Adrian laughed. It came out slightly hysterical. "I just got disowned by my father and lost everything. And yesterday I nearly died fighting a woman who could kill me with her pinkie finger. So no, I'm not okay."

They looked at each other. Then Elena sat beside him. "You have us."

"What?"

"You have us," Diana repeated, sitting on his other side. "Your team. We're not following Baron Celestius. We're not following the family name. We're following you."

"Even after everything? After I questioned my own heroism? After I admitted I might not deserve...."

"Especially after that," Thomas interrupted. His deep voice was firm. "You showed you're human. That you doubt. That you question. That makes you more trustworthy, not less."

Marcus Ashford nodded. "The hero who never questions is either lying or deluded. You're neither. That's why we're staying."

Adrian looked at them. His team. People who'd fought beside him. Bled beside him. And now, when he'd lost everything else, chose to stay.

"I don't have money anymore. Can't pay you...."

"Don't care," Diana said.

"I don't have political connections. Can't advance your careers....."

"Don't need them," Thomas added.

"I don't even know what I'm doing next. Where I'm going. What I'm fighting for...."

"Then we'll figure it out together," Elena finished. "That's what teams do."

Adrian felt something warm in his chest. Not the holy power he'd been given. Something smaller. More fragile.

But real.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

They stayed with him until visiting hours ended. And for the first time since awakening his powers, Adrian felt like he wasn't alone.

☆☆▪︎☆☆

The resistance safehouse was cramped, dark, and smelled of blood and exhaustion. Thirty people packed into a room meant for ten. All that remained of the fifty-member cell that had operated in Silvercrest. Twenty killed in yesterday's battle.

Kaeel stood at the front, face grim. Aria sat beside him, eyes distant. The others, survivors from various academies, scattered resistance members, watched with haunted expressions.

"Roll call," Kael said quietly.

One by one, they confirmed who was dead.

Marcus from Shadowgrove. Tessa from the merchant's guild. Trampled in the panic. Roland from Crimson Spire. Burned by League fire mage.

The list went on. Each name felt like a weight.

When it finished, Kael spoke. "Fifty members at dawn yesterday. Thirty at dawn today. Those are the numbers. That's what resisting costs."

"Was it worth it?" someone asked. Young. Barely twenty. First real battle.

"We saved eight thousand civilians," Kaeel replied. "You tell me."

Silence.

"I can't tell you it's worth it," Kael continued. "I can't promise it gets easier. I can't guarantee we'll win." He looked at each person. "What I can tell you is this: Yesterday, the League attacked publicly. Revealed themselves to thousands of witnesses. The lie is cracking."

"They'll deny it," someone said. "Call it mass hysteria. Blame us."

"Some will. But thousands saw with their own eyes. Recorded with scrying crystals. Testimony from multiple academies." Aria finally spoke. Her voice was hoarse. "The narrative is changing. Slowly. But changing."

"At what cost?" The young resistance member again. "Twenty dead. Cipher executed as a traitor. Victoria transformed into... whatever she is now. Hadeon team broken. Adrian disowned by his family. How much more can we lose?"

"Everything," Kael said bluntly. "We can lose everything. That's what war means. That's what revolution costs."

He let that sink in.

"If you want to leave, leave now. No judgment. No shame. Go live your life. Forget the cycles. Forget the Council. Try to be happy in the script they've written."

No one moved.

"But if you stay," Kael's voice hardened, "understand what you're choosing. We're not fighting for comfort. Not for glory. Not for reward. We're fighting so the next generation doesn't have to."

"How do we even fight?" Someone asked. "The League has SSS-rank fighters. The Council controls reality itself. We're just... people."

"So were they," Aria said softly. "Once. Before power corrupted them. Before they decided their freedom mattered more than everyone else's." She stood carefully. "We fight by exposing them. By waking people up. By building networks they can't infiltrate. By training fighters they can't predict. By surviving when they expect us to die."

"Victoria survived The Huntress," Kael added. "Ezra survived the tournament and the attack. Adrian chose truth over destiny. Helena killed a League Executor. We're not powerless. We're just outmatched."

"There's a difference?" someone asked.

"Yes." Kael smiled grimly. "Powerless means you can't fight. Outmatched means you can't win easily. We've never been able to win easily. That's never stopped us before."

The door opened. Everyone tensed. Hands went to weapons

Lucille entered, arm in a sling. "Relax. It's just me."

"Status?" Kael asked.

"Hadeon is stable. Recovering, he'll use at least two weeks minimum before he's combat-ready. Seraphina is stable but her leg will take a month. Ravenna..." Lucille's jaw tightened. "Ravenna's mana core is permanently damaged. Ten percent capacity loss and she can still fight but never at full power again."

More costs. More prices paid.

"Adrian?" Aria asked.

"Disowned by his father as of this morning. His team stayed with him. He's processing." Lucille looked around the room. "He wants to meet with Hadeon privately, says they need to talk."

"About what?"

"About what happens next."

☆☆▪︎☆☆

Three days later, I could walk without wanting to scream.

Progress.

Damian helped me to a private meeting room in the hospital, it was a neutral ground and secure, also warded against scrying.

Adrian arrived five minutes later, walking carefully. His team stayed outside, sams as mine did too.

Just the two of us.

We sat across from each other. Two people who'd been trying to kill each other a week ago.

"You look awful," I said.

"You look worse." He almost smiled. "How are your ribs?"

"Broken. Healing. Yours?"

"Same." He shifted, winced. "I wanted to talk about what happens next."

"What does happen next?"

"I don't know. That's the problem." He met my eyes. "I've spent my whole life following a script. Training regime set by my father. Social circles determined by politics. Even my friends were chosen for me. And now..."

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