Yesterday.

  If Lust had embedded itself within the vast sprawl of the internet, then tracking it down would mean navigating its domain.

  And there was one problem…

  Eydis wasn’t deeply familiar with this world’s technology, but she understood the basics. Any irregular activity online would be noticed, given the tight control the system applied to weed out resistance groups. Which meant a single misstep could alert the wrong people and lead them straight to this very dorm.

  How could she track and isolate Lust while keeping herself… anonymous?

  Ah.

  She turned to Astra. “There are active resistance groups against both the Council and the Van Nassaus, aren’t there? Organised, capable ones.”

  Astra, seated at the desk, barely reacted at first. Slowly, she leaned back in the swivel chair and crossed her arms. The white glow of the laptop cast flickering shadows across her face.

  Eydis arched a brow. Waiting.

  “There were,” Astra said after a long pause. “Most didn’t last.”

  “And the one that did?”

  Astra’s crimson eyes darkened. “The Obsidian Legion.”

  “So it’s true.”

  “You’ve heard of them.”

  “More than heard.” Eydis smiled. “Someone once claimed I was one of them. Or rather, that the original owner of this body was.”

  “And you believe them?”

  “They even called me the ‘Queen of Shadows.’”

  Astra’s fingers curled slightly against the desk before she caught herself, stretching them flat again.

  “The Obsidian Legion is a decentralised group of highly evasive hackers,” Astra said. “That’s why the Council couldn’t trace them.”

  “What about the Van Nassau?”

  “Not that we know of. For all we know, they could broker information to them too, but it’s unlikely, given Ares’s reputation for tight control. I can’t see him trusting hackers.”

  Eydis pondered. “How did they manage to evade both the Council and the Van Nassaus, then?”

  “Each member is given small, isolated tasks. No one knows the full plan. That way, even if someone betrays the group, they can’t spill anything that matters,” Astra explained.

  “Especially the leader’s identity.” Eydis lips curved slightly. “Clever. Like the infamous crypto crash event?"

  Astra studied her for a beat too long. “The instructions for that operation were layered through decentralised blockchain relays, making it difficult for the Council to intercept them.”

  Eydis’s eyes twinkled. “You do realise half of those words mean nothing to me.” She laced her fingers with Astra’s, applying just enough pressure for her breath to hitch. “But I do find competence rather… compelling.”

  A faint flush dusted Astra’s cheeks. “The Council ran their quantum decryption models against the Legion, but it didn’t help. The second they detect a breach, the system wipes everything.”

  “So what you’re telling me is that the Council used their fancy technology and still lost?”

  “It wasn’t a total loss. They breached the Legion’s forum for two minutes.”

  “And what did they find to call that a win?” Eydis asked.

  “They pulled a few names before the system collapsed,” Astra said.

  Eydis tapped her fingers against her lips.

  “Most weren’t known to the Council,” Astra continued. “Except for one. Chimera, who’s allegedly tied to criminal activities outside the Legion.”

  Eydis’s fingers stilled.

  Astra’s perceptive gaze caught the movement. “You know them.”

  Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

  “I have an idea.” Eydis had gleaned the hacker’s alias from the ravens’ memories.

  “Do you remember when Natalia and Tiffany’s duel got leaked to the public?”

  Astra frowned. “The Obsidian Legion was behind that?”

  “Chimera, to be precise.”

  “The school’s intranet is isolated, air-gapped. Whoever breached it had to be inside the school or close enough to intercept the network.” Astra paused. “We assumed it was a student.”

  Eydis inclined her head but didn’t say anything.

  Astra’s eyes narrowed. “A Gifted student.”

  “Wouldn’t that be interesting?” Eydis let the word unfurl deliberately, teasing.

  “And you think you know who Chimera is.”

  How sharp. Eydis’s smile didn’t waver. “I have a theory.”

  “You plan to make them work for us?”

  “Mm.”

  Astra scowled. “Tell me you at least have a plan.”

  Eydis leaned closer until her breath ghosted against Astra’s lips. “I could. But where’s the fun in that?”

  “Unbelievable—”

  Eydis silenced her with a kiss long enough to make Astra forget whatever sharp remark she’d been about to throw back.

  “A little suspense keeps things interesting, don’t you think?” Eydis murmured after a moment.

  "Is that a challenge?"

  "Absolutely."

  Astra hummed. “Fine. Try this—get Chimera’s cooperation with less violence, more persuasion.”

  Eydis chuckled. “Now that… that could be fun. Then let me ask you a question. Does the school store student records online?”

  Astra’s eyes gleamed. “No. All records are hard copies, locked in a highly secured, retina-scan restricted archive.”

  “And whose retina is authorised?”

  “Dean Saito and the Principal. Do I even want to know where this is going?”

  Eydis's voice dropped low. “Leverage.”

  “What leverage?”

  “A certain someone kindly demanded no violence,” Eydis purred against Astra’s ear. “Just persuasion. And you know how persuasive I can be.”

  Astra tensed.

  “But…” Eydis’s lips barely grazed the curve of Astra’s neck. “Since I’m being so well-behaved…” Her voice turned teasing. “I expect a reward.”

  Astra swallowed, goosebumps trailing in the wake of Eydis’s breath. “Somehow, that sounds much more dangerous.”

  Eydis’s smile was pure indulgence. “Only if you resist.”

  “It doesn’t sound like we’re still talking about Chimera.”

  “Oh? Perceptive, aren’t you?”

  Astra reached forward, gripped Eydis’s collar, yanked her close into a kiss and swallowed the smug smile from her lips.

  Astra pulled back just enough to say, “Consider that a down payment.”

  Genuine laughter spilled from Eydis, vibrating against Astra’s skin.

  “Just the first room,” Adam said to Eydis and Astra, who were walking behind him through the hallways of Primrose Dormitory.

  He stopped at a door, drew a deep breath, and unlocked it with a key.

  The scent hit them instantly. Astra’s leather boot hovered just above the threshold.

  It wasn’t sweat or laundry detergent or anything else you’d expect from a teenage boy’s room. It wasn’t musty, either.

  It was fresh air, unnaturally so.

  The air carried a scent of damp earth, of the forest after rainfall. The room was cluttered with houseplants of all kinds, which Astra appreciated, for a quick spark of interest lit her eyes. The vines of trailing plants ran along the windowsills to the shelves on both sides of the room.

  But that wasn’t what caused the smell. Because at the center stood a willow tree, and Eydis didn’t mean a bonsai.

  An actual, miniature tree.

  Its roots disappeared into the carpet as if it had grown there naturally. The trunk was slender, and its branches reached up through the overhead light, scattering the glow across the walls in shifting shapes.

  She spotted a desk off to the side with a single framed photo resting on it—Adam and Elias, younger, smiling in their soccer uniforms, arms casually thrown around each other. Back then, Adam had been the taller one. Now, he was barely taller than her. Elias, on the other hand…

  She lifted her gaze, following the line of the tree trunk upward. Perhaps just as tall as this.

  Fascinating.

  “Well,” Eydis murmured, lips curving in faint delight. “Isn’t this… unexpected.”

  Astra simply turned to Adam. “This is your secret?”

  Adam scratched the back of his neck and shifted his weight. “Uh. Yeah.”

  When Eydis ran her fingers along the bark, the tree instantly jerked, its branches twitching and leaves rustling.

  Oh, this is going to be fun.

  “I’m torn, Adam.” Eydis smirked.

  “About what?”

  “Between drawing this out for my own amusement or…” Eydis’s amber eyes sparkled with mischief. “Skipping straight to the part where you start pleading.”

  “She’s going to do both,” Astra noted flatly.

  “Please don’t do both,” Adam muttered.

  Astra’s lips twitched. “You realise she’s enjoying this already.”

  “Unfortunately,” Adam said under his breath.

  “I already am.” Eydis dragged a slow circle against the bark with the tip of one nail. The tree groaned in response.

  “Don’t!”

  Eydis ignored Adam and pressed her palm against the trunk. “Tell me, dear arboreal confession booth, what terribly scandalous, wildly embarrassing undisciplined emotion convinced you that this was the best solution?”

  The willow shivered so subtly that it might have gone unnoticed, if not for the faint vibration she felt beneath her palm.

  Adam shifted again, and Astra’s eyes moved to him.

  Eydis turned too. “Something your furniture would prefer to keep to himself?”

  Adam looked lost for a moment, then tired in a way that said he’d already had this conversation, with himself, over and over.

  “It’s—” He wet his lips. “It’s complicated.”

  “A willow is an intriguing choice, I must say. Resilient. Graceful in its weeping. But also…” Eydis reached up, flicked a branch. It snapped back violently. “Famously flexible.”

  Adam seemed conflicted, his eyes fixed on the ground. Then, finally, he confessed, “It’s Elias. He’s been in the tree.”

  Astra’s expression barely changed.

  Eydis smiled. “How long?”

  “Longer than he should have.”

  “Hmm.” Eydis pretended to ponder. “Do you think he’d appreciate the occasional pruning, Adam? Just a light trim. This flickering shadowplay is a bit much.”

  The branches snapped upward in what could only be read as protest.

  “See? He understands,” Eydis added.

  Adam shot forward. “Eydis—”

  “Eydis, behave,” Astra said, attempting to frown through what was clearly amusement.

  “I am behaving, I’m still waiting on my rewards.” Eydis grinned as Astra went very still. “Besides, I haven’t even sharpened my blade yet.”

  Adam groaned. “Gods, can you please let me explain before you start sharpening things?”

  Eydis nodded toward the tree. “Then, by all means, explain. Why is your best friend engaged in photosynthesis?”

  Adam swallowed. Hard.

  “Oh, don’t tell me you’re already regretting this,” Eydis said, smirking.

  Adam looked very much like he was already regretting this.