The silence that followed Valerica's words was heavier than the mountain air. Vane felt the phantom weight of his mother's death, a cold pressure that had lived in his chest for five months, suddenly shift. It didn't disappear, but for the first time, it wasn't just his to carry. He looked at Valerica's hand on his arm. Her skin was warm, and her grip was firm, lacking any of the hesitant pity he'd spent his life loathing.

He wanted to believe her. He wanted to just nod and let the Sol family's massive, crushing influence erase Gareth from the world. But the boy who'd spent years scraping a living out of the Oakhaven mud didn't know how to accept a gift without looking for the hook. He'd been a parasite for so long that the idea of a symbiotic bond felt like a trap.

"You can't just call in a favor, Val," Vane said. His voice was rough, catching in his throat. He gently pulled his arm back, not to distance himself, but to steady his own shaking hands. "I didn't tell you this so you could go to your father. If a Sol house guard kills Gareth, it's just one noble house cleaning up another's mess. It doesn't fix anything. It doesn't mean anything to my mother."

Valerica didn't move. She stood her ground against the biting wind, her violet hair whipping around her face like a shroud. "You think I'm that shallow? You think I'd offer you a shortcut after watching you bleed in the gymnasium for months?"

"I'm saying I need to be the one," Vane countered, his eyes flashing with a sudden, sharp intensity. "I've spent every night since Oakhaven feeling the heat of that Radiant Arc. I've memorized the way his mana felt when it turned my home into a furnace. If he dies, it has to be because of what he did to us, not because he offended the Sol family by association."

Valerica stepped back, her expression softening into something that looked dangerously like respect. "I'm not offering you my father's signature on a death warrant, Vane. I'm offering you my spear. I'm offering you the Calamities. You want to ruin him? Fine. But you're a Rank 4 Sentinel. Gareth is a Knight-Lieutenant with a decade of combat experience and the backing of the Third Division. If you go in there as a 'Rat' looking for a back door, they'll catch you and hang you before you even see his face."

She reached out again, this time placing a hand on his shoulder. "I'm the way through the door. I'm the one who knows the protocols, the guard rotations, and the way the capital breathes. You provide the intent. I'll provide the access. We do this as partners, or we don't do it at all."

Vane looked at her for a long time. The "Rat" in his head was screaming at him to take the deal, to find a way to exploit her loyalty. But the soul Senna had forged was different. He didn't see a tool anymore. He saw a friend who was willing to risk a pristine legacy for a boy from a puddle. He realized that if he kept trying to do everything alone, he was just validating the world that had tried to crush him.

"Partners," Vane finally whispered. He let out a breath he felt like he'd been holding since the day he left Oakhaven. "Okay. Partners."

They walked back to the manor in a comfortable, tired silence. The orange glow of the interior lamps spilled out onto the gravel paths, welcoming them back into a world of wealth and order that still felt like a foreign country to Vane. The servants moved like ghosts in the periphery, but for once, Vane didn't feel the need to track their every movement. That night, for the first time in months, he didn't dream of the fire. He didn't dream of the mud. He just slept, his mind finally allowing itself to drift without the constant hum of a threat assessment.

The next morning was different. The tension that usually defined their relationship, the constant underlying hum of "who is stronger" and "who is faster," had evaporated. They met in the breakfast hall, a room that always made Vane feel small with its vaulted ceilings and tapestries. The table was a sea of polished silver and fine china, a stark contrast to the wooden bowls and chipped mugs of Oakhaven. Valerica was already there, picking at a plate of fruit and bread. She didn't have her hair tied back for training, and she wasn't wearing her academy leathers. She looked like a daughter of a Duke, but when she saw him, she gave him a small, knowing smirk that was pure Valerica.

"You look like you actually slept for once," she said, sliding a cup of tea toward him. "No bags under your eyes. It's a weird look for you."

Vane sat down, feeling the plush velvet of the chair against his back. He fumbled with the heavy silver fork for a second before remembering his mother's voice in the back of his mind. "Don't get used to it. My brain is already trying to figure out how many calories I'm losing by sitting still. It's hard to turn off the engine when you've been running for your life for five months."

They spent the day doing nothing. It was a concept Vane struggled to grasp at first. He'd spent his life in Oakhaven working to survive, and his life at Zenith working to evolve. The idea of just existing was terrifying. It felt like giving the world a chance to catch up to him. But Valerica led him out to the lower terraces, away from the prying eyes of the staff and the stern presence of her father. She seemed to know exactly when he was starting to spiral back into his own head.

They walked through a grove of silver-leafed trees that grew only in the high altitudes of the Sol estate. The air smelled like crushed mint and cold stone. They talked about the squad, laughing about the time Ashe had nearly leveled a training dummy because she'd misjudged her own strength, and how Isole always seemed to know exactly when Vane was about to push himself too far. It was strange to talk about them as people rather than just combat assets.

"She's going to be pissed we didn't tell her," Valerica said, leaning against a low stone wall that overlooked a sheer drop into the valley. "Isole, I mean. She hates being the last to know a secret, especially a big one. She'll probably give us that disappointed doctor look for a week."

"She'll understand," Vane said. He was watching a hawk circle the peaks, its wings catching the light. He felt the cold, liquid mercury of the Silver Fang mana humming in his veins, but for once, it wasn't a weapon. It was just a part of him. "Isole sees more than she lets on. She probably already knows I'm a mess. She just hasn't put a label on the trauma yet."

"We're all messes, Vane," Valerica replied softly. She wasn't looking at him, but at the distant horizon where the sky met the jagged peaks. "Some of us just have better tailors. My father expects me to be a perfect pillar of the Empire. They don't see me, they see the Sol name and the gravity arts. The only time I feel like I can just breathe is when I'm with the three of you. Because you don't care about the Sol name. You just care if I can keep my gravity arts from crushing the floor."

Vane turned to her. He saw the way the sunlight hit the violet of her eyes, making them look almost translucent. He realized then that their friendship wasn't just built on shared goals or mutual power. It was built on the fact that they were both hiding from the world's expectations. He was the fraud who became real, and she was the icon who wanted to be human.

"I care if you're okay, Val," Vane said. He didn't realize how heavy the words were until they were out. He felt a moment of panic, wondering if he'd crossed a line, but he didn't pull the words back. "The power is great. The Authority is amazing. But I'd still be standing here if you were a Rank 1 with no mana at all. I don't need the Sun-Priestess. I need my partner."

Valerica looked at him, surprised. A faint flush touched her cheeks, and she quickly looked back at the valley, her fingers tracing the rough texture of the stone wall. "Good. Because if we're going to the capital, you're going to need me to be more than just a battery. You're going to need someone who can keep your head on straight when you see his face again."

As the sun began to dip toward the horizon again, the softness of the day started to harden. The shadows grew long and sharp, stretching across the grass like blades. The golden warmth of the afternoon was replaced by a bruised purple light that felt more familiar to Vane. The peace was over. The day of being human was a luxury they could no longer afford. It was time to get to work.

They returned to the manor and went straight to the private library. It was a room filled with the scent of old parchment and beeswax, the walls lined with books that contained the history of the Empire and the secrets of the noble families. It was a place of knowledge, but today it would be a place of war.

Valerica walked to a large, oak-topped table in the center and cleared away a stack of ledgers. She pulled a heavy, leather-bound cylinder from a shelf and unrolled a map across the surface. It was a tactical layout of the Imperial Capital, marked with the symbols of the various divisions. Vane walked up to it, his heart starting to thud in a slow, rhythmic cadence that matched the sharpening of his intent. He looked at the sprawling streets, the high walls, and the fortress where Gareth would be waiting.

The planning had begun.

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