The forest was silent in the way only places of recent slaughter could be—a heavy, oppressive quiet that pressed against the ears like physical weight.
Adrian stood among the dead, his sword still in hand though his crimson flame had long since been dismissed. Around him, the five other survivors of the night's horror remained frozen in their own private hells. Finn's yellow flame had guttered out, leaving him looking younger than his years, his analytical mind clearly racing. Edric's green had faded, exhaustion claiming the strength that had sustained him through battle. Marcus and Sara from Alice's decimated patrol simply stood, white flames extinguished, eyes distant with trauma.
And somewhere in the darkness ahead, torches approached.
The sound came first—hoofbeats, the jangle of armor, the organized movement of disciplined warriors. Then light spilled through the trees as Sir Varic crested the rise with a full squad of knights at his back.
Adrian watched them come, and felt the weight of his choice settle over him like armor being donned. No more hiding. No more careful calculations. Whatever consequences came from revealing crimson flame, he would face them.
He just hoped he'd made the right choice.
Varic reined in his horse at the edge of the carnage, his scarred face going still as he took in the scene. Bodies scattered across blood-soaked cobblestones. The burned remains of the demon noble's corpse. Six squires standing amid devastation that should have killed them all.
"Gods," someone breathed behind Varic.
The knight commander's eyes swept across the battlefield with the practiced assessment of a veteran who'd seen too many massacres. Adrian watched him count bodies—eight squires from the patrol, Brann sprawled where the demon had thrown him, Knight-Captain Thorne face-down with his back torn open, Sir Gregor collapsed beside his captain.
Varic's jaw tightened. Then his gaze found Adrian, and something shifted in those sharp eyes. Recognition. Assessment. And perhaps the faintest hint of concern.
"You," Varic said, his voice carrying across the distance. "Blackthorn. Report."
Adrian stepped forward, aware of how he must look—covered in blood, some his own and much not, exhausted but still standing while knights lay dead around him. A squire who'd somehow survived what veteran warriors hadn't.
"Sir." Adrian's voice was steady despite everything. "Demon ambush. The merchant was a noble-class demon in disguise. When the patrol engaged, it released dozens of lesser demons from the wagon. They overwhelmed the patrol before most could properly react."
Varic dismounted, his boots hitting the stones with authority. "And the knights?"
"The demon noble killed them, sir. Knight-Captain Thorne and Sir Gregor fought bravely, but—" Adrian's voice hardened. "The demon used blood anima. Absorbed the life force of the fallen to enhance itself. Made it powerful enough to defeat even experienced knights."
Murmurs rippled through the assembled knights. Blood anima was forbidden, feared, the technique that had made demons so devastating in the ancient wars.
"Blood anima," Varic repeated, his expression darkening. "You're certain?"
"We were taught the theory in lectures, sir. We witnessed it tonight." Finn's voice joined Adrian's, surprising in its steadiness. "The demon consumed the blood of the dead to fuel its runes, to regenerate, to become stronger. Just as Instructor Halbrecht described, but—" His voice faltered slightly. "But seeing it happen is different than learning about it."
Varic's eyes swept to Finn, lingering on him with interest before returning to Adrian. "How did you survive? Six squires against a blood-enhanced demon noble? Even with proper training, that should have been impossible."
This was it. The moment where Adrian either continued the lies or honored the choice he'd made over Brann's body.
"Because we stopped hiding what we were, sir."
Varic's eyes narrowed. "Explain."
Adrian drew a breath, aware that every word now would be reported, documented, investigated. "My spirit flame isn't white, sir. It never has been. I've been hiding my true color since I arrived at the academy because I knew that revealing it would bring questions I couldn't answer, suspicion I couldn't deflect. But tonight, when the demon killed Brann—when it was about to kill all of us—I stopped hiding."
"And your true color is?" Varic asked, though something in his tone suggested he already suspected the answer.
"Crimson, sir."
The silence that followed was absolute. Even the horses seemed to sense the weight of that revelation, shifting nervously.
One of Varic's knights found his voice first. "Crimson? That's... that doesn't exist. There's no record of—"
"I know," Adrian interrupted quietly. "That's why I hid it. Because unprecedented spirit colors make people assume corruption, demonic influence, threat. But I'm not corrupted, sir. I've been fighting demons since I arrived. Tonight I used my crimson flame to kill the demon noble that had just murdered two of your knights. If I were truly demonic, would I have done that?"
Varic studied him for a long moment, those sharp eyes searching for deception. "Show me."
Adrian hesitated. This was it—the complete revelation, no taking it back. He drew his sword and reached inward, past the careful walls he'd maintained for months, and let the crimson blaze.
Fire erupted along his blade—not the soft white of foundation spirit, but deep, rich crimson that seemed to pull light into itself rather than radiate it. It burned with power that made the air feel heavier, denser, wrong in a way that set mortal instincts screaming.
The knights backed away instinctively, hands moving to weapons. Even Varic tensed, though he didn't reach for his blade.
"Gods above," someone whispered.
"That's demon fire," another said, voice tight with fear.
"It's not," Adrian said firmly, keeping the crimson steady and controlled. "It's my spirit flame. I've had it since I first manifested, years ago on the border. I don't know why it's crimson. I don't know what it means. I only know that I've used it to fight demons, not serve them."
Varic's expression was unreadable as he studied the crimson flame. Finally, he spoke. "Extinguish it."
Adrian did so immediately, the crimson dying to leave only steel.
"And you're not the only one who revealed their true color tonight," Varic said. It wasn't a question.
"No, sir." Adrian glanced at Finn, at Edric. "When I revealed crimson to fight the demon noble, others manifested their colors as well. Finn's yellow—" he gestured toward the fisherman's son "—which proved crucial because yellow flame disrupts blood anima. And Edric's green, which helped hold the line."
"Yellow," Varic breathed, his eyes snapping to Finn with new intensity. "The purifying light. That's exceptionally rare. One of the rarest manifestations."
"Yes, sir," Finn said quietly. "It emerged when we witnessed the demon using blood anima. When we saw our friends' deaths fuel the enemy's power. That's what triggered the manifestation."
Varic nodded slowly, processing. "And the two who were escorted away separately?"
The ones he means Alice and Mira, Adrian thought. The ones Varic's knights had immediately pulled aside the moment they arrived, before any questioning began.
"They also revealed their true colors tonight, sir," Adrian said carefully. "But their situation is... complicated."
"Complicated," Varic repeated flatly. "The girl with violet flame—legendary violet that hasn't been seen in three centuries—and her companion with orange, the guardian flame of House Elbrecht. Yes, I'd call that complicated."
So he already knew. Or at least suspected.
"The violet-bearer's identity is not mine to reveal, sir," Adrian said. "But she fought bravely. Saved lives. Whatever else she is, she's a warrior."
"She's the princess," Varic said bluntly, and Adrian saw Marcus and Sara's eyes widen—they hadn't fully processed that revelation yet. "And before you worry about keeping that secret, know that it's already being contained. The king will be informed, certainly, but the general populace doesn't need to know his daughter was nearly killed on a routine patrol."
He turned his attention back to Adrian.
"But you—you've chosen to reveal your crimson flame rather than continue hiding. Why? You could have maintained the deception, reported only white manifestation, continued whatever mission or purpose brought you here. Why expose yourself now?"
Adrian looked at Brann's body, at the friend who'd died because Adrian had hesitated.
"Because I'm tired of secrets costing lives, sir. Brann died tonight. Maybe he would have died anyway, but maybe if I'd acted immediately instead of calculating how to preserve my cover, he'd still be alive. Maybe some of the others would be too." His gray eyes met Varic's without flinching. "I won't make that mistake again. Whatever consequences come from revealing crimson flame, I'll face them. But I'm done letting people die to protect my secrets."
The honesty of it seemed to surprise Varic. He studied Adrian for a long moment, then nodded slowly.
"You understand that this revelation will bring investigation. The academy will want to study you, understand your flame. The crown will want assurances you're not a threat. There will be tests, questions, suspicions you may not be able to fully address."
"I understand, sir."
"And you're willing to face that rather than continue hiding."
"I am, sir. I'm done hiding."
Varic was quiet for several heartbeats, his expression thoughtful. Finally, he turned to his assembled knights.
"You heard the report. A demon noble using blood anima, multiple unprecedented spirit manifestations, the deaths of two veteran knights and multiple squires. All of this will be documented and reported to the academy and crown." His voice hardened. "But know this—these squires fought demons tonight. Whatever questions we have about unusual spirit colors, they bled beside our knights. They're not the enemy here. Remember that."
It wasn't quite an endorsement, but it wasn't condemnation either. The knights nodded, though Adrian could see the uncertainty in their eyes when they looked at him.
"Support squad," Varic barked. "Strip the demon corpses of their runes. Every fragment is to be collected and cataloged—this is a demon noble's power, far more valuable than lesser demon runes. Move with care."
Knights dismounted and began the grim work of harvesting demon runes, carving glowing fragments from corpses with practiced efficiency. Adrian watched, noting how even experienced knights moved carefully around the noble's remains, aware of the power contained within.
"Once the runes are secured, burn the rest," Varic commanded. "Standard protocol—no demon remnant remains on kingdom soil."
Oil was poured. Sparks were struck. Within minutes, a pyre blazed, consuming demon flesh in flames that turned the night orange. The stench was overwhelming—sulfur and burning meat and something else, something fundamentally wrong that made mortal noses itch.
Varic turned back to the surviving squires.
"The bodies of our fallen will be returned to the city for proper burial. Their families will be notified. None will be forgotten." His voice carried the weight of someone who'd delivered too many such messages. "As for you six—you'll be escorted back to the academy immediately. You need medical attention, rest, and—" his eyes lingered on Adrian "—there are people who will want to speak with you. All of you, but especially you, Blackthorn."
"Yes, sir."
Several knights moved forward with horses. "Mount up. We ride for the city."
As Adrian moved toward a horse, Finn appeared at his side, his voice barely a whisper. "You really did it. Told them everything."
"I told them the truth about my flame," Adrian corrected quietly. "Not everything. But enough that I can stop hiding the crimson, at least."
"That's going to cause problems," Finn said, his analytical mind clearly racing through implications. "Big problems."
"I know."
"Was it worth it?"
Adrian looked back at Brann's body being carefully lifted by knights who would return him home. At the blood-soaked stones. At the evidence of a massacre that his deception hadn't prevented.
"Ask me again after we see what consequences come," Adrian said quietly. "But right now? Yes. It was worth it. Because I won't let anyone else die for my secrets."
Finn nodded slowly, accepting that. They mounted their horses in silence.
As the column formed up—knights surrounding the six surviving squires, the fallen being prepared for transport—Adrian caught Varic watching him with an expression that was hard to read. Not hostile, exactly. But not trusting either. Calculating. Assessing.
The ride back to Arathor would be long. And when they arrived, the real questions would begin.
Adrian had chosen truth over deception. Now he would discover if that choice would save him or doom him.
As they rode away from the battlefield, the pyre burning behind them lighting the forest like a fallen star, Adrian couldn't help but wonder if Brann would have approved of his choice.
He'd never know. But he'd honor his friend's memory by living honestly, whatever that cost.
Even if the cost was everything.