The morning light spilled through crystal windows, scattering soft gold across the villa's marble floors.
For the first time in years, none of them woke to alarms or training bells.
No instructors. No schedules. Only the hum of soft music and the faint scent of flowers drifting through hidden vents.
Trisha lay half-buried in a silk bed large enough for five. She stretched and laughed softly.
"So this is what the nobles wake up to every day," she murmured. "I could get used to this."
A servant bowed slightly from the doorway.
"Good morning, my lady. Would you prefer jasmine mist or starlight petals for your bath?"
Trisha blinked, then grinned.
"Surprise me."
---
In the dining hall, Velibrum stood before a spread that looked like a painting: layered fruits glowing faintly beneath crystal light, pastries steaming with honeyed vapor, and silver pitchers pouring themselves.
"Breakfast that serves itself," he said with a laugh. "Now that's civilization."
Leonard entered next, still half-asleep, wearing a robe embroidered with his name.
"I could die here and not complain."
He sat and began to eat — not like a soldier before battle, but like a prince with eternity to waste.
---
Slitah spent the morning exploring the villa gardens, flirting shamelessly with attendants whose uniforms were more expensive than his dreams.
They called him sir, and he wore the title like perfume.
By noon, he was boasting to anyone who would listen.
"Candor taught me to study," he said. "But this—this is how I was meant to live."
---
Eghosa appeared last. She had bathed, dressed, and even smiled — not because she felt different, but because everything around her insisted she should.
Her uniform had been replaced with tailored robes woven in black and red silk.
When she caught her reflection, for a moment she didn't see the girl from Candor.
She saw someone who belonged here.
Trisha waved from the table.
"Finally awake! Come, the juice refills itself!"
Eghosa sat. The chair molded perfectly to her posture. Plates floated gently toward her hand. Somewhere behind the walls, a hidden orchestra played faint, rising notes — the kind of sound that made silence impossible.
For hours, laughter replaced discipline. Even their words softened; please and thank you became commands disguised as manners.
By evening, the five of them lounged in the villa's sunroom — bellies full, eyes heavy, hearts drunk on ease.
Leonard raised a glass of amber wine.
"To victory," he said, his tone light and careless.
Trisha giggled. "To royalty!"
They clinked their glasses, not noticing how quiet the servants had become — how carefully they watched, taking note of each indulgence, each command, each forgotten trace of humility.
Outside, the city lights flickered like stars fallen to earth.
Inside, five prodigies rested in the velvet jaws of comfort, unaware that their fire was dimming with every breath of luxury.
---
Two days passed. The sharpness they carried from Candor dulled to laughter and laziness.
They began to mimic the nobles they once mocked — the gestures, the arrogance, the carelessness.
"What do you think of this place, Trisha?" Eghosa asked one night as they prepared to sleep, though the sun still hung over the city like melted gold.
Trisha sighed. "We've spent two days here, and it's calm, comforting. They've treated us like royalty. Honestly… I could stay here forever."
Eghosa frowned. "But don't you think we should be training? The dean said the trials would test all three disciplines — art, combat, and science."
Trisha waved a hand. "I've tried, but the holoscreens don't work here, and there's no training ground. I guess royalty sees something like that as beneath them."
"Well—" Eghosa began.
Trisha smiled knowingly. "Relax, I understand your worry. But we don't know anyone here. Let the dean return — then we'll know what to do next."
Eghosa hesitated. "But when is he getting back? It's been two days, and we haven't heard a word."
"I'm sure it's just some delay," Trisha replied.
Eghosa sighed. "Maybe you're right."
Trisha grinned, changing the subject. "What do you say we go swimming tomorrow?"
"I don't even have a bathing suit."
"What?!" Trisha gasped dramatically. "You haven't seen the wardrobe? It's full of clothes — all sizes, all styles!"
"There's such a thing in this villa?" Eghosa asked in disbelief.
"Exactly! Including swimsuits!"
"Why didn't you tell me sooner?"
Trisha laughed, pointing at her. "Weren't you worried just a minute ago? Look how fast your mood changed."
Eghosa rolled her eyes. "You're impossible."
They both laughed — the kind of laughter that hides unease behind familiarity.
---
Far from the villa, the world was not laughing.
The air in the underground training room was thick with sweat and steel.
A young man with blonde hair and silver eyes swung his blade again and again, muscles trembling but unbroken. Beside him, a woman with violet hair — tall, elegant, and deadly — adjusted her stance. This was Theresa, a student of the Imperial Academy.
Kneeling a few feet away was Dimitri, a servant spy assigned to monitor the students from Candor. His green hair clung to his forehead, and he bowed low, trembling as he spoke.
"My lord Cairn," he said, "it is exactly as you predicted. The Candor students have indulged themselves beyond measure. Their fire is gone."
Cairn Velros turned toward him, his expression unreadable.
"You flatter me, Dimitri. Don't exaggerate."
Before the servant could reply, Theresa stepped in smoothly.
"He's right. They've fallen — not in battle, but in spirit. You read them perfectly."
Cairn exhaled through his nose, wiping his blade with a cloth.
"Still, this was only the beginning. A simple observation of weakness. The real test comes next."
Dimitri lowered his gaze. "Phase one, then, my lord?"
Before Cairn could answer, a slow voice cut through the silence.
From the shadows, a young man closed the book he had been reading — the faint click of its cover echoing like a clock stopping.
Half his face was hidden beneath the dim light, his presence colder than the steel walls around him.
"If it didn't work," he said softly, "then it isn't my plan."
Cairn looked up sharply. "So what do you call this, then?"
The young man stood, walking toward them — calm, deliberate, every word measured.
"It pains me," he murmured, "that the little bunny didn't kill the snake. The snake will always return."
Cairn frowned. "What are you implying?"
He smiled faintly — that same slow, calculating smile that unsettled even the proudest nobles.
"You call it victory when you gain advantage," he said. "I call it victory when there are no opponents left standing."
Theresa's eyes narrowed. "And how do we achieve that?"
The young man paused at the doorway, tilting his head slightly.
"Well," he said, "the little bunny could have gathered his friends to kill the snake… but he was content to live happily with the cat."
He left the room without another word, the faint echo of his footsteps fading into the dark.
Cairn and Theresa exchanged glances. They didn't understand, not yet — but they both knew one thing:
he never spoke without purpose, and he was never wrong.
---
The next day, laughter filled the poolside.
"Woo! Eghosa, this is amazing!" Trisha shouted, splashing through the blue water.
Eghosa hesitated, then made a small run and dove in. "Cannonball!"
The others cheered as water burst upward in glistening arcs.
Eghosa surfaced, laughing. Her dark skin shimmered under the sunlight, brown dreadlocks slicked back. She was strength and grace bound in one — the kind of beauty born from struggle.
"See?" Trisha said, grinning. "Told you you'd love it."
Eghosa smiled, relaxing. For the first time since arriving, she allowed herself to feel peace.