Sleep did not come easily to Lucian.

It never had, not really. Even back on the farm, before the system, before the Veil, before everything, he’d spent countless nights staring at the ceiling, listening to the wind move through the fields, his mind too restless to settle. Tonight was worse. The tournament loomed. The Council was watching. And somewhere in the back of his mind, a question echoed that he couldn’t answer and couldn’t ignore.

Who was his father?

He threw off the blanket and stood.

The dorm was quiet. Derek’s room was silent—no pacing, no muttered conversations with Dr. Blackwood. Mason’s room was dark. Sera’s door was closed. Cora’s room was at the end of the hall, and for a moment, he considered knocking. But no. This wasn’t something he could talk away.

He dressed in training clothes—dark pants, a thin jacket, his twin blades strapped across his back. Then he slipped out of the dorm and into the night.

---

The training yard was empty.

The moon hung low overhead, fat and pale, casting silver light across the mats and dummies. The pendulum weights were still, their chains ghostly in the dim glow. The air was cold, sharp, the kind of cold that woke you up and reminded you that you were alive.

Lucian walked to the center of the yard and sat.

Not meditation—not exactly. Just stillness. A chance to let his thoughts settle like dust after a storm.

He closed his eyes.

The system pulsed faintly in the background, a soft hum that had become as familiar as his own heartbeat. It didn’t offer answers. It never did. It just... was.

Half human. Half something else.

He breathed in. Breathed out.

The cold seeped through his clothes, but he didn’t shiver. He’d learned to ignore discomfort. To push past it. To use it.

His father had disappeared. Margaret never talked about him. The archives had no record. The Old Blood texts mentioned races that predated the Veil, but none of them matched the fragments of memory Margaret had shared.

So what was he?

He opened his eyes.

The moon was higher now, its light sharper. The shadows around the edges of the yard seemed deeper.

Lucian stood. He drew his blades—twin curves of star-steel and silver, gleaming in the moonlight. The weight was familiar. Comfortable.

He began to move.

Not the drills he ran with the team—those were controlled, measured, designed to teach. This was different. This was just flow. One blade cutting low, the other high. A turn, a pivot, a slash at empty air. His feet barely touched the ground. His breath came slow and steady.

He wasn’t fighting anyone. He was just... moving.

The moon watched.

And so did the figure on the roof.

---

They had been there for hours, silent and still, their dark cloak blending with the shadows of the eaves. Their face was hidden beneath a deep hood, but their eyes—pale, luminous, ancient—tracked Lucian’s every movement.

The young master.

He had grown since the last time they’d watched him. Stronger. Faster. More controlled. The way he moved with those blades—not like a rookie, not like someone who had been training for only a few months. He moved like someone who had been born to fight.

The figure’s lips curved beneath the hood.

Good.

Lucian stopped. His blades lowered. His head turned, slowly, scanning the darkness.

The figure went still.

For a moment, their eyes met across the yard—not directly, not with certainty, but close. Lucian’s gaze lingered on the rooftop, on the shadows where the figure stood.

Then he turned away.

Not yet, the figure thought.

They watched for a while longer. Lucian sheathed his blades, sat back down in the center of the yard, and closed his eyes. His breathing slowed. His shoulders relaxed.

Meditation. Good. The young master learns quickly.

The figure stepped back from the edge of the roof. Their movement was silent, fluid, barely disturbing the air. They walked to the far side of the building and stopped, looking up at the moon.

Soon.

Then they were gone, and the rooftop was empty, and the night was still.

---

Lucian opened his eyes. 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆𝙬𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝒎

The moon had shifted. The shadows were different. He’d been sitting for over an hour, his thoughts finally quiet, his mind finally clear.

But something nagged at him.

The feeling of being watched. It had been there, at the edge of his senses, for most of the night. Not threatening. Not hostile. Just... present.

He stood and scanned the rooftops. Nothing. Just shadows and moonlight and the distant hum of the city.

He sheathed his blades.

Maybe he was imagining things.

But he didn’t believe that.

---

Ashen Keep – Common Room – Next Morning

Cora was the first one there, as always. She sat on the couch, her feet propped on the table, a cup of coffee in her hands. Her hair was wet—she’d just showered. Her eyes were sharp, despite the early hour.

Lucian walked in, sat across from her, and stared at the wall.

"You look like crap," she said.

"Thanks."

"Bad night?"

He was quiet for a moment. Then: "I went to the training yard. Around midnight."

"Couldn’t sleep?"

"No."

She waited.

"I felt like I was being watched." He said it flatly, without drama. "I looked. Didn’t see anything. But the feeling didn’t go away."

Cora set down her coffee. "You think someone was there?"

"I think something was there."

She studied his face. He wasn’t joking. Wasn’t exaggerating. Just stating a fact.

"The shadowy figure," she said. "From before. The one you told me about."

"Maybe."

"And you didn’t see them?"

"No. But I felt them."

Cora leaned back. Her expression was unreadable.

"I believe you," she said.

Lucian looked at her. "Just like that?"

"Just like that." She picked up her coffee. "You’re not the type to imagine things. If you say something was there, something was there." She took a sip. "The question is, what do they want?"

Lucian didn’t have an answer.

The door opened. Derek walked in, still half-asleep, his staff dragging behind him. Mason followed, already in his gauntlets. Sera trailed behind, phone in hand.

The morning had begun.

But the feeling of being watched lingered at the back of Lucian’s mind, a shadow that wouldn’t quite fade.

And somewhere, hidden from sight, ancient eyes looked toward Ashford and waited.

The young master was growing.

Soon, he would need answers.

And when that time came, the world would shift.