The roar of the crowd still echoed as Lukas stepped down from the platform.

  His body felt heavy, but his mind strangely light.

  The Crossing hadn’t broken him — it had only reinforced why he was there.

  I don’t need their approval.

  I just need to make sure Sorriso never falls again.

  In the side corridor, Sarya waited, motionless, amber eyes fixed on him.

  When he approached, she spoke bluntly:

  — You didn’t have to defend me against your brother.

  — I did. — His tone was dry. — I won’t stand still while someone spits venom at you.

  She raised an eyebrow, as if not expecting such firmness.

  Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

  — I’m not used to… that. Being defended.

  — Then get used to it. — Lukas said, walking past her. — Because as long as I’m here, I won’t pretend I didn’t see anything.

  A heavy silence settled between them.

  Sarya stood still, her gaze following his back, and something in her rigid posture softened — just for a heartbeat.

  That’s when Valen appeared — tall as a wall, his red hair glinting in the sunset light.

  He looked Lukas up and down before fixing his eyes on Sarya.

  — Interesting, — he said, his tone dripping disdain. — The bastard’s playing the hero now.

  Sarya turned her face toward him, cold and sharp:

  — Not your concern.

  Valen smiled, crooked and bitter.

  — It’s always been.

  His eyes burned with something close to obsession.

  — You’re from the Outono, Sarya. You shouldn’t let yourself be touched by the shadow of any Fernandes.

  Lukas met his gaze, serious, but didn’t speak.

  Words weren’t needed — his steady presence said enough.

  Valen frowned, then stepped back — only half a pace, but enough to make his retreat sound like poison.

  — Enjoy today’s glory, Lukas. But remember: courage doesn’t last forever.

  He turned and left, the cloak embroidered with red leaves dragging softly across the marble floor.

  Sarya exhaled, as if she’d been holding her breath without realizing it.

  Lukas just kept walking, shoulders straight.

  Inside his mind, César muttered gravely:

  > — “That elf carries poison in his heart. Be careful.”

  Morgana, on the other hand, laughed softly:

  > — “Poison, jealousy, chains… ah, I love seeing you tangled in all of it, chocolatinho. The more they want you, the harder it’ll be to share you.”

  Lukas ignored them both.

  This wasn’t about rivalry.

  Nor obsession.

  The focus was simple, heavy, unchanging:

  Sorriso will not fall.

  End of Chapter 6