The battle between Velka, Neyra, Caelia, Violeta and Elainne was no longer a ballet—it had turned into raw attrition. The air still burned with the venom left behind by the Dominus Caecum, and each of them pushed their body to the limit, sustained only by sheer determination.

  Eilenne and Violeta were formidable opponents, but even they had been dragged down by the tide—wounded, panting, covered in magical ash. All five combatants knew they couldn’t last much longer.

  —It’s no longer sustainable —said Caelia through gritted teeth, barely holding back a spasm of pain.

  Velka responded with a click of her tongue as she conjured one last containment seal. Neyra, blood dried beneath her eyes, moved forward as if still in a trance.

  Eilenne and Violeta exchanged a glance. Words weren’t needed. They slipped into retreat with the precision of veterans—fast, coordinated, calculated.

  —We can’t let them escape —shouted Velka, stepping forward.

  —Take them alive —Caelia ordered, though her tone was more a formality than an expectation.

  But the shadows of Wei?spiegel vanished among rubble and smoke. Velka cursed softly, though Neyra raised something in her hands: a tablet, still pulsing with residual magic.

  —At least we have this —she said with a bloodied smile. Yet her eyes… her eyes were still searching. Not for the enemy. For her.

  Caelia nodded. —Well done. But now we need to find Lyss. Her trail… it’s not normal.

  Guided by signs of destruction and the lingering magical pulse in the air, they followed the path into the heart of the night. A body appeared in the distance, and Velka and Neyra’s hearts seized.

  They ran. And when they reached it, they exhaled in relief. It wasn’t Lyss. It was Silke Engel.

  The corpse lay twisted, limbs contorted. Even in death, it exuded such dense magic that the air around it seemed to rot.

  Velka took a step back. —Did our shy and sexy goddess of resentment really do this?

  Caelia met her gaze without flinching. —She probably had no choice. Still, we need to secure the body. Her magic could contaminate the area if it spreads.

  Neyra approached in silence. For a moment, no one spoke. They simply looked at one another. Exhausted warriors. Sisters in arms.

  Without further words, they covered the body with a containment shroud and lifted it together. Dawn had yet to come, but the city burned around them—as if it too knew that something had changed forever.

  Seravenn residential complex

  My footsteps echoed through the empty streets, barely lit by the dim glow of the streetlamps. My magical girl uniform was torn, blood-soaked and caked in dust, and my body carried the echoes of battle: bruises, wounds, fresh and dried marks that told the story of the fury I had unleashed. I didn’t know exactly why I went to his house. Only that my feet moved, one after another, until I stood before his door.

  I rang the bell with trembling hands. A moment later, the door opened, and Silas’s eyes filled with a fear I couldn’t explain. His gaze shifted from surprise to worry, from fear to something else—unexpected tenderness.

  Before I could say a word, my legs gave out.

  —Lyra! —he shouted. —What happened to you…? Please, look at me!

  Without hesitation, Silas knelt, gathered me in his arms, and carried me inside. He laid me down on his bed, his warm hands holding me with the care only those who fear losing something important possess. He rushed off for bandages, water, ice… anything that could soothe the chaos on my body.

  As he treated me, his trembling voice asked:

  —Why are you like this? Why are you wearing that uniform? Who are you really, Lyra?

  Between whispers and with my heart bare, I told him the truth: that I wasn’t Lyra, but Lyssandra Velcrux, a magical girl sent on a counter-espionage mission. That yes, I had lied to him—but every word I’d spoken, every feeling that had bloomed, was real.

  —Then… all the rest? When we talked, when we laughed…? —he murmured, his eyes fixed on mine.

  —All of that was real, Silas —I said, my voice barely a whisper. —Every word I told you, every feeling I had… it was really me.

  Silas listened in silence. His eyes held no fear, no disgust, no doubt. Only acceptance, understanding… and that unshakable fire that had always set him apart.

  —Now it all makes sense… —he said, with a sigh. —And even though it’s hard to take in… I’m not going to judge you, Lyss. I won’t reject you.

  My voice trembled as I spoke of what I had done to Silke. Of the rage, the power, of how close I came to losing myself.

  —The way I faced her… I’m afraid of what it means about me, Silas —I said, lowering my gaze. —I didn’t want you to see that side of me.

  And just when I was about to break down into sobs, I felt his arms around me: warm, firm, without hesitation. His voice, soft and steady, said:

  —I don’t care, Lyss. If this is the price of having you here… then I’ll take it. We’ll find a way to keep going.

  That was when I looked into his eyes. And I knew—without a doubt—that I loved him.

  My trembling fingers rested on his cheek, and I leaned in, letting my lips find his. It wasn’t a kiss born of lust—it was born of certainty. Of the need to feel that, after everything, I was still alive. That he was there, holding me.

  His lips were warm and soft, his breath mingling with mine, and every touch was a reminder that, even as the world fell apart, I still had a refuge.

  —Lyss… —he whispered between kisses— you have no idea what you mean to me.

  My hands traced his body, feeling the strength beneath his clothes, the warmth of his skin. His firm abdomen, his solid chest, his back like a wall offering all the comfort I needed. Every touch made my heart beat faster, and for a moment, all the pain seemed to fade.

  Until the physical pain betrayed me, and I let out a faint whimper.

  Silas pulled back, his eyes mirroring the same desire… and the same restraint. With a sigh, he smiled and said:

  —We both want more… but this isn’t the right moment.

  I nodded softly, his words wrapping around me like a blanket.

  —Thank you… for understanding —I whispered.

  He took my hand gently, and with a tenderness that brought tears to my eyes once more, he said:

  —I’ll take care of you, Lyss. Tonight… and for as many nights as you need.

  I lay beside him, letting the warmth of his body surround me. His steady breathing was the balm I needed to finally close my eyes.

  In his arms, for once, the world felt right.

  And so, in that small bed, we fell asleep together.

  I woke up feeling shattered, as if every muscle in my body was reminding me of the night before. The pain was dull but constant—just like the pounding guilt that refused to leave me. I tried to sit up, and a sharp jolt ran down my back. I felt like a poorly stitched doll, every seam on the verge of tearing open.

  When I fully opened my eyes, I found myself facing Silas’s bare back. For a moment, my heart stopped.

  What…?

  I didn’t remember having… no. I remembered everything clearly: the explosion, the cold, the fire of my magic. But this… had something happened between us? I blushed immediately, heat flooding my face like lightning.

  I froze. He was breathing slowly, deeply, unaware of my confusion. Only when I moved a little too abruptly did he open his eyes and turn toward me.

  —Is it morning already? —he asked, still half-asleep. His eyes were barely open, but his smile was so gentle that it made me forget the morning chill.

  Only then did I realize I wasn’t wearing my magical uniform. I had on a mix of civilian clothes and underwear—my uniform had been destroyed during the mission. I felt more vulnerable than ever. Instinctively, I crossed my arms over my chest, as if I could hide from his gaze.

  Silas looked at me, surprised, then let out a low laugh.

  —Don’t worry, Lyss —he said, scooting a little closer—. If you don’t want me to see your beautiful body, I won’t make you.

  And he kissed my cheek. A kiss so brief, so sweet, it made me tremble. I smiled, lowered my gaze, and whispered:

  —Thank you.

  He sat up, stretching with a long sigh.

  —Want me to make some breakfast?

  —No… it’s not necessary. I have to go back —I said in a thin voice. I thought of Velka, of Neyra, of how they’d worry if I didn’t return.

  —Are they… magical girls too? —he asked, curious.

  I nodded.

  —Yes. But… please, don’t tell anyone.

  —You can trust me, Lyss —he said, his gaze steady, like he was handing me a promise. Then he smiled—. Although I never heard of your squad before… and this country loves to parade its goddesses…

  —We’re a new squad. We work in the shadows —I explained—. That’s why no one knows much.

  I stood up carefully, but as soon as I took a step toward the door, he shook his head, amused.

  —You can’t go out like that —he said with a grin—. You look like a praying mantis in a scarf.

  I let out a soft laugh.

  —You’re right. Could you lend me something to wear? I swear I’ll give it back.

  —No problem.

  He rummaged through his drawers. Nothing really fit, but in the end, he found an oversized jacket that nearly reached my knees. I pulled it over me like a soft armor. It was far too big, but it covered me. And suddenly, I felt… protected.

  I had never worn anything that smelled like home. Never felt that something so foreign could feel so much like it belonged to me.

  As I passed by the painting—the one still hanging without a name—I dared to look at it directly for the first time. It was me. It was the Lyss he had seen, even before I knew who I truly was.

  At the door, we looked at each other for a second.

  —Silas… —I said, lowering my voice—. I know my life… everything about me… is full of lies. But I don’t want what we have to be just another one. If you’ll let me… I want this to be real.

  He took my chin, his touch warm and steady.

  —It is, Lyss. It will be —he kissed me—. After all… you gave that painting its name. You’re the perfect muse. I’m willing to wait.

  I smiled, trembling. My heart was beating so fast it almost hurt. I kissed him again—clumsy, scared, and full of something I couldn’t quite name.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  —I love you —he said.

  I swallowed. The air tasted like fire… and honey.

  —I love you too.

  We parted. He stayed in the doorway, watching me disappear into the cold morning mist.

  The morning air was cold, thick like the smoke still drifting through the streets of Seravenn. Every step I took made my bones creak. I felt every wound, every muscle screaming from the strain. It was like waking up drunk—your body takes a while to understand just how much it’s been through.

  The city seemed asleep in that thick fog, but the war had left its signature on every corner. Broken walls, shattered windows, the scent of burned magic and old gunpowder. A silence so heavy it felt more like a scream held back.

  I reached the apartment complex with my heart pounding like a drum. At first, I didn’t see Velka or Neyra. I thought maybe they were still out or had received new orders. I dragged my feet up the stairs, each step a reminder of my fragility.

  I opened the door and was instantly hit by a wave of warm air—and there they were. Velka, Neyra, and Caelia. It was like finding a home I hadn’t known I’d been searching for.

  —Lyss! —shouted Velka, and before I could react, she and Neyra rushed at me.

  They hugged me so tightly I almost fell over. The pain tore a small groan from my throat, but even so… I felt happy.

  —Oh! Sorry! —Velka apologized, patting me gently—. But seriously… you smell awful! —She sniffed my neck like a worried mother and frowned—. Is that… men’s cologne? And this outfit…?

  I blushed instantly.

  —It’s not what you think… —I mumbled.

  —Oh, dear goddess! Did you spend the night with your clumsy messenger boy? —Velka teased, singing the words. Neyra slapped her hand, but she couldn’t stop laughing.

  —Nothing happened! —I said, burying my face in Silas’s oversized jacket.

  Caelia stepped forward and looked at me with her usual calm. Her eyes paused for a second on the jacket. She didn’t say anything.

  —It’s good to see you, Lyss —she said, her voice soft but firm.

  I hugged her, noticing the cold, hard feel of her prosthetic hand. Her hand was no longer warm, but her embrace still was. She was still my rock.

  —I’m so glad you’re okay… —I whispered.

  She smiled.

  —Do you like it? It looks strange, but… maybe it makes me even more intimidating.

  The three of us laughed—a moment of relief among the ruins.

  But the calm didn’t last. Caelia pulled back and looked at me seriously.

  —Tell me what happened yesterday, Lyss. How did you end up like this?

  I took a deep breath and told them everything: the battle with Silke, her overwhelming strength, how she outmatched me in experience. I told them how I forced her back with a desperate calculation… and how, in the end, I had no choice.

  —She said locking her up would only make her stronger. That killing her was the only way… —I explained, my voice lower than I meant it to be.

  Neyra whistled, impressed.

  —Brutal way to end someone, Lyss.

  Velka nodded.

  —Didn’t think the shy... and Gorgeus! goddess of wrath could pull that off. But then again… you are wrath itself, so it makes sense.

  As she spoke, Velka started healing me with her magic. I felt a gentle warmth sweep through my body, like a caress mixing with the sting of my wounds.

  —And yeah… in the end, I went to Silas. He helped me… and I kissed him. —I said it almost in a whisper.

  Velka and Neyra let out an explosion of teenage shrieks, like they’d suddenly turned into little girls at a sleepover.

  —You kissed him!? —Velka squealed, her eyes sparkling.

  Caelia, completely lost, asked:

  —Who is this Silas?

  Velka answered before I could.

  —A cute boy Lyss met at work. Ever since she saw him… she’s been madly in love!

  —It wasn’t love at first sight! —I protested.

  Neyra gave me a sly look.

  —Don’t worry, Caelia. It’s not like Lyss is really in love… right?

  I stayed silent. Neyra waited for me to deny it… but I didn’t.

  Caelia frowned, her voice low and even as always.

  —Lyss, you can’t trust anyone outside your circle. You know that…

  I swallowed.

  —I know. But… please, let me try. It’s something… something beautiful. Something I’ve never felt before.

  Caelia sighed.

  —I understand. I’ve fallen in love before too. But remember: this is dangerous. For you… and for him.

  —I know. I just… I just need you to trust me —I said, my voice trembling.

  Velka, always the first to change the subject, burst out laughing and said:

  —Well, look on the bright side: just imagine all the wrath you’ll be able to summon if he doesn’t kiss you back, or if he’s bad in bed!

  I lunged at her, grabbing a couch pillow and smashing it into her face.

  —Stop talking nonsense!

  Velka laughed hysterically, shielding her head with her hands and begging for mercy. Neyra and Caelia just watched, chuckling quietly, knowing full well Velka had it coming.

  We were still laughing at Velka’s joke when a sharp, martial sound cut through the room: the wall communicator lit up with a golden seal. The voice of Military Matriarch Elore Stryvann thundered into the room.

  —Magical Girl Squadrons, report immediately to the capital’s Tactical Assembly Hall. Attendance is mandatory.

  The silence left behind by Elore’s voice was as heavy as a tombstone. Caelia turned to us, her bones radiating that familiar steel resolve.

  —Five minutes to get ready —she said, the order as sharp as a blade.

  Velka and Neyra nodded and bolted out of the room, their laughter still floating in the air like a perfume fading into silence.

  Once we were alone, Caelia looked at me with those eyes that always seemed to see past the surface.

  —Lyss —she said, not raising her voice—. Do you really want to go through with this… with Silas?

  I was caught off guard. I hadn’t expected something so direct, so intimate. But I took a deep breath and nodded.

  —Yes… I do.

  Caelia crossed her arms, her prosthetic glowing faintly in the room’s light.

  —It’s a dangerous game. And not just for you. That boy needs to understand this… this isn’t a fairy tale.

  —I know —I said, my voice barely a whisper.

  But even so… I love him.

  Caelia looked down for a moment.

  —When I… when I was younger, I trusted people I never should have. I thought love was a shield, but it only taught me it can be the cruelest dagger —she said, her voice deeper than usual. She didn’t tell me the whole story. But what she said was enough to feel the weight she carried.

  —Even so… —she continued—. Love shouldn’t be denied to anyone. It’s something that, if you haven’t tasted it… you should. But don’t forget what I warned you, Lyss. If you go through with this, I’ll support you as much as I can. As a friend.

  —Thank you, Caelia —I murmured, a lump forming in my throat.

  —But —she added, more firmly—, if you get discovered, I won’t be able to protect you. Don’t forget that. This is… conditional.

  I hesitated. For a moment, fear clutched my chest. But then I remembered Silas’ eyes, his smile, the way he made me feel something more than hatred or resentment for the first time.

  —I accept —I said, my heart pounding like a war drum.

  Caelia hugged me. It was a quick, almost abrupt gesture. But in that brief instant, she held me like a sister.

  Her prosthetic hand clenched more than it should, and a yelp escaped me.

  —Sorry —she said immediately, pulling back—. I still haven’t gotten used to this thing. You wouldn’t believe how many cups I’ve broken already.

  We chuckled softly, like two friends who, despite everything, shared a small, fleeting moment of humanity.

  —Go get ready. I’ll wait for you downstairs —she ordered, but her voice no longer sounded so harsh.

  I nodded and went to my room. I took off the clothes Silas had lent me and dressed in the uniform of the Shadow of the Crown —that outfit that reminded me who I was… and who I needed to be.

  When I stepped into the hallway, the cold air hit my face and brought a chilling thought:

  “If they’ve summoned all the squadrons… that means Reia will be there. And Blood of the Throne.”

  My heart skipped a beat, but I held it in. I couldn’t show fear now. I reminded myself: I am the goddess of resentment… and now, also, the one who carries wrath like a hidden blade.

  We left the apartment together, and the morning mist wrapped around us like a cold whisper. Caelia had already called for the military transport: an armored vehicle that looked like a steel beast waiting to devour us. One by one, we climbed aboard, and when the doors shut with a muted click, the silence inside became almost reverent.

  I sat in a corner, hands resting on my knees. My breath formed clouds in the cold air, and I couldn’t help letting my thoughts slip from my mouth.

  —If they’re calling every squad… that means Lumina Umbrae and Blood of the Throne will be there —I said, more to myself than to the others.

  Velka glanced at me, curious.

  —Lumina Umbrae? Reia…?

  —Yes. —I nodded. I took a moment to find the right words—. I met her. Not just at the parade… face to face. We talked.

  The silence in the transport deepened. Caelia barely turned her head toward me, her eyes filled with a quiet surprise. Her prosthetic hand tapped gently on the metal seat —a gesture small but noticeably tense.

  —You… talked with Reia? —she asked, her voice lower than usual.

  I nodded again.

  —She’s… different. She has this aura that makes you want to love everything… but at the same time, it’s like something sticky. Like it leaves no room for you to be yourself.

  Neyra leaned forward, eyes glowing like embers.

  —What exactly did she do?

  —She slowed time. Everything… except us. It was like only our breathing existed. Like everything else… just disappeared.

  Caelia frowned, her voice sharp as a blade.

  —That’s unheard of. A Magical Girl who can distort time… that’s not in any tactical report.

  —Powerful —Neyra murmured, with a faint trace of awe.

  —Creepy —Velka said, arms crossed.

  I swallowed the lump in my throat.

  —Then… what should we expect from Blood of the Throne? —I asked, turning to Caelia. Neyra had told me earlier that she knew more about their leader, Irhena.

  Caelia sighed, as if even the air itself weighed too heavily.

  She didn’t answer right away. Irhena’s name seemed to hang in her mouth, each syllable rough on her tongue. Her prosthetic hand tapped again —this time with no rhythm at all.

  —Irhena is… extremely volatile. Her dominant emotion is uncontrolled rage. Destructive and dangerous. But if she takes a liking to you… she might not break you.

  —That’s comforting —I said with a bitter smile, which made Velka chuckle softly.

  —If they’re calling everyone… then something very, very important is happening —Velka said, her voice tinged with the fake cheerfulness she used when tension was eating her alive.

  —It’s not normal —Neyra added, adjusting the shoulder of her black coat.

  I looked out the transport window as the capital facilities appeared on the horizon, gray and imposing like a fortress of steel. My heart was pounding. I didn’t know what awaited us… but I knew it would change everything.

  The building rose like a colossus of steel and magic, its walls etched with symbols both ancient and ultramodern. Below, the hangar was a living museum: old biplanes from the Great War of Emotions, their wings reinforced with arcane inscriptions, and behind them, the new tactical fighters, gleaming with emotional navigation crystals and magical camouflage systems. Each aircraft was a reminder that Seravenn had always used magic as an extension of will—from the days of honor duels to the silent bombings that split the skies.

  We ascended in a holographic elevator that swallowed us whole and spat us out at the top of the building in a blink. The air was heavy, as if the atmosphere itself knew something important was about to begin.

  When the doors opened, we saw them all. The Magical Girls of Seravenn, assembled in perfect formation. Lumina Umbrae. Blood of the Throne. Each one as distinct as a scar on the nation’s skin.

  At first, I only saw blurred figures, flashes of magic and authority. But then I saw her: Irhena Draeven. Tall—taller than any woman had the right to be—with fire smoldering in her eyes and a body that looked forged from living steel. Her very presence made the air burn.

  I heard a faint sound beside me, barely audible: Caelia swallowing hard. Her prosthetic tapped twice against her leg—a nervous tic she rarely showed in public. I didn’t know why, but that was enough to sense that Irhena was not just a battlefield threat.

  And there was Reia too. Her gaze alone made my heart race. They were all transformed, their emotions made flesh and power.

  I felt... small. Out of place. Until I saw Velka looking around, her confident smile igniting something in me. She transformed as easily as breathing, her runes glowing like embers.

  She inspired me. I let my power flow, though I remembered too late that my transformation was noisy—almost violent. A burst of static, like a misfired lightning strike, echoed as my magical armor sealed itself around me. The crackling filled the room, and suddenly, every gaze turned to me.

  I felt exposed, as if each of them could see my fears and doubts. And in that silence, a deep, powerful laugh rang out—it was Irhena’s.

  —“Interesting,” she murmured with a crooked smile, then looked away.

  The tension broke as Military Matriarch Elore Stryvann entered the room, her posture stiffer than any uniform.

  —“Magical Girls of Seravenn,” she said, her voice as sharp as the edge of a saber. “The situation on all fronts requires your immediate deployment.”

  She paused, her gaze sweeping across the room like a hammer.

  —“Blood of the Throne: central front.”

  —“Lumina Umbrae: southern front.”

  —“Shadows of the Crown: northern front.”

  My heart sank. The mountain range. A cruel terrain where cold and betrayal walked hand in hand.

  —“Shadows of the Crown, remain after the meeting for additional briefing,” the Matriarch added before making a gesture that dismissed us.

  The first to leave were Blood of the Throne. Their footsteps echoed like a war drum. I saw Irhena startle the smallest, most nervous girl from Lumina Umbrae—the one made of shadows—forcing her to flinch back.

  Even so, Irhena walked with an impossible elegance, her hips swaying with a femininity that mocked the fire surrounding her. When she passed Caelia, she looked her up and down, wearing that dangerous, mocking grin.

  —“Bye, gorgeous,” she murmured, sticking out her tongue like a venomous whisper before walking away.

  Caelia didn’t respond. She didn’t even breathe. Her jaw just tightened, as if clenching a memory between her teeth.

  Lumina Umbrae followed. As Reia passed by me, she paused for the briefest moment.

  —“Your transformation suits you,” she said, her voice like a soft hymn.

  My spine straightened on its own. I didn’t know if it was pride... or the fear of becoming transparent under her eyes. I felt the blood rush to my face. When they left, I saw the sweat on Caelia’s forehead and the long breath she released—like someone who had just weathered a storm.

  My magic dissipated like an exhale. I rubbed my face, shame burning in my cheeks.

  Velka nudged me with her elbow and grinned.

  —“Well, Lyss, not everyone gets a compliment from the embodiment of hope. That’s gotta count for something, right?”

  The four of us stepped toward the holographic table where the Matriarch was waiting. The map of the northern front flickered above the surface, with lines of fire and movement glowing in red.

  —Your mission is simple —the Matriarch said—: hold back the enemy advance long enough for our troops to rest and reorganize. We expect your intervention to last only a few hours. After that, you will be reassigned.

  Caelia nodded with the calm of someone who had seen this coming. But Elore Stryvann wasn’t finished.

  —In a couple of days, you will be deployed into the heart of Eiswacht. We’ve recovered fragments of confidential information from the tablet Neyra retrieved… and from what remained of Silke Engel’s emotional core.

  A chill passed through the room. No one dared speak.

  —The codename is Project Aurora —she continued, her voice as sharp as a ceremonial rifle’s crack—. Officially, it’s a program for reconstruction and clean energy. But the Veils don’t trust Eiswacht’s words. Your true task is to discover what Project Aurora really is… and, if necessary, destroy it.

  Her gaze swept across us, one by one. Her tone lowered, but gained a chilling intimacy.

  —If it’s nothing more than what they claim… then return the favor. In their own capital.

  The briefing ended without another word. Elore’s curt gesture was enough to dismiss us like well-trained weapons.

  —You may return to your apartments in civilian clothing —she said—. At 0500, transport will collect you. Be ready.

  We stepped out of the building in silence, magical lights flickering overhead like sickly fireflies. The air felt different. Heavier. Sharper. Maybe it wasn’t fear. Maybe it was the certainty that this war… was going to break us from the inside out.

  And though I didn’t say it aloud, I knew it deep down —sooner or later, we’d cross paths again. With Reia. With Irhena. With everything they represent.