The chamber was a silent cavernous hall lined with pillars that stretched up into shadow.
Nefira stood barefoot at its center with blindfold wrapped tightly across her face. Her ponytail brushed against her white shirt and the soft folds of her baggy pants clung to her movements.
The second her lashes fluttered, the wind responded. It snapped outward and collided with a shadow that had been silently lunging toward her from behind. The figure slammed against a pillar, his blade scattering across the stone.
Her lips pressed into a grim line.
Dozens of footsteps shuffled at once, breaking into a synchronized rush. They came from every angle with no sound beyond the scuff of boots against the floor. Their Xana was muted. Their killing intent was buried deep that it would have fooled almost anyone but to Nefira, each breath they took disturbed the air currents.
Zephyr wrapped around her leg and amplified the strike. One assassin was hurled across the room, crumpling against the stone floor. A pivot on her heel and the wind current obeyed as two more attackers were lifted and smashed into each other mid-leap. Their bodies collapsed, groaning. She bent backward in a fluid arch, a sword cleaving only wind where her torso had been. With a flick of her wrist, Zephyr surged under her opponent's feet, flipping him into the air. By the time he landed, her knee was already driving into his chest.
They came in waves, closing from all sides, thinking numbers would overwhelm her but she felt the subtle displacement of oxygen when someone inhaled kr the faint break of flow when a dagger arced downward. It all painted the room for her in perfect clarity.
Her movements were unarmed. She had no weapons save her limbs and the gale, but each strike was magnified. A kick carried the force of a hurricane's gust. A palm strike was guided by compressed wind that hit like a cannon. She fought with nothing but the wind itself, weaving martial arts and elemental command into a single flawless language. Bodies hit the ground. The ground trembled under the weight of impact after impact. Thirty-six trained killers of the Sacred Assassins of the House of Rameses, lay groaning, disarmed, unconscious or too broken to continue.
But one remained.
She stood still, her blindfold damp with sweat. The faintest pressure tickled the edge of her senses. This assassin was not reckless like the rest. Her lips curved into a faint, humorless smile.
"You have been waiting."
The strike came immediately after. A blade edged with poison slashed straight toward her throat. Her hands snapped up and from the air itself, shards of ice materialized to twin blades. They clashed against the assassin's weapon. The older assassin pressed hard. His movements were refined as they were honed over decades of silent kills. He pivoted low, spinning his blade. Nefira countered with her ice blades flickering between her hands like extensions of her arms.
Blindfolded, she fought him step for step.
The sound of steel and ice slashing echoed like thunder in the chamber. The others had fallen with ease but this one pressed her, forcing her to adapt. The assassin feinted low. Her ice blade intercepted, shattering under the force but another reformed instantly in her grip, cleaving his attack aside. He struck with lightning precision, stabbing forward. She turned her body sideways. His blade cut nothing but empty space.
She summoned Luminous with a snap of her fingers. A sudden burst filled the chamber. The assassin staggered. The temporary blindness lasted only for a few seconds but that was all she needed. The air exploded upward. He was lifted off his feet, dragged into the air by invisible currents. His limbs flailed as she tightened her control. Her ice blades—thirteen in number—rose around him in a crown of death, each one angled precisely toward his throat.
For the first time, the older assassin spoke.
"You managed to subdue the thirty-seven Sacred Assassins of the House of Rameses at nineteen."
She reached for the knot at the back of her head and pulled the blindfold away. Her eyelids fluttered open. Revealed beneath them were pale, clouded and lifeless eyes. She had fought them all without vision and still, none could touch her.
One of the defeated assassins, barely conscious, reached toward a folded towel they had brought for her training. With a groan, he extended it toward her. She crouched, took it without hesitation, and wiped the sweat and dust from her face.
"I wanted to use my vision for the last training today. But unfortunately… I had to take care of the heirs of Argemenes and Erdict."
The chamber fell into silence again, the echoes of her storm still lingering in the air. She tied the blindfold back around her eyes, covering the truth once more. The assassins who still clung to consciousness immediately bowed, foreheads pressed to stone, not daring to lift their eyes. Even the injured groaned as they tried to lower themselves, all except Nefira.
A presence made everyone tense except her.
With the blindfold tied neatly again across her eyes, she stood upright at the chamber's center, her chin raised. She felt the subtle shift in the air currents. She did not need sight to know who it was. Her lips curved into a small, steady smile.
"Why did you come here, Father?"
A deep, resonant voice echoed across the chamber.
"Am I not allowed to see my daughter during her final training?"
The assassins bowed lower. Nefira tilted her head slightly.
"You never watched any of my other trainings."
"True. But this one was worth watching."
The steps grew closer. He stopped just before her, the currents around his form sharp enough to slice if she reached out with her hand.
"I defeated the Sacred Assassins at twenty-one. You have done so at nineteen. You broke my record."
For the first time that morning, Nefira allowed her composure to crack slightly. Her lips curved into a smile.
"Then… you are proud?"
"I am."
She smiled. For all her discipline and composure, Nefira was still his daughter, and that acknowledgment sank into her bones.
"Come. There is something we must discuss."
She tilted her head again, sensing the shift of air currents as he turned.
"What is it?"
"Walk with me."
He did not answer which, to Nefira, was an answer in itself. She followed him through the grand archway and into the endless hallways of the pyrami. For a time, silence stretched between them, filled only by the sound of their footsteps.
"What do you think of the Argemenes heir?"
Her heart skipped a beat. The blood in her veins turned cold. She forced her breathing steady but panic clawed at her insides. Did he know about last night? About the kiss? About the way she lost herself in that intoxicating presence, about the thorns that tore her wrists?
"His affinity… it is unusually high to the void element."
"And his Xana?"
She swallowed hard. Her lips parted, then closed again, before she pushed the words out.
"Dense. Very dense. But… it is corrupted, as though filled with corrosion."
That was when her father stopped walking. Nefira felt an abrupt stillness in the air. His gaze was upon her. She couldn't see it but she could feel it pressing against her skin.
"You are correct."
She gasped.
"The Argemenes' training is unlike any other House's. Ten times worse, even. Do you know what they do at the age of five?"
Her throat tightened. She shook her head.
"They kill a very powerful Fluvium, possibly Class 5. And then, they eat their Fluvehearts, their flesh and blood."
Her blind eyes widened beneath the blindfold. She had heard of Fluviums, of course but to eat their flesh and blood?
"By consuming them, they gain two to three capabilities from the creatures. Whatever essence the Fluvium embodied, they absorb. Judging by the heir's constitution, he must have killed one tied to speed and stealth. That makes him a perfect assassin. And it does not end there. The Argemenes must eat Fluvehearts from time to time to adjust their bodies."
Nefira's lips parted but no sound escaped.
"And yet, the heir you met carries an unusually dense amount of Xana. It's massive enough that even the Houses whisper. And though only we Houses know of their Concept Flux, the Argemenes do not reveal theirs."
Nefira froze where she stood. Her father's gaze bored into her, and she could feel it.
"What did you do to the heir that you are suffering from Flux Corrosion?"
Her knees weakened. Her hands trembled at her sides. She opened her mouth but nothing came. His voice hardened.
"Do not lie to me, daughter."
Nefira's breath shook. She clenched her fists so tightly her nails dug into her palms.
"The Argemenes do not reveal their Flux unless they are in extreme danger. Meaning, you did something that forced him to use it."
Her throat went dry.
"So what did you do, Nefira?"
Her lips trembled. She could hear her pulse in her ears. What could she say? That she had kissed him, twice, intoxicated by his Xana like some lovestruck fool? That she had lost control, that she had been the one to press her lips against his, to steal the breath from his lungs, to risk war between two Houses just because she couldn't resist? What excuse could she give?
Her mouth opened. A whisper barely formed on her tongue.
"I… I—"