I didn't react, I just kept walking, guiding my group to the stairs.

"Third floor," Damian said, leading the way.

Our section was as Victoria promised it was secure, defensible, with clear sightlines. Fifteen rooms arranged in a horseshoe pattern around a common area. Other faction members were already there, looking relieved.

"Young Master!" One of them rushed over. "Thank gods. We were worried when you disappeared during the explosions."

"I'm fine. Everyone accounted for?"

"Yes. All of us are here and there's no injuries or problems. The guards were professional and got us to shelter immediately."

"Good." I addressed everyone. "Listen up. The explosions were... terrorists operations. They're here, they're watching. That includes us. So from now on, no one goes anywhere alone. Minimum groups of three and no one leaves this floor without telling someone where you're going. Questions?"

"Are we safe here?" someone asked.

"Safer than most places. This place have been arranged for enhanced security. But safe? No. We won't be safe until the terrorist is dealt with." I looked around at worried faces. "We stick together, we watch each other's backs, and we survive. Understood?"

Nods all around.

"Room assignments are posted. Get settled and rest if you can. Bracket postings are at midnight and senior members will attend to it. Everyone else, sleep. We have a tournament to win tomorrow."

As people dispersed, my inner circle gathered in my room ad it was the largest of the fifteen in a corner position with two exits.

"Well," Isabella said, sitting on the windowsill. "This is going well."

"Define 'well,'" Marcus muttered.

"We're alive and the faction's intact. We have allies we didn't have yesterday. We know who some of the enemies are." She shrugged. "Could be worse."

"Could be better," Lucille countered. "We still don't know why we weren't attacked seriously. Who knew what's in store for us?"

"Well, you're right about that but there's no reason to worry about that again as we're already here."

"About the tournament." Isabella cut in and pulled out a notebook. "The point is. What's our play? We compete tomorrow. Against who? For what stakes?"

"We won't know brackets until midnight," I said. "But assuming standard tournament structure, sixteen teams, single elimination and four rounds to the finals."

"We need to reach at least semifinals," Seraphina said. "Anything less, and we look weak and the Baron uses that against us."

"But we also can't seem too strong too fast," Ravenna added. "If we dominate too easily, it draws attention and might even draw the wrong type, makes people ask questions about our power growth."

"So we need to win, but win believably," Marcus said. "Great, so no pressure."

"Welcome to performance art," I said. "We're not just fighting as we're also managing perceptions."

A knock suddenly came at the door.

Damian checked the peephole. "It's Cipher. And someone else."

I paused. "Let them in."

Cipher entered with another student, a girl, maybe eighteen, with silver hair and eyes that seemed to shift colors. She wore Mystholm colors and she looked a bit nervous.

"Sorry for coming here so announced, just that I have a little thing....."

He gestured.

"This is Aria," Cipher said. "My teammate. She's... special."

"Special how?" Lucille's hand moved toward her daggers as if she'd suddenly faced with a threat.

Cipher raised his hands. "Wait...!"

"I....I can see probability threads," Aria said simply as she began. "Some potential futures but not perfectly and it's not prophecy. But I can see likely outcomes based on current choices."

"That's impossible," Ravenna said flatly.

"So is void magic, bloodline awakening, and some powers," Aria countered. "Yet here we are. Cipher told me about your group. About what you're doing. I wanted to help."

"Why?" I said.

She suddenly focused on me and her eyes shifted.

"Because I've seen the futures where you fail. They're bad. Really bad." Her eyes shifted from gold to silver to deep blue. "But I've also seen futures where you succeed. Those are worth fighting for."

"Can you see tomorrow?" I asked. "The tournament?"

"Fragments and possibilities." She closed her eyes. "I see..."

She opened her eyes. "But I also see blood. During the third match of the day. Someone gets hurt. Badly. I can't see who. The futures splinter too much at that point."

"Is it terrorist attack?" Damian asked.

"Maybe. Or an accident. Or just the chaos of combat. I can't tell." She looked at me. "But I can tell you this. The decisions you make tomorrow will ripple forward. Every choice matters and very word is like a string, with every action."

"That's... not helpful," Marcus said flatly.

"Probability manipulation never is," she said with a slight smile. "But it's what I have, use it or don't."

I studied her. This... I can't remember a character like her in the book. And a prophecy? That's a first for me and I wasn't really that thrilled about it.

I took a deep breath. As I slowly disregard what she said. Prophecy and the such could be like chains that could be used to control the future.

"Thank you," I said. "Any other warnings? Things we should watch for?"

"The fourth League operative, the aristocrat posing as a royal observer. She's planning something, I can't see what, but it's big. Disruptive."

"Noted. Anything else?"

"Yes." Her eyes shifted to deep purple. "Adrian Celestius is at a crossroads. How you treat him will determine which path he takes. Push him away or bring him closer..." She paused.

Oh? Is this telling me I should pick him as my tool or let him rot?

After they left, we sat in silence.

"So," Marcus said finally. "We're being hunted by the League, monitored by the Baron, manipulated by the Council, and now we have to make nice with Adrian while competing in a tournament where lots are going to get seriously hurt. Do I have that right?"

"Yep," I said. "Something like that."

"Just checking." He stood and shook his head. "I'm going to bed. Wake me when reality becomes less stupid."

One by one, they dispersed to their rooms. Only Damian remained.

"Young Master," he said quietly. "Are you alright?"

"Define alright."

"Fair point." He moved to the window, checking the street below. "We're in deep. Deeper than we've ever been."

"I know."

"And tomorrow, it gets worse."

"Probably."

"But we'll survive, when have you not?"

I smiled. "When indeed? We'll see."

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