looked at the road.

  "Let's go, Caleb," she said, her voice flat and hollow.