Vale’s gaze lingered on the ornate door before him. His eyes were slightly wider than usual, not with fear, but with curiosity. The craftsmanship alone drew attention, polished wood inlaid with silver filigree, runes faintly etched along the frame that caught the light at just the right angle.

  Behind him, the gala swelled louder. Music rose and fell in elegant waves, laughter echoed across marble halls, and dozens of conversations overlapped into a constant hum. It all faded into the background as Vale slowly lifted his hand and rested it on the handle once more.

  'Just one look,' he thought.

  He began to pull,

  A hand settled firmly on his shoulder.

  Vale flinched and turned around.

  Callum stood behind him, tall and relaxed, wearing his usual calm smile, as though he hadn’t just startled Vale half out of his skin.

  “Is everything alright, Vale?” Callum asked, his voice warm and steady.

  Vale exhaled, easing immediately. He let go of the handle and rubbed the back of his neck.

  “Yeah… I think so,” he said. “It’s just, earlier I opened this door and found Tharion inside. But now it’s just showing a brick wall.”

  Callum tilted his head slightly, studying the door with mild curiosity.

  “Hm,” he murmured. “Then he must like you.”

  Vale blinked.

  “…What?”

  “One of his abilities,” Callum explained casually, “is redirecting paths. Doors, corridors, sometimes even entire rooms. At least, that’s what I’ve heard.”

  Vale’s eyes widened a fraction.

  'Redirecting space…'

  Was that similar to the teleportation machinery they used? Or something more personal, more instinctive?

  He doubted he’d ever get the chance to ask. Tharion had already sent him away, and Vale was certain his brother wouldn’t welcome a second interruption.

  Instead, he focused back on Callum.

  “But why would he like me?” Vale asked quietly. “I’ve barely known him for three months.”

  Callum shrugged, still smiling.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe he thinks you’ll understand him best.”

  Vale stared at him, unsure how to respond.

  Callum began to turn away, already preparing to disappear back into the crowd.

  “Wait,” Vale said suddenly, his voice low.

  Callum stopped and turned back, brow raised.

  “Yeah?”

  Vale hesitated.

  'Is it really okay to ask this?'

  He swallowed and asked anyway.

  “What was your fourth trial like?”

  For a long moment, Callum didn’t answer.

  He simply looked at Vale, then chuckled softly, as if the question amused him.

  “Well,” Callum said lightly, “I had to move in a world without motion.”

  Vale frowned, confused.

  “What does that even”

  But Callum was already waving him off, stepping backward into the throng of guests. Within seconds, he vanished into the crowd as if he’d never been there at all.

  Vale let out a heavy sigh and turned, following the wall back toward the quieter rooms where the noise of the gala dulled.

  “Moving in a world without motion…” he muttered to himself. “How would that even be possible?”

  Chrome’s voice surfaced in his mind, smooth and metallic.

  “Fourth trials are typically trials of defiance,” Chrome said.

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  Vale raised an eyebrow as he walked.

  “Defiance of what, exactly?”

  Chrome paused, processing.

  “From available data, most fourth trials involve denying the plane its perceived perfection and instead embracing human imperfection. Flaws. Limitations. If you accept those, you pass. If you do not… you fail.”

  Vale slowed his steps, thinking.

  By the time he reached the room again, the door stood closed.

  “I see,” he murmured.

  He opened it and stepped inside.

  The room was quiet.

  Ember lay sprawled across the floor, her massive body occupying nearly half the space. The smaller ravens, rested comfortably atop her back, curled up as though he were nothing more than a living mattress. Ember’s breathing was slow and even, a deep rumble filling the room.

  As Vale entered, the door closed on its own behind him.

  He took a few steps forward, then stopped.

  Something felt… wrong.

  Vale turned toward a blind corner of the room.

  His eyes widened.

  Yuki had Caesar pinned against the wall.

  Not arguing. Not fighting.

  Pinned.

  Both of them froze when they noticed Vale.

  Caesar’s expression was caught somewhere between embarrassment and panic. Yuki’s was unreadable, cold, sharp, and very aware of the situation.

  Silence fell.

  Thick and suffocating.

  Minutes seemed to pass, broken only by the distant music leaking through the walls.

  Slowly, Vale turned toward the door.

  'Nope.'

  He took a step.

  Suddenly, Yuki grabbed him from behind.

  “Hey!” Vale yelped as she dragged him backward with terrifying ease. He struggled instinctively, but the difference in strength was overwhelming. Within seconds, he gave up.

  Yuki shoved him down onto a leather chair.

  She stood before him, arms crossed, staring.

  Caesar stepped closer, running a hand through his disheveled brown hair. A fresh smear of lipstick marked his cheek. He cleared his throat.

  “So,” Caesar said awkwardly, “we’d really appreciate it if you could keep our relationship… a secret.”

  Vale glanced between them, deeply uncomfortable.

  Yuki’s stare didn’t waver.

  It was hollow. Calculating.

  Terrifying.

  “…Yeah,” Vale said quickly. “Sure.”

  Caesar visibly relaxed and wrapped an arm around Yuki’s shoulders.

  “See, love? You don’t have to kill them every time this happens.”

  Yuki didn’t respond.

  She kept staring at Vale.

  The tension thickened.

  Vale slowly stood, eager to escape without asking any questions that might get him murdered.

  Then

  An icy blade formed instantly in Yuki’s hand and slammed into the wooden table in front of him.

  The crack echoed through the room.

  Vale froze. His heart skipped a beat.

  “If anything gets out,” Yuki said calmly, “I’ll know it was you.”

  Vale swallowed hard, forcing his voice steady.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  He turned and left immediately.

  Behind him, Yuki’s gaze followed until the door closed.

  As the door closed behind him, Vale let out a heavy sigh.

  For a moment, he simply stood there, shoulders slumped, listening to the muffled music and distant laughter bleeding through the walls. The gala had barely begun for him, yet it already felt as though every possible inconvenience, and embarrassment, had found its way directly into his path.

  He dragged a hand through his hair and took a slow, deliberate breath.

  'Alright,' he told himself, straightening his posture. 'The gala has only just started. Things will get better from here… right?'

  The thought wasn’t entirely convincing, but he clung to it anyway as he stepped back into the crowd.

  The hall was alive, crystal chandeliers shimmered overhead, silken dresses and tailored suits moved in practiced grace, and conversations flowed like well-rehearsed performances. Somewhere near the center, Vale spotted Evelyn. She stood tall and composed, shaking hands with men and women alike, her voice calm and authoritative as she navigated what was clearly a web of business discussions and political pleasantries.

  Vale watched her for a moment.

  She looked perfectly at home.

  He wasn’t.

  Deciding not to interrupt, Vale turned away and made his way toward the balcony, craving distance from the noise more than company.

  As he walked, Chrome’s voice surfaced in his mind.

  “You alright, Vale?”

  Vale exhaled slowly.

  “Yeah,” he replied quietly, weaving between guests. “I just need some fresh air.”

  Chrome didn’t press him any further.

  When Vale finally reached the balcony, he stepped up to the railing and rested his hands against the cool stone. He leaned forward slightly and inhaled deeply.

  The world beyond the gala opened up before him.

  They stood atop a towering cliff, overlooking a vast meadow that stretched endlessly below, its tall grass swaying gently in the night wind. Beyond that lay the ocean, dark, endless, and calm, reflecting the moonlight in long silver trails that vanished into the horizon.

  Vale smiled faintly.

  He closed his eyes, letting the breeze wash over him, carrying away the weight of the evening, if only for a moment.

  Peace settled in.

  Then, music swelled behind him.

  Louder. Closer.

  Vale turned around.

  Approaching him was a tall girl with black hair streaked with deep yellow highlights that caught the light with every step. Her crimson dress shimmered as though it had been woven from embers themselves, hugging her frame perfectly. Confidence radiated from her posture.

  Nym.

  Vale leaned back against the balcony rail as she stopped a few meters away. Their eyes met, and matching grins formed almost instinctively.

  Silence stretched between them.

  Not awkward, just expectant.

  Finally, Nym stepped closer and gave a small, exaggerated bow.

  “May I have this dance?” she asked, extending a hand toward him.

  Vale blinked, momentarily stunned.

  Then he laughed.

  Nym straightened immediately, her expression shifting into mild irritation.

  “Something funny?” she asked, brow raised.

  Vale shook his head, still smiling as he recovered.

  “No, no, nothing like that,” he said, reaching out and gently taking her hand.

  He met her gaze, his expression softening.

  “Shall we dance, then?”