When I first witnessed Silas's ability to manipulate chains, I couldn't deny my fascination, even if I was too shy to admit it. And now, seeing those very chains materialize from beneath the ground where Ambroxius stood, I wasn't surprised—but I was fascinated.
The dark red chains surged upward, poised to ensnare her. Ambroxius's eyes widened as she leapt away, landing deftly on the branch just in front of me. My gaze trailed up to her lazily, my head heavy with exhaustion, before shifting down to the floor.
The chains writhed below like dying serpents, their movements slow and deliberate. Beneath them, a viscous, dark red substance glistened in the dim light—a slick, slimy texture that made my stomach churn.
It took me a moment to realize it was my blood, pooling on the forest floor, dripping steadily from the wounds caused by the vines constricting my body.
I instinctively tried to move, but the vines tightened in response, their thorns digging deeper into my skin. Fresh rivulets of blood spilled down, adding to the growing puddle beneath me. My breathing hitched, shallow and strained, as I watched with detached interest.
The blood on the ground seemed to come alive, crawling and slithering toward the chains. The moment it touched them, the chains began to glow—a faint, ominous light that sent a chill down my spine.
"Interesting," Ambroxius mused, her voice lilting with amusement. "Just as I explained how Lady Minerva's abilities worked, you managed to mimic them so perfectly. A prodigy, perhaps?" She tilted her head, her smile darkening.
"But even prodigies die, my dear." Her laugh was soft and melodic, yet it carried a sharp edge that made me grit my teeth.
Anger flared within me, and I growled low in my throat, willing the chains to move. To my surprise, they shot forward like a bolt of lightning, faster than I had anticipated. Ambroxius's laughter cut off as she gasped, narrowly dodging the attack. The chains struck the tree behind her, slicing clean through its trunk with a sickening crack. The tree groaned and splintered as it toppled, crashing into another behind it with a deafening thud.
"Oh my," Ambroxius purred, her amusement returning as the chains disintegrated, melting back into a heap of blood on the ground. My vision blurred, black creeping in at the edges. I blinked hard, trying to stay conscious, but when I refocused, Ambroxius was standing in front of me once more, her smile sharper than ever.
"Fascinating," she murmured. "But it won't matter. You'll die here, by the own hands of your so-called allies. After all, they are the ones who placed those charms." Her grin widened, a cruel glint in her eyes. "And I… I'll get to savor a taste of Gael blood."
She licked her lips slowly, her form beginning to shift. My stomach twisted in horror as her features contorted and morphed until she stood before me—a perfect copy of myself.
"No," I whispered, my voice trembling. My body tensed as I struggled against the vines, but they only tightened further. The thorns pierced deeper, slicing into my neck and arms until it felt as though they were burrowing into my very bones. The pain was excruciating, but it was nothing compared to the revulsion twisting in my gut as I stared at Ambroxius—no, at myself.
She twirled on her heels, laughing gleefully. "I must admit, being a young boy feels… incredible!" she exclaimed, her voice a mockery of my own. "So much energy, so much potential!"
I tried to summon the chains again, desperation fueling my efforts. But all I could manage was a weak, shaky coil that collapsed back into a puddle of blood almost immediately. My body gave out, sagging against the trunk of the tree. The vines constricted tighter, their thorns tearing into me as Ambroxius turned to face me, humming a cheerful tune.
Seeing my own face twisted into such a grotesque smile made my skin crawl. I bared my fangs at her, my voice a hoarse snarl. "You bitch. Don't… touch them."
Ambroxius only grinned wider. "Oh, how sweet. You still think you can stop me." She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a taunting whisper. "I must say, that little display of power was impressive. But you're just a dying vampire now, and I already feel bad enough. Don't worry, though—I'll take good care of your friends while I'm out there." She turned on her heel, skipping away with a carefree laugh.
"Come back!" I roared, my voice cracking as I strained against the vines. The thorns tore deeper, and blood spilled freely down my body, soaking the ground beneath me. I tried to summon the chains again, but the blood puddle had already begun to dry, its glow fading into dull nothingness.
"No," I rasped, shaking with rage. My teeth clenched as I forced myself to focus, my mind racing. Blood—I needed more blood. Not just a drip. I needed enough to drown this entire forest if I had to.
Summoning every ounce of strength I had left, I thrashed against the vines. The thorns dug in deeper, ripping through my flesh as blood gushed out in violent spurts. The sound of it hitting the ground was deafening—a steady, rhythmic drip, drip, drip that echoed in my ears.
This is enough.
—
[Now…]
"Thank goodness you're healing well now…" Silas sighed, carefully pulling the gauze away from my arm. The fabric came off clean, save for a few faint splotches of blood, which he wiped away with practiced ease. His movements were slow, deliberate, and gentle, though his face betrayed a hint of exhaustion. I bit my lip, sneaking a glance at him.
Getting hurt didn't matter to me anymore. Not now. What mattered was what Ambroxius had done to Silas. That thought knotted my stomach, and I couldn't shake the ache of guilt that came with it.
I clenched my teeth, my hand darting forward to grab his. "Are you okay?" I asked, my voice low but firm. His pale face and the slight tremor in his hand told me more than I wanted to know.
Silas let out a heavy sigh, rubbing his temple with his free hand. "She caught me completely off guard," he admitted, his tone bitter with self-reproach. "I wasn't at my best… I'll admit, I've been in better health. I didn't expect her to strike so suddenly." He shook his head, frustration darkening his features. The shadows under his eyes seemed deeper now, and his shoulders slumped as if bearing an invisible weight.
"Hey." I tightened my grip on his hand, sandwiching it between both of mine. The sudden motion made him glance up, his weary gaze meeting mine. "I'm just glad you're alright," I said softly, trying to ease the tension in his expression. "It's my fault she was able to copy me in the first place. I wasn't careful enough." My words came out as a sigh, my chest tightening with guilt.
Silas's eyes drifted downward, focusing on something near my chest. Before I could ask what he was doing, he leaned closer, his fingers brushing against my neck.
I winced instinctively, the touch sending a sharp jolt through me. "The charms got you?" he asked, his brows furrowing in concern. His fingertips lingered on the faint marks where the thorns had torn into me.
"It's already healing," I said quickly, grabbing his wrist to stop him from fussing. Despite my words, his expression darkened. His gaze flicked toward the closed door to Vivienne's office, where the headmaster was now interrogating Ambroxius—the twisted mimic I'd captured after her distraction had left Silas vulnerable.
I should have caught her earlier. Before she had the chance to hurt him. The memory of her taunts, her laughter, and the way she'd used my own abilities against me made my blood boil. My fists clenched tightly, and a low growl escaped my throat.
Silas's eyes widened slightly, likely mistaking my reaction for pain. I quickly softened my expression, loosening my grip on his wrist. "I'm sorry I was late," I murmured, my voice barely audible. My hands fell to my sides, fingers curling into fists as anger bubbled beneath the surface.
Silas gave me a tight-lipped smile, tilting his head. "I think you came right on time," he said, his voice light, though there was something unreadable in his tone.
I frowned at him, about to press further, but a voice called out behind us.
"Oh divines, Sir Gael! I heard what happened!" Alexandre's voice rang out as she and Rosemary jogged toward us. Rosemary's hair was a tangled mess, a mix of leaves and twigs sticking out at odd angles, while Alexandre looked like she'd run a marathon—her face flushed and her breathing ragged.
Silas stood up, moving a little shakily. I immediately stepped forward, offering my arm. He glanced at it for a moment but waved it off with a small, dismissive smile.
That hurt more than I expected, but I swallowed the ache and stayed quiet.
"The servant of Gluttony (Lucia) is being interrogated now," Silas announced, his voice steadier than before. A faint smile tugged at his lips, though it didn't quite reach his eyes.
Rosemary reached him first, grabbing his shoulders and spinning him around to face her. "Are you okay? She didn't bite you or anything, right?" she asked, her words tumbling out in a frantic rush. Her eyes scanned him from head to toe, her worry palpable.
Silas chuckled softly, brushing her concern aside with a wave of his hand. "I'm fine, Rosemary. I promise."
But as I stood there, watching him try to reassure her, I couldn't help but notice the slight tremor in his hand and the lingering pallor in his cheeks. He was putting on a brave face—for us, for me—but I knew better.
"I'm still in one piece," Silas says with a smile, his voice light, though he leans against the wall for support. I stand to the side, a frown pulling at my face, my arms crossed tightly over my chest.
There's something bitter churning in my gut, a gnawing regret. Letting Ambroxius live... I shouldn't have hesitated. I should have cut out her tongue, killed her for good.
The thought makes something dark claw at the edges of my mind, a seething anger that threatens to spill over. It feels like fire licking at my insides, begging to be unleashed on whoever dared to make me feel this way. I force it down with a sharp, strained breath, my jaw tightening.
"And you," Rosemary's voice pulls me from my thoughts. She's looking at me now, her sharp green eyes glinting with curiosity. "I heard you've finally figured out how to use your weird vampire magic." Her tone is teasing, but there's a thread of genuine interest beneath it.
I nod hesitantly, glancing down at my hands before flicking my gaze to Silas. "I think so," I mutter, unsure. The power had come to me in the heat of the moment, instinctive and raw, but it had felt… right.
Silas perks up at my response, his expression lighting up. "I saw it with my own eyes!" he exclaims, clasping his hands together as if reliving the moment. There's an almost childlike excitement in his voice, and I swear I can see stars glimmering in his eyes. "It looked just like my ensnare spell! Tell me that was one purpose!"
"I… I took inspiration," I stammer, rubbing the back of my neck awkwardly. His enthusiasm is far too much for me, and I feel heat creeping up the back of my ears.
Rosemary smirks, crossing her arms as she leans against the doorframe. "I'm proud of you," she says, and before I can process the compliment, she punches my arm—hard.
The blow sends me stumbling into the wall, and I hiss in pain, clutching at my shoulder. "Hey! He was just injured a few minutes ago! Can't you be more careful?" Silas snaps, stepping between us. He flicks Rosemary's ears, eliciting a loud, exaggerated whine from her.
"Hey…" I say, catching Silas's attention. He turns to me, eyes wide with concern. "You should go to Seraphine and get checked out."
Rosemary's teasing demeanor vanishes in an instant, her brow furrowing as she studies him. "Are you okay?" she asks, her voice softer now.
Silas forces a smile, waving her off dismissively. "I'm fine, really," he says, but the strain in his voice is impossible to miss.
"No, you're not," I interject firmly, my voice cutting through the conversation. "He hasn't been sleeping, and he's overworked."
The room falls silent for a moment. Silas flushes red, avoiding everyone's gaze. Rosemary's glare sharpens, her green eyes practically boring holes into him. Alex, who had been standing quietly in the corner, crosses her arms with a sly, knowing smile.
"My thoughts exactly," Alex says, her voice lilting with amusement as she chuckles softly. "Fufu, you're far too reckless, Silas."
Silas groans, the tips of his ears burning red as he mutters, "I said I'm fine…"
I stay quiet, lingering in the background as I watch them. The warmth in their banter, the way they care for each other despite the teasing—it feels distant, like something I'm watching through a window.
I tighten my arms around myself and look away.
—
"Something bothering you?" Silas asks, his voice light yet probing. He's lying on one of the clinic beds, the blazer of his uniform discarded. His white dress shirt, still damp from where the blood had been cleaned with water, clings faintly to his chest. His face, though brighter now, still bears the faint traces of exhaustion.
I take a seat beside him, dragging the chair closer to the bed. "Nothing really," I reply, though the weight of my words feels unconvincing. I've managed to change clothes too—my robe is gone for now, and I've reverted to my old jacket while waiting for Navee to repair it. Even so, the absence of my robe feels strange, like a piece of my armor is missing.
"Really?" Silas tilts his head, his messy hair falling slightly into his eyes. "Did she do something to you?" He starts to sit up, but I let out an annoyed noise, glaring at him. He only chuckles at my reaction, his grin mischievous.
"What? I feel great now," he says with a grin, motioning toward the water jug by the bedside. "I drank some water, got some rest. See? I'm fine." His smile is disarming, but the dark circles under his eyes tell a different story. I sigh, though I can't help the faint smile tugging at my lips. At least he's trying.
"You didn't answer my question." He tugs lightly on my sleeve, his touch pulling me from my thoughts. I hadn't even realized I was staring at him.
"What question?" I ask, feigning ignorance as my gaze flicks away.
He pouts at me. "Did she do something to you? You're in such a daze. That's not like you."
I sigh internally. Even now, after everything, he's still more concerned about me than about himself. It's selfish, isn't it? To want him to lean on me for once? To depend on me?
"Nah," I finally reply, my voice casual as I scoot my chair a bit closer to his bed. "I'm just angry that she… put her hands all over you. And to make it worse, she did it while wearing my face." My voice wavers slightly, and I can't stop the shiver that runs down my spine. The memory claws at me, a sharp reminder of how late I was to stop it.
I'm furious at myself for being so damn late.
Silas's expression shifts, his playful demeanor fading into something more serious. His hand drifts to his cheek, his fingers brushing the skin as though trying to erase the memory. His face darkens, and he looks away, avoiding my gaze.
"You're right," he murmurs, his voice low.
The sudden change in his demeanor makes me stop. Did I make it worse by bringing it up? My heart sinks like a stone. What if… what if he hates my face now? The thought sends a pang of panic through me. I swallow the lump in my throat, feeling regret twist in my chest. Maybe I should've kept my mouth shut.
"Do you… want to rest?" I ask softly, praying my voice doesn't betray the nervousness bubbling beneath.
He blinks, startled, and quickly turns back to me. His eyes widen, as if I'd pulled him from some distant place. "Ah! Well… I doubt I can," he chuckles, though the sound feels forced. "I still have to make a report about everything that happened." He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, his movements stiff.
I frown, leaning forward slightly. "Can't you rest for just a moment? You're still recovering, Silas." Without thinking, I reach out and take his hand in mine, the warmth of his skin grounding me.
He flinches at the contact, pulling his hand away almost immediately. The action stings more than I'd like to admit. "Ah," I murmur, retreating, my stomach twisting with shame.
His eyes widen in alarm. "No! It's not what you think!" he says quickly, wincing as he rubs the back of his neck again. "It's just… talking about what happened… it puts me on edge. I know it's not you, Seb. I know that. I'm sorry." His voice grows small, quieter. "Looks like I'm not such a great high-class mage if I let things like this get to me."
I bite my lip, holding back the urge to argue. His self-deprecation cuts deeper than any wound, but I don't want to push him further.
"Being scared doesn't make you less of who you are," I say, keeping my voice steady. "You're still the badass mage I met. The one who saved me." My words come out more forcefully than I intended, and his head lifts slightly, his cheeks tinting pink.
"Badass mage?" he repeats, a snort slipping out as he tries to cover it with his fist.
I look away, embarrassed. "I-I'm just saying it's okay to feel scared. You don't have to hide that from me. You can be real with me, Silas. You don't have to pretend."
For a moment, his face is unreadable, his gaze studying me with an intensity that makes my chest tighten. Then, slowly, he smiles—soft, genuine, and warm.
"If there's anything on your mind," I continue, my voice quieter now, "I want to be someone you can talk to. Just… don't shut people out."
Silas presses his lips into a thin line, his eyes flicking down to his hands before lifting back to mine. "That's… really cheesy," he says, though his smile widens. "But I promise." He raises his hands, clenching them as if steeling himself.
I roll my eyes. "You don't have to promise. It's your decision if you want to talk. I just want you to know you're not alone."
"Still," he huffs, raising his pinky finger toward me, "I'm making it official. I promise that if I ever need someone to talk to, I'll come to you. But—" his lips curve into a smirk, "only if you pinky promise me you'll do the same."
I gape at him. "Wait. When did this become about me?"
He grins proudly, as if he's won some invisible battle. "If you're doing so much for me, it's only fair I do the same for you."
"E-Eh…" I start, but he gasps dramatically, cutting me off.
"Do you not trust me?!"
I wave him off, rolling my eyes at his theatrics. "It's not like that."
"Then pinky promise," he insists, wiggling his finger in front of me. His expression is so determined, so ridiculous, that I can't help but sigh. Fine. If this is what it takes for him to listen.
I raise my pinky, feeling slightly ridiculous. "Alright then."
His face lights up, and he quickly wraps his pinky around mine. "There! Now it's official." He leans back, looking smug.
"This feels childish," I mutter, shaking my head.
"Don't be such a killjoy," he teases, sticking out his tongue. "Anyway, we've both promised to talk about our problems if we ever need an outlet. Partners, right?"
I blink at the word. "Partners?" I repeat, surprised.
"Yeah. Partners," he says with a grin. "Don't sound so disgusted about it."
I roll my eyes again, though a faint smile tugs at my lips. Disgusted? Who said I was disgusted?
"Partners," I murmur, the word lingering in my mind. It has… a nice ring to it.