The Academy of the Noble Orders rose like an obsidian monolith against the dawn, its spires clawing at the bleeding sky. Selene had always thought it beautiful,once.
Now she saw the cracks beneath the gold.
The sprawling courtyards bustled with the scions of Velarion's highest bloodlines, draped in silks and arrogance. The air shimmered with the raw pulse of Essence, vibrant and eager, like wolves scenting fresh meat.
Selene walked among them like a ghost.
She felt the weight of familiar gazes, the dismissive sneers, the careless laughter of those who had never tasted true suffering. In her last life, she had been one of them,a foolish girl seeking her place at the feet of lions.
Now, she walked among them wearing the mask of indifference.
And no one noticed the difference.
Perfect.
"Selene!" a voice called from across the courtyard, bright, oblivious.
Elena Veyra.
In her past life, Elena had been her closest friend. Or so Selene had thought. In truth, Elena had been the first to turn away when the accusations came. The first to throw her name to the wolves.
Selene turned, letting a slow, practiced smile bloom upon her lips.
"Elena."
The girl rushed to her side, looping her arm through Selene's as though no years, no betrayals, stood between them. Selene did not flinch, though every instinct screamed to break the girl's arm.
"You've been away so long, I thought perhaps House Corvane had finally crumbled into dust," Elena teased.
Selene allowed a soft laugh. "Not yet."
She tucked the venom behind velvet tones, the way the nobles played their endless games. But beneath the silk of her words, her thoughts churned like a raging sea.
They would never see her coming.
"Are you heading to orientation? I heard the Academy is introducing the new Battle Regiments this year," Elena chirped. "Of course, Daeron will be leading the First Spear. As if anyone else could."
Daeron.
Even his name scraped against her like a blade.
Selene smiled thinly. "Is that so?"
"Oh, yes," Elena gushed. "He's already defeated several senior lords in the practice rings. There are rumors the Iron Duke plans to petition the High Orders to have him named as the next Imperial Spear."
Selene's steps did not falter. But inside, she laughed.
Yes, the path to glory was already paved beneath Daeron Vale's golden boots.
But this time, Selene would be waiting in the shadows of that path, knife in hand.
"I suppose we should go then," Selene said softly.
Elena frowned, tilting her head. "You sound... different."
Selene tilted her chin. "Do I?"
"I suppose... older," Elena said with a giggle. "Or perhaps you're finally realizing what it means to be one of us."
Selene smiled.
If only you knew.
The Grand Assembly Hall of the Academy was an arena of ivory and crimson, lined with the banners of the Twelve Noble Orders, each representing the Pillars upon which Velarion stood: Strength, Cunning, Wealth, Lore, and the rest.
The students gathered in neat formations, their houses arranged like pieces on a chessboard. The buzz of competition and rivalry filled the air like static.
Selene took her place at the edge of House Corvane's ranks, silent, observant.
In her last life, she had stood eagerly at the front, trying to catch Daeron's eye, hoping for scraps of recognition.
Not this time.
She was content to watch.
It did not take long for him to arrive.
Daeron Vale strode into the hall like he owned the air itself. His retinue followed like hounds, garbed in House Vale's black and gold. His Essence Core shimmered beneath his breastbone,a raging sun, daring all others to challenge him.
Selene kept her gaze steady, unflinching as his path carried him directly before her.
And then... he paused.
For a heartbeat, Daeron Vale's sharp gaze flicked toward her. Their eyes met.
Selene's heart did not quicken.
Daeron's brow furrowed,subtle, but there. A crack in his perfect mask.
"Corvane," he drawled, his voice deep, commanding. "Didn't think you'd return. Rumor said your house was bleeding coin."
Selene tilted her head. "Rumors are such fragile things, Lord Vale. They break so easily when faced with truth."
A hush rippled through the nearby students.
Daeron's smile was sharp. "Is that so?"
Selene inclined her head slightly, never looking away.
Let him stare.
Let him see nothing.
Daeron held her gaze longer than necessary before scoffing softly and moving on.
The crowd exhaled.
Elena latched onto her arm once more, whispering fiercely, "Selene, are you mad? You know how Daeron is. You shouldn't provoke him."
Selene smiled sweetly. "I did nothing of the sort."
Elena looked at her as if seeing her for the first time.
Good.
Let them all see her as something unfamiliar. Something they could not place.
Something dangerous.
The next weeks passed in measured steps.
Selene did not flaunt herself. She did not chase the approval of the popular, the powerful. She studied in the corners, trained in the empty rings at dusk, listened in the shadows.
And slowly... they began to notice.
The whispers grew.
Selene Corvane, the wallflower, the shy girl with the weak Core,was no longer weak.
Her sparring partners found themselves thrown, disarmed, humiliated.
Her Essence, once pale and flickering, now pulsed with a steady, ominous glow,a deep crimson ember, slow to burn, but unyielding.
Some said she had found a secret master.
Others claimed House Corvane had unlocked a forbidden relic.
Selene let them whisper.
Let them guess.
She had no need to show them the truth. Not yet.
It was during the Blood Trials that Daeron finally approached her again.
The trials were the Academy's brutal tradition,a mock war played between the houses, where alliances were forged and shattered in blood and spectacle. The scions of Velarion used it to test their mettle and humiliate the weak.
Selene stood alone at the edge of the arena sands, polishing her blade, when his shadow fell upon her.
"Corvane," Daeron said, his tone half-amused, half-predatory. "You've been avoiding me."
Selene cleaned her blade with slow, deliberate motions. "I didn't realize I was worth your attention, Lord Vale."
He studied her closely.
"You've changed."
Selene finally looked up. Her gaze was ice.
"And you haven't."
That flicker again.
Daeron chuckled softly, but there was a note of irritation beneath it now.
"I'm assembling my unit for the Trials. You're wasted in the sidelines. Fight under my banner."
In her last life, she would have wept at such an offer.
Now... she simply tilted her head.
"I prefer to fight alone."
A beat of silence stretched between them.
A refusal.
Public. Unapologetic.
Daeron's mask remained, but his eyes darkened.
"Careful, Selene," he murmured, leaning in close. "Velarion is a place for wolves. Sheep don't survive long."
Selene smiled, slow and razor-sharp. "Perhaps. But even wolves bleed, Daeron."
And she walked away, leaving him staring after her.
That night, she sat alone in the archives, studying ancient battle formations, tracing the patterns of the Noble Orders' rise and fall across the Empire's bloodstained history.
Velarion was built upon betrayal.
She would use that foundation to bury them all.
Selene traced the ancient sigils with a gloved hand.
The Ashen Path. The forbidden philosophy of those who rejected the Noble Orders, believing in power untethered from lineage or loyalty. Outlaws. Heretics.
She would become their nightmare given flesh.
Behind her, the shadows stirred.
"You've caught his attention," a voice murmured.
Selene did not startle.
"Good."
The speaker emerged,Kerin, an outcast from House Deryn, once a failed candidate for the Orders, now a ghost lingering at the Academy's fringes. In her past life, she had overlooked him. Now, she saw his value.
"Weak men crumble when they can't control something," Kerin said, smirking. "Vale will try to break you."
Selene's smile was cold. "Let him try."
Kerin's gaze lingered on her, as if seeing her true face for the first time.
"Whatever you are, Selene... you're no longer one of them."
"No," she agreed softly, tracing the Ashen Path's emblem.
"I'm not."
She would no longer beg for scraps.
She would take everything.
And Daeron Vale would learn what it meant to lose.