I didn’t like the plan.

  No, that wasn’t strong enough—I hated the plan.

  It wasn’t even a plan, really. More of a vague outline. A bad one at that. A flimsy, slapped-together excuse for a strategy that felt more like a joke than a battle plan.

  Make contact with the other houses. Scout the Guardian’s movements. Provide backup while Waelid handles the assault.

  That was it. That was the grand idea.

  I sat on a rock at the edge of camp, absently tapping my fingers against my knee as I mulled it over. Waelid spoke with so much confidence that it was easy to get swept up in his words, but when I broke it down, nothing actually made sense.

  If he could “handle it” alone, why hadn’t he already? What was he waiting for? He clearly had experience—he’d even won before, if what Laska said was true—but instead of giving us a real plan, all he did was tell us to let him work his magic.

  Something about it didn’t add up.

  ‘This doesn’t feel right,’ Fern muttered in the back of my mind.

  Yeah. I was thinking the same thing. It’s too vague. Too reckless.

  ‘You don’t trust him?’

  I hesitated before answering. Waelid was strong—there was no denying that. I’d seen him move faster than any human should, fight with a speed and confidence that put him leagues ahead of the rest of us. But trust? That was another matter entirely.

  I trust that he wants to win. I don’t trust that he’s telling us everything.

  Fern fell quiet after that.

  The campfire flickered a few yards away, casting long, shifting shadows against the trees. My housemates sat huddled around it, nursing wounds, lost in their own thoughts. The Cavernous Canopy stretched high above us, its rocky ceiling so distant that it looked like an endless night sky.

  I leaned forward, elbows resting on my knees, my mind still stuck on Waelid’s so-called plan. Was he trying to get us killed? Or was this just his usual arrogance bleeding into his strategy? Either way, I wasn’t sure I could just sit back and follow orders blindly.

  A gust of wind kicked up dirt as Waelid strode into the firelight, wearing the same cocky grin he always did—like this was all just another game to him.

  “All right, listen up, House Anu!” His voice boomed, cutting through the low murmurs of conversation. “You’re all looking like you just crawled out of your own graves. Chin up, people! You’ve got me on your side. And that means you’ve already won.”

  Silence.

  No one reacted.

  Even Mel, who normally had something snarky to say, just sat there smoothing out a new staff.

  Waelid didn’t seem to notice—or if he did, he didn’t care.

  “Here’s the deal,” he continued, arms crossed over his chest. “The Guardian’s hanging around the Mouth. That’s good news. Means we know where it is. Means we have time to prepare.” He spread his hands. “So, we’re gonna group up with the other houses, form a temporary alliance, and then Iwill take care of the Guardian. You all just focus on the small stuff, you know, staying out of the way and keeping yourselves alive. I’ll handle the rest.”

  There it was again. I’ll handle it.

  Like it was that simple.

  I clenched my jaw, but I kept my mouth shut.

  “Now,” Waelid said, pointing straight at me, “while Galina and I go take a little stroll and check on the other houses, you’re in charge, Erik.”

  I blinked. “Wait, what?”

  “You heard me.” Waelid winked, flashing an easy grin. “Heard you really pulled your weight with the scrollguard. Good job. Don’t let ’em burn the camp down while I’m gone.”

  And with that, he turned on his heel, motioning for Galina to follow. She nodded and fell into step behind him, disappearing into the trees.

  I exhaled slowly.

  Great. Now I was in charge.

  The fire crackled behind me, the weight of a dozen weary recruits settling on my shoulders. I could already feel the tension in the air, the unspoken worries gnawing at everyone’s nerves. We were all waiting for something—an attack, another death, a reason to fight.

  I pushed myself to my feet and turned back to the fire.

  I reached over to Waelid’s pack on the ground and grabbed his blanket to cover me. The air was cold—colder than it should have been, like the heat of the flames couldn’t quite fight off the chill seeping into our bones.

  Where is the cold coming from? I thought we were up in some sort of enclosed greenhouse kind of space here.

  ‘Maybe the wind moves through the walls?’ Fern said, and I shrugged.

  We sat in a tight circle, exhausted from the fight today. The only sound was the occasional crackle of burning wood and the faint, distant echoes of the wildlife on the first floor. Before we came up here, we had been told the unofficial name for the first floor was the Cavernous Canopy, and seeing it all from this hilltop made me think the name fit quite well.

  Sora shifted beside me, letting out a quiet hiss of pain and moving her hand up to her bandaged eye.

  Luna noticed immediately, and without a word, she moved closer, raising her fingers toward the soaked gauze.

  “Let me see,” Luna murmured.

  Sora hesitated, then nodded. She clenched her jaw, biting down on a strip of leather Luna handed her as the bandage came away. The wound beneath was raw, the edges inflamed, but at least it had stopped bleeding. Unfortunately, that did not bring her eye back.

  Luna examined it carefully. Then she took a flask of water from her pack and poured it over a cloth. Luna looked up at me and nodded toward Waelid’s bag.

  “He should have some pillardust. Can you hand it to me?”

  I nodded and found the vial. I tossed it over to Luna and watched her curiously. These kids had grown closer over the months, and watching them care for each other hit me in my feelings. I could come up with a million reasons why Luna was suspicious, but no one could convince me she didn’t care about Sora.

  “This will sting,” she warned.

  Sora barely reacted as Luna pressed the damp cloth to her skin, though her fingers dug into the dirt.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  Mel, watching from across the fire, tilted her head. “Want me to knock you out? It’d be faster.”

  Silas snorted. “Mel? Volunteering to be helpful? This is new. You feeling soft?”

  Mel’s boot connected with his shin before he could react.

  Silas let out a strangled grunt and rolled away from the fire, rubbing his leg. “Yeah, okay. That’s more like you.”

  Mel smirked. “Better.”

  The exchange, brief as it was, broke some of the tension. A few of us chuckled, the laughter rough and tired but real. Sora winced as Luna finished putting a new bandage over her eye and tying it gently.

  I heard a heavy sighing behind me and then Tevin spoke.

  “. . . I hope Zenobia’s all right.”

  His voice was low and mumbly, but the weight behind it was unmistakable.

  I glanced at him. His eyes were fixed on the fire, his brows drawn together in worry.

  I sighed, running a hand through my hair.

  We were all thinking the same thing. Everything was uncertain right now. The Guardian, the other houses, what came next. And even before this, our lives had never exactly been easy. The weight of the past pressed on us just as much as the danger ahead.

  Maybe . . . maybe it’s time we acknowledged that.

  ‘Huh? What are you talking about?’ Fern said.

  I turned toward Tevin.

  “How do you know Zenobia?” I asked.

  And just like that, the floodgates opened.

  Tevin’s eyes stayed on the fire, his hands clasped together like he was trying to steady himself. He let out a long breath.

  “I grew up in the royal court,” he started. “My mother—she wasn’t a noble, just a commoner the third prince kept around. I’d known him all my life, and he treated me quite well sometimes. He even liked her enough to promise that when I turned ten, once I was confirmed as a mageblood, she’d finally be allowed into the harem.”

  His jaw tightened. “That didn’t happen.”

  I didn’t have to ask why. Everyone here knew what happened at ten. The tests. The branding. The verdict that decided our futures.

  “The day they found out I was a voidblood, we were thrown out like trash. My mom . . . she didn’t handle it well. Got into drinking. Gambling. She burned through what little money we had, and one day, she just . . . disappeared. No note. No goodbye.”

  Luna shifted closer, listening quietly. Sora stared at him with sympathy.

  “I was taken in by Zenobia’s family after that,” Tevin continued. “Her parents were royal historians, smart people. Good people. They hid the fact that Zenobia was a voidblood, and then when she brought me home, they did the same for me. Took care of me like I was their own.”

  He looked down, his fingers tightening into fists. “It didn’t last. Years after I had been taken in by them, the prince saw me walking with Zenobia in the courtyard. That was it. We were all thrown out. Zenobia and I got sold. Her parents got locked up. That was . . . not even half a year ago. Zenobia . . . she’s been so strong through it all.”

  A deep silence followed.

  “. . . I still call them Mom and Dad,” Tevin admitted. “I don’t even know if they’re still alive.”

  No one knew what to say to that.

  Then Mel stretched out her legs, rolling her shoulders like she was shaking off a bad memory.

  “Damn,” she muttered. “Guess it’s my turn.”

  Tevin exposed a quick smile before he hid it. I thought that part of him was thankful Mel spoke up, and part of me thought she did it to take the pressure off him.

  Mel didn’t sit up, didn’t make a big deal out of it. Just started talking, like it was a story she barely cared about.

  “Some idiot left me in a basket in the rain,” she said. “Real classic. An old widow found me outside her bar and thought I was some abandoned mutt at first, then she turned over the lump and saw that it was a baby girl in a puddle.”

  Her lips curled. “Her name was Rosalind. Ran a place called The Magus Mixus, which, uh . . . sounds worse than it was. It was a dump, but it was our dump.”

  I could picture it already—dim candlelight, the smell of sweat and cheap beer, the sound of drunken laughter and fists slamming on tables.

  “She ran fight tournaments in the back,” Mel continued. “Not the Galinacy kind with rules and refs. The kind where you either learn how to hit back or get buried. I learned fast. Got real good too. Won enough fights to buy myself a better meal. Won enough of those to get cocky.”

  The smirk faded.

  “One day, I messed up. Beat the wrong guy a little too much. The next thing I know, Rosalind’s bar gets torn apart by some bastards looking for revenge for their ‘bro.’ She lost everything because of me.”

  Silas’s expression had shifted. He wasn’t joking anymore. No one was.

  “I owed her,” Mel said simply. “So I sold myself and sent the money back. Told her to rebuild. Haven’t seen her since.”

  Another pause.

  “J-just like that? You just left your adopted mom and came here?”

  “And what, stay and cause her more trouble? Nah, she didn’t need me hanging about much longer anyways.”

  “I’m not so sure about that Mel. I’m sure Rosalind loved you.”

  Mel’s face turned bright red. “I—what are you saying?!” She glanced at Sora. “Enough on me. Your turn, princess.”

  Sora looked surprised, then nervous. She hesitated, fingers brushing the cloth over her wounded eye.

  “Right,” she murmured. “Okay.

  “Rinka and I grew up in a classic high-court mageblood family,” Sora started, her voice quiet. “We lived a nice, spoiled life in the capital. Big family. Lots of cousins and lots of expectations. But when Rinka and I were tested and marked as voidbloods . . . Well, you know how it goes.”

  Her gaze lowered.

  “We weren’t kicked out,” she said. “Just . . . separated. We weren’t family anymore, not really. We became servants in our own homes. Cleaning. Cooking. Taking care of our brothers, sisters, and cousins like we were their maids.”

  Her hands curled into fists. “Rinka was the one who wanted to leave. She’s always wanted to be something bigger. And being a servant wasn’t a life for someone like that. She wanted to leave a legacy. So, I followed her. But now I don’t know who to follow.”

  Sora swallowed hard but said nothing more.

  “I think you will learn you don’t need to follow anyone but yourself,” Luna said.“I grew up in a little village. Canals ran through the streets. The artists there . . . they liked to paint murals. It was beautiful.”

  That was all she said.

  “. . . and?” I said. “Everyone else shared. Come on, Luna, give us something more about you?”

  “Hey! She doesn’t need to share more if she doesn’t want to,” Sora said.

  I put my hands in the air. “Okay, if you’re sure. Silas?”

  Silas let out a breath, leaning back against a log. He stared up at the trees dangling from the ceiling, his mechanical fingers turning something over and over in his hands. The small, metal cube he had when I met him. It hung from a string now around his neck.

  “. . . I lied before,” he admitted.

  I raised a brow. “About what?”

  Silas hesitated, then sighed.

  “About just being a dock slave,” he said. “I had parents, and they weren’t nobodies. They were part of the Royal Explorer’s League. Took me on voyages across the world and everything.”

  That got my attention. I’d never heard him mention that before. Everyone else seemed interested and leaned forward. Our other housemates who were sleeping or resting stirred and craned their ears over.

  “There was this one trip,” he continued. “My parents, they found . . . something. Deep in a cave, farther than anyone had gone before in the deep south of Stylos. A bunch of artifacts just thrown in a massive pit, like a trash heap. This”—he held up the metal cube—“was one of them.”

  He turned it in his hands. “I don’t even know what it does.

  “Then we made our way back to Corello. On the way back, our ship went down in a storm. I made it to a lifeboat. My parents . . . didn’t.”

  He fell silent for a long moment before exhaling.

  “When the surviving sailors dragged me back to Corello, they took me a hospital to treat my wounds. That’s when they found out I was a voidblood. And we all know how that story ends.”

  No one spoke for a while.

  I let my gaze drift around the fire. Faces illuminated by the flames, each one carrying stories of loss, survival, and pain. We weren’t just a group of recruits thrown together. We were something else. Something forged through shared suffering.

  I tightened my fingers around my staff.

  “We’ve all been through hell,” I said, getting ready to give them an inspiring speech.

  “Wait—what about you?” Silas cut in, leaning forward. His mechanical fingers tapped against his knee.

  “Yeah,” Mel added, shifting her weight. “You pressed Luna for hers. Time to spill, mosshead.”

  I blinked.

  I should’ve seen that coming.

  There was no hesitation, no moment of indecision. I already had the answer ready. Fern’s backstory.

  ‘You better tell it right,’ he said.

  I exhaled. “I was a blacksmith’s slave.”

  Sora’s brow furrowed. “Slave?”

  “That’s what it felt like,” I said. “My parents were magebloods. My little brother too. I wasn’t. That meant I worked. All day, every day, in my father’s forge. I’d wake up, start hammering metal, and wouldn’t stop until night.”

  I swallowed. “And when I didn’t do a good enough job, my mother made sure I looked like I worked hard enough.”

  Silas tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

  I stared into the flames.

  “In Corello, if a family has a voidblood, they have to prove to the government that they’re being disciplined. If there’s no sign of it—if their voidblood isn’t damaged enough—they can be punished . . . supposedly.”

  Several nods spread across the group. They were familiar with that law it seemed.

  Mel cracked her knuckles. “I’m gonna kill someone. Starting with the damn king.”

  A humorless chuckle escaped me. “Yeah, get in line.”

  Some of them nodded, like the story made sense, like it wasn’t even surprising. Like they’d expected nothing less from a mageblood-run world.

  “Anyway,” I said, shaking my head. “That’s all there is to it.”

  No one pressed me further.

  After a beat, Tevin let out a breath and leaned back against a log. “Thanks, Erik,” he muttered. “Took my mind off it all.”

  I gave him a small nod.

  The fire crackled, the embers rising into the dark. No one spoke after that. Everyone had retreated into their minds.

  One by one, we started settling in, finding whatever patch of ground or bedroll we could. The night was cold, the exhaustion deep, but thankfully all my friends were alive. All the House Anu first-years were safe. Bruised, sure, and one was missing an eye, but we were safe. For now.

  Cultivation ? Progression ? Multiple Lead Characters

  by Tequilama