Part IV — Beneath the Blood Moon
"But I'm not handing him over."
The words remained suspended in the silence of Room B-17 long after Castiel had spoken them.
He stood beside the window, his fingers wrapped around the communication shard, watching David's distant figure beneath the crimson moonlight.
It was easy enough to make such a promise when no one else was listening.
Keeping it would be another matter entirely.
Azrion was not someone who accepted failure, and Castiel understood better than most what happened to those who deliberately disobeyed the authority of a Blood Ascendant.
His older brother had inherited more than their father's title.
He had inherited his influence, his responsibilities, and the power to command forces that stretched far beyond a single world.
And now he wanted David.
Not immediately.
Not until the anomaly had developed to a level Azrion considered appropriate.
But eventually, the order would come.
Castiel lowered his gaze toward the shard resting in his palm.
He had spent so much of his life following instructions that the idea of openly defying his family should have terrified him.
Perhaps it did.
Yet the thought of leading David into his brother's hands frightened him considerably more.
He turned away from the window and slowly crossed the room.
The familiar surroundings offered little comfort.
David's desk stood exactly where it always had, cluttered with books, Academy assignments, and a few personal belongings he had never bothered to organize. His jacket remained draped over the chair, one sleeve hanging toward the floor.
Castiel stopped beside it.
He remembered teasing David about the mess.
David had responded by pointing toward Castiel's own desk, which had hardly been in better condition.
The argument had lasted several minutes before June interrupted them with some ridiculous observation about their inability to survive without someone cleaning up after them.
Castiel could almost hear his voice.
For the briefest moment, the memory brought the faintest smile to his face.
Then it disappeared.
Those moments felt impossibly distant now.
He reached toward the jacket but stopped before touching it.
David had trusted him.
From their first days at the Academy, that trust had grown through shared training, difficult assignments, and battles where neither could have survived without the other.
Castiel had stood beside him when the odds were terrible.
He had fought alongside him when retreat seemed impossible.
And somewhere along the way, he had begun forgetting why he had been sent there in the first place.
That was the part he had never anticipated.
He had expected to learn about humanity.
He had expected to observe its soldiers, understand its weaknesses, and report whatever information might prove useful.
He had never expected to care about the people he was observing.
Certainly not enough to betray the family that had raised him.
Castiel looked toward David's empty bed.
"You really had to make things difficult, didn't you, D?"
His voice was quiet, carrying a familiar trace of sarcasm that sounded painfully out of place in the empty room.
He waited, almost expecting David to answer.
There was no response.
Castiel lowered himself onto the edge of his own bed.
The communication shard remained in his hand.
He stared at its dark surface, remembering Azrion's expression when he spoke about David.
The cold interest in his eyes.
The calculated patience.
The certainty that Castiel would eventually deliver the anomaly to him.
His brother had spoken about David as though he were something to be collected and examined.
An object whose value would increase as his abilities developed.
Not a person.
Not someone who laughed, argued, worried about his friends, or carried the weight of every life he failed to save.
Castiel closed his eyes.
He remembered Kharos Vale.
The battlefield had been filled with smoke, collapsing structures, and the constant thunder of distant explosions. The air had tasted of ash, and the ground had trembled beneath the movement of creatures and soldiers struggling for control of the planet.
He remembered the moment David decided to confront his father.
The anger in his friend's eyes had frightened him more than the destruction surrounding them.
David had been determined to avenge what had happened to Gamma Squad.
Castiel had tried to stop him.
He had warned him about the difference in their levels, about the overwhelming strength his father possessed, and about the impossibility of surviving such a confrontation.
But David had refused to turn away.
Castiel could still remember the helplessness he felt as his friend continued toward the danger.
He had wanted to follow.
He had wanted to stand beside David, even knowing what that might mean.
But he had hesitated.
For years, loyalty to his family had been something he never questioned.
Then David had entered his life, and the certainty surrounding that loyalty had begun to fracture.
On Kharos Vale, he had finally been forced to recognize how far those fractures had spread.
Castiel opened his eyes.
He remembered the journey toward Sector A-08.
The Fallen soldiers who had stood in his path.
The battles he had fought while making his way across the ruined terrain.
And the final Green-tier creature.
He could still picture it standing among the shattered rocks, its wounded body heaving as it struggled to remain upright.
There had been no human soldiers beside him.
No witnesses.
No one forcing him to act.
He had known what killing it would accomplish.
The final stage of Whitefall would begin, securing Kharos Vale for humanity and preventing the Fallen from claiming the planet through Greyfall.
He had made the decision himself.
And when the creature finally fell, he had watched the atmosphere begin to change.
The oppressive clouds had slowly broken apart.
The light had returned.
The wounded planet had begun to heal.
For a moment, Castiel had felt something he had never expected.
Relief.
He had helped save an entire world.
Yet even that victory had come at a terrible cost.
Nyra was dead.
David was grieving.
And the future they had imagined before Kharos Vale seemed to have vanished along with her.
Castiel leaned forward, resting his elbows against his knees.
He had lied to Azrion.
He had lied about David.
He had lied about the soldiers.
He had lied about the final creature.
And he knew he would have to keep lying if he wanted to protect the people who had become important to him.
The realization exhausted him.
For years, deception had been a necessary part of his life.
He had worn a name that concealed his bloodline, followed instructions he could never explain, and maintained relationships that were supposed to serve a purpose.
But David had changed the meaning of those relationships.
Castiel no longer knew where the assignment ended and his real life began.
Perhaps there was no separation anymore.
He looked toward the window.
The Blood Moon hung above the Academy, its crimson light stretching across the floor and climbing the walls.
David was still standing on the rooftop.
Castiel wondered what his friend was thinking.
Whether he was remembering Nyra's smile.
Her voice.
The way she looked at him when she thought no one else was paying attention.
Castiel had noticed those things.
He had seen the way David's expression softened whenever Nyra approached, even when David himself seemed unaware of it.
He had seen how naturally they stood beside each other.
How their conversations could continue long after everyone else had grown tired.
There had been something between them that neither seemed ready to say aloud.
And now there might never be another opportunity.
Castiel swallowed.
He remembered Nyra fighting beside them.
He remembered her determination, the way she refused to abandon anyone, and the quiet strength she carried even when the situation seemed hopeless.
She had been part of Gamma Squad.
Part of their family.
And she was gone.
Castiel lowered his head.
He had spent so much time worrying about David's survival that he had never truly considered what would happen if David survived and Nyra did not.
Now he was watching the answer unfold through a dormitory window.
His friend had returned from Kharos Vale alive.
But something inside him had been left behind.
Castiel pressed his fingers against his forehead.
He had been able to lie to Azrion without allowing his voice to tremble.
He had been able to stand before the new Blood Ascendant and conceal the truth about everything he had done.
Yet sitting alone in the room he shared with David, he found himself struggling to maintain the same control.
His breathing became uneven.
He stared at the communication shard.
He thought about how easily his brother had spoken of eliminating David.
How casually the Council had considered whether the anomaly should be destroyed or studied.
And how little any of them seemed to care about the lives that had been lost.
To Azrion, Kharos Vale had been a failed operation.
To the Council, Whitefall had been a strategic defeat.
To Castiel, it had been the place where everything he believed about himself had changed.
His hand began to tremble.
He tightened his grip on the shard, but the movement continued.
For the first time since returning to Earth, he allowed himself to consider what might happen if David ever learned the truth.
What would David say if he discovered that Castiel's father had been responsible for the suffering on Kharos Vale?
What would he do if he learned that his closest friend had known more about the enemy than he had ever admitted?
Would he understand why Castiel had hidden the truth?
Would he believe that their friendship had become genuine?
Or would every shared memory become another piece of evidence that Castiel had been deceiving him from the beginning?
The thought hurt more than he expected.
He could endure his brother's anger.
He could endure the Council's suspicion.
But the possibility of seeing hatred in David's eyes was something he did not know how to face.
Castiel bowed his head.
A tear slipped down his cheek.
He wiped it away immediately, almost angrily, as though refusing to acknowledge it would restore the control he had maintained for so long.
It didn't.
Another tear followed.
Then another.
Castiel pressed his free hand against his eyes.
He had spent years learning how to conceal his emotions, how to remain composed under pressure, and how to speak without revealing what he truly thought.
None of that training helped him now.
He was sixteen years old.
And for the first time in his life, he felt as though he had no one he could turn to.
His father was dead.
His brother had become the very authority he feared.
And the one person he trusted most was standing alone on a rooftop, grieving someone Castiel had been unable to save.
He slowly raised his head toward the window.
David had moved closer to the railing.
Castiel watched him carefully.
Something about his friend's posture had changed.
David was no longer standing with both arms resting at his sides. One hand remained against the railing while the other had begun to rise.
Castiel frowned.
"D?"
His voice barely carried across the room.
On the rooftop, David extended his hand into the empty air.
Castiel leaned forward, trying to understand what he was seeing.
There was nothing in front of David.
No one standing beside him.
No movement beyond the faint shifting of his clothes in the night breeze.
Yet David was reaching outward as though someone were standing just beyond the railing.
Castiel felt his chest tighten.
He knew David was grieving.
He knew the loss of Nyra had left him struggling to accept what had happened.
But watching his friend reach toward something that wasn't there was more painful than anything Castiel had imagined.
"Come on, D," he whispered. "Please don't do this to yourself."
David remained near the railing.
His hand stretched farther.
Castiel rose from the bed, still holding the communication shard.
For a moment, he considered rushing upstairs.
He could reach the rooftop in minutes.
He could stand beside David, say something ridiculous, and try to pull him away from whatever memory had trapped him there.
That was what he would have done before Kharos Vale.
He would have found some sarcastic remark, something irritating enough to make David turn around and tell him to shut up.
And perhaps David would have smiled.
Even if only for a moment.
But Castiel couldn't make himself move.
He had just spent the better part of the evening speaking with the man who intended to use him to betray David.
He had agreed to report on his friend's abilities.
He had promised obedience to an authority he no longer trusted.
And now, looking at David beneath the Blood Moon, he felt unworthy of standing beside him.
His eyes began to burn.
"I'm sorry, D."
The words escaped before he could stop them.
He looked down at the shard.
"I'm so sorry."
He had known his father was dangerous.
He had known that the assignment he had been given could eventually place David in danger.
But he had never imagined the consequences would reach this far.
Never imagined Nyra would die.
Never imagined David would be left standing alone beneath a blood-red moon, reaching for someone who could never answer him.
Castiel's breathing grew unsteady.
"It's all my fault, D."
His voice cracked.
He tried to steady himself, but the words he had kept buried since Kharos Vale were finally beginning to surface.
"I didn't know this would happen. I didn't mean for Nyra to die."
He lowered his head.
The tears came more freely now, slipping down his cheeks and falling onto the dark surface of the shard.
He remembered David laughing during their first weeks at the Academy.
He remembered the way his friend had defended him without hesitation, the countless times they had trusted each other in battle, and the quiet understanding that had grown between them.
David had never treated him as an outsider.
Never demanded that he prove he belonged.
He had simply accepted him.
And Castiel had repaid that trust with secrets.
He had told himself that hiding the truth was necessary.
That he could protect David without ever revealing who he really was.
But now he wondered whether that had been another lie he had told himself.
A sudden movement on the rooftop drew his attention.
David's outstretched hand faltered.
For a brief moment, he remained frozen, his fingers extended toward the empty space beyond the railing.
Then his shoulders tightened.
Even from this distance, Castiel could see the change.
Something had happened.
Something had broken.
And then the scream came.
"NYRA!"
The name tore through the night.
Castiel flinched.
The sound reached him through the dormitory window, carrying across the Academy grounds with a grief so raw that it seemed to strip away every defense he had left.
He had heard David shout in battle.
He had heard him call warnings, issue commands, and cry out in pain.
But he had never heard anything like this.
There was no anger in the scream.
No determination.
Only the unbearable sound of someone who had lost the person he loved and could do nothing to bring her back.
Castiel stood motionless.
He watched David collapse against the railing, his body trembling beneath the crimson moonlight.
For a moment, Castiel forgot about Azrion.
Forgot about the Council.
Forgot about the orders he had been given.
All he could see was his friend.
The boy who had trusted him.
The boy who had fought beside him.
The boy who had somehow become more important than the family Castiel had spent his entire life trying to obey.
And Castiel knew he had failed him.
He had helped save Kharos Vale.
He had prevented Greyfall.
He had protected his identity and convinced Azrion that his loyalty remained intact.
But none of those things could change what had happened to Nyra.
None of them could take away David's pain.
Castiel's knees weakened.
He slowly sank onto the edge of his bed, the communication shard still clenched in his hand.
His shoulders began to shake.
He tried to control his breathing, but each attempt only made the pressure in his chest worse.
"I'm sorry," he whispered again.
The words sounded painfully small.
He looked toward the rooftop through blurred vision.
"I hope one day you can forgive me, D."
His voice broke completely.
He had never intended for their friendship to become real.
Never intended to care about David as much as he did.
And he had certainly never imagined that the greatest danger to that friendship would come from his own family.
But somewhere between their first day at the Academy and the horrors of Kharos Vale, Castiel had stopped seeing David as an assignment.
He had become the brother Castiel wished he had grown up with.
Someone he could laugh with.
Someone he could trust.
Someone who made him believe that the life he had been living did not have to be the only life he would ever know.
Now that same friend was suffering, and Castiel could do nothing except watch.
He bent forward, pressing his forehead against his trembling hand.
The shard dug into his palm, but he barely noticed.
For several minutes, the only sounds in the room were his uneven breathing and the faint hum of the ventilation system.
Eventually, he lifted his head.
His gaze returned to the window.
David remained on the rooftop, his figure barely moving beneath the crimson light.
Castiel wanted to go to him.
He wanted to tell him everything.
About his father.
About Azrion.
About the orders he had received and the lies he had told.
He wanted to explain that his friendship had never been false, even if the circumstances that brought them together had been.
But he knew what such a confession might do.
David had already lost Nyra.
Learning that his closest friend had been hiding a connection to the enemy responsible for so much of his suffering might destroy whatever trust remained between them.
Castiel couldn't bear the thought of adding another wound.
Not tonight.
Perhaps not ever.
He looked down at the communication shard.
Azrion expected reports.
He expected obedience.
He expected Castiel to remain close to David until the time came to deliver him.
Castiel slowly closed his fingers around the shard.
He would continue sending information if that was what it took to keep his brother from becoming suspicious.
He would remain at the Academy.
He would stand beside David during training and whatever assignments came next.
And he would search for a way to protect his friend from the future Azrion had planned.
But he would never willingly lead David into his brother's hands.
Not after everything they had endured.
Not after seeing what Kharos Vale had done to him.
Castiel lowered his head once more.
The decision brought no comfort.
He knew that defying Azrion would eventually carry consequences.
He knew his brother would not remain patient forever.
And he knew that every report he sent would bring another opportunity for his lies to be discovered.
But for the first time, the choice itself felt clear.
David was his friend.
Whatever blood flowed through Castiel's veins, whatever name he had been born with, and whatever obligations his family believed he owed them, none of those things could change what David had become to him.
A brother.
Not by blood.
By choice.
Castiel covered his mouth, unable to stop himself from sobbing.
Above the Academy, the full moon had turned crimson.
Its blood-red light spilled through the dormitory window, illuminating Castiel's tear-streaked face.
He slowly raised his head.
In the reflection of the glass, his eyes began to change.
Their familiar color faded as crimson spread across both irises, growing brighter beneath the blood moon.
Castiel stared at his reflection.
The change was unmistakable.
For the first time since entering the Academy, the eyes looking back at him revealed the bloodline he had spent so long concealing.
The boy the Academy knew as Castiel Nightvale was someone else entirely.
Castiel Kael'tharyn.