We left the Crystal Labyrinth behind, the beautiful, deadly place now just a shimmering haze in the distance. The exhaustion from the trial was a physical weight, a soul-deep weariness that no amount of mana could erase. We made camp a few miles away, in a grove of the silent, purple-leafed trees that felt blessedly normal after the crystalline madness.
The mood was somber. The victory over our crystal duplicates felt hollow, overshadowed by the fresh grief for Edgar. My team moved with a grim, mechanical efficiency, setting up tents and starting a fire. I played my part, overseeing the preparations with a look of burdened leadership, my feigned sorrow a perfect mask. We ate a silent meal of dried meat and stale rations. No one had the energy for conversation. The events of the day had left them broken in their own quiet ways. One by one, they retreated to their tents, seeking the oblivion of sleep.
The only one who broke the silent routine was Lana.
She was different. The manic, playful energy that usually surrounded her like a storm was gone, replaced by a still, watchful intensity. She didn't cling to my side. She didn't bicker with Erica. She sat by the fire, sharpening a small knife, her movements precise and deliberate. She didn't speak to me, but I could feel her eyes on me whenever I wasn't looking. There was a new, unsettling calculation in her gaze, a scheming glint that I had only seen in my own reflection.
Was it the trial? I wondered. Did the labyrinth break something inside her, or forge something new?
I dismissed the thought. It didn't matter. She was a volatile asset, but a predictable one. Her obsession was her weakness. I let it go, retreating to the solitude of my own small tent, the Manacore Pendant cool against my chest. I needed to rest, to integrate the massive influx of power from Edgar's core, to plan our next move.
Sleep did not come easily. My mind was a whirlwind of strategy and calculation. Hours passed. The twin moons cast long, eerie shadows through the thin fabric of my tent. It was in that deep, oppressive quiet of the night that a new shadow fell across my entrance.
My body tensed instantly. I was on my feet, a blade of pure, dark energy forming in my hand before I had even registered a conscious thought. I prepared to face the threat, to annihilate whatever had managed to slip past my sentries.
The tent flap was pushed aside.
"Hiii," Lana whispered, a slow, predatory smile spreading across her face. She slipped inside, her movements as silent as a cat's, and sealed the flap behind her, plunging the small space into near darkness, illuminated only by the faint moonlight filtering through the canvas.
"What do you want, Lana?" I asked, my voice a low growl. The shadow blade in my hand did not dissipate.
"Oh, put that away," she purred, waving a dismissive hand. "You don't need it. We're all friends here." She took a step closer. The air grew thick, charged with a tension that had nothing to do with the trials.
"I was just thinking," she began, her voice a soft, conspiratorial whisper. "About poor, dear Edgar. It was so tragic. To win his fight, only to die from his wounds right after. So very, very unlucky."
She paused, letting the words hang in the darkness. My mind raced, sifting through possibilities, calculating odds.
"The thing is," she continued, her voice dropping even lower, "I'm a very light sleeper. And I was the first one to break free from my little crystal cage, you know. I was so bored, just waiting for everyone else. So I watched."
The shadow blade in my hand wavered.
"I watched you, Dante," she whispered, her face now just inches from mine. I could smell the scent of the forest on her, mixed with something wild and dangerous that was purely her own. "I watched you comfort him. I watched you send him to look at the other cages. And I watched you lay him on the ground so very… gently."
My blood ran cold. She had seen it. She had seen everything. This wasn't a random visit. This was a checkmate.
My first thought was to kill her. Right here, right now. One swift strike, and the threat would be eliminated. But it was a fool's gambit. She was too strong, too unpredictable. A fight, no matter how brief, would make noise. It would wake the others. And then would come the questions, the suspicion. My carefully constructed facade of the noble, grieving leader would shatter. I was trapped.
I let the shadow blade dissolve into nothing. I was a king, and a king knows when to negotiate.
"Fine," I said, my voice a flat, empty thing. "What do you want?"
Her smile was blinding, a flash of predatory triumph in the dark. "What do I want?" she echoed, her voice a husky purr. She reached out and traced a single finger down my chest, her touch sending a jolt through my system that was equal parts desire and alarm. "That's simple, Dante. I want you."
She leaned in, her lips brushing against my ear. "No more games. No more sharing you with that pathetic little fire-starter. Tonight… you and I are going to have a lovely night together. You owe me that. It's the price for my silence."
I looked into her wild, amethyst eyes. They were shining with a possessive, triumphant light. She had me, and she knew it. She had maneuvered me into a corner where my logic and my power were useless. My only move was to capitulate. It was the most efficient path, the one with the least risk to my long-term goals.
A debt had been incurred. And a tyrant always pays his debts.
"Fine," I said, the word tasting like ash. "Let's do it your way."
The triumph in her eyes softened into a deep, intoxicating hunger. "I knew you'd see it my way," she whispered. She didn't wait for another invitation. Her hands moved from my chest up to my neck, pulling my face down to hers. Her kiss was not gentle or tender. It was a conquest. It was bruising, demanding, a desperate claiming of a prize she had won through cunning and blackmail.
Her lips were soft, but her teeth grazed my bottom lip, a sharp, possessive little bite that sent a shock of pure, primal sensation through me. Her body pressed against mine, all soft curves and hard, wiry strength. One of her hands tangled in my hair, holding my head in place, while the other began to work at the clasps of the Manacore Pendant around my neck. With a soft click, it came free, and she tossed it carelessly into the corner of the tent.
"No distractions," she murmured against my lips, before her hands moved lower, pulling at the hem of my shirt…