Before I could fully process the victory, the battlefield's golden glow began to fade. Lillian's containment barrier dissipated with a soft shimmer, the lingering light magic dissolving into harmless flecks in the air. A quiet hush settled over the field as everyone took in the results.
We had won.
I should have felt relieved. Triumphant, even. But my heart was still hammering, my body tense as if waiting for something else to happen.
Claire was the first to break the silence, throwing her arms up in celebration. "We actually did it! We won!"
Tessa let out a long breath, hands resting on her hips. "Barely," she muttered. "If we had hesitated even a second longer, we would have lost everything."
She wasn't wrong.
Diana, still lounging on the ground from where I had tackled her, propped herself up on her elbows, smirking at me. "I'll admit, I didn't expect you to go for such an aggressive maneuver at the last second. A bold choice."
I exhaled sharply, finally pulling myself together. "It was the only way to throw you off."
Diana's grin widened. "Mmm. Feel free to tackle me anytime, darling."
Claire screeched. "Oh my—can you NOT?!"
Tessa, to my utter horror, just nodded like it was a genuine tactical observation.
"Honestly, that was the best way to neutralize her," Tessa commented. "Diana thrives in controlled combat. If you keep her guessing, she can't fully execute her strategy."
Diana pouted. "Now you're just being mean."
Camille dusted off her uniform, watching the exchange with quiet amusement before glancing at Lillian. "So?"
Lillian didn't respond immediately.
Instead, she turned toward me, her gaze unreadable.
She had let go of my wrist the second the trial ended, but I could still feel the warmth of her touch. The way she had held me in place, not to restrain me, but to remind me.
You can still win this.
Had she… let me win?
No. Lillian wasn't the type to throw a match. She had played to the very end. But there was something in her gaze that made me feel like I had only won because she allowed the game to conclude.
I swallowed, forcing myself to break eye contact.
Ms. Liora, who had been watching this entire mess unfold with the mild amusement of a spectator at the best theater in town, finally clapped her hands together.
"Well, that was thoroughly entertaining."
Claire groaned, dragging a hand down her face. "Please don't say it like we're some kind of performance."
Ms. Liora's lips twitched. "Oh, but you are."
She let that sink in for a moment before continuing. "Sera Vandren's team has secured victory, but there are lessons to be learned all around. Let's review."
Oh.
No.
I barely had the strength to survive that battle, and now we had to go over everything we did wrong?
Ms. Liora turned to me first. "Sera, what did you do well?"
I hesitated. "Um… strategy?"
A single delicate eyebrow rose. "You're going to have to be more specific than that."
I exhaled. "I played into Diana's strengths at first to let her think she had control, used Claire's illusion to bait Lillian, and then relied on instinct at the last moment."
Liora nodded approvingly. "Good. You adapted. But where did you go wrong?"
That one was easier.
I sighed. "I underestimated Lillian's ability to completely lock down the battlefield. She cut off our paths faster than I anticipated, and Camille's ice magic nearly trapped us."
"Correct," Ms. Liora said smoothly. "You focused too much on deception without accounting for how your opponents would respond once the truth was revealed. A gamble that worked this time—but what if Lillian had figured out the switch just a second earlier?"
I didn't have an answer for that.
Because if she had, I wouldn't have been able to do anything.
Ms. Liora moved her attention to Lillian. "And what about you?"
Lillian remained composed as ever, hands folded neatly in front of her. "I over-calculated," she said simply.
That made me blink.
Over-calculated?
Ms. Liora hummed. "Explain."
Lillian exhaled lightly, as if she had already dissected everything in her mind. "I accounted for every major movement and tactical shift. But I assumed Sera would hesitate when cornered. Instead, she acted on instinct."
I stiffened.
Ms. Liora nodded. "Indeed. You expected Sera to think through every possibility, so you layered your traps accordingly. But she broke pattern. You adapted, but by the time you adjusted, the clock had run out."
Lillian didn't argue. She only nodded.
It was a strange feeling.
I had won, but why did it feel like Lillian had gained something from losing?
Ms. Liora turned back to the group. "All of you displayed commendable skill. But remember—the best strategy does not always guarantee victory. A plan is only as good as its execution."
Her gaze lingered on me for a second too long, and I knew she wasn't just talking about this battle.
Something in her eyes told me that this—all of this—was just the beginning.
She smiled. "That concludes today's trial. You're all dismissed."
Relief flooded me.
Finally. Finally, I could—
"Wait."
Lillian's voice cut through the air, and I immediately tensed.
I turned slowly, only to see her stepping toward me, her emerald gaze locked onto mine.
"I'd like to speak with Sera. Privately."
Claire choked.
Tessa made a face like she'd just predicted an incoming storm.
Diana smirked knowingly.
And me?
I forgot how to breathe.
What.
The battlefield had barely settled before Lillian called me out.
I felt every pair of eyes snap toward me, and suddenly, the thrill of victory was replaced by a growing sense of dread.
A private conversation? With Lillian Aurora?
Nothing good ever came from one-on-one encounters with her.
Claire choked on air, slapping my arm repeatedly in panic. "Sera, you're about to die."
Tessa didn't say anything, but she gave me a look. The kind of look that said 'You're either about to be assassinated or recruited into some kind of secret scheme.'
Diana, of course, was thoroughly enjoying this. "How scandalous," she mused, placing a hand over her chest. "Oh, don't mind us. We'll give you two plenty of privacy."
Camille hummed. "She did say privately, didn't she?"
I turned to Ms. Liora, silently pleading for help, but the professor merely smiled.
"That sounds reasonable," she said, far too entertained by the situation.
Traitor.
The battlefield began clearing as everyone gathered their things, but I stood frozen, staring at Lillian.
Her expression remained as unreadable as ever. Composed, elegant—completely in control.
I swallowed hard. No escape.
"Fine," I muttered, reluctantly stepping toward her. "Let's talk."
Claire shot me two thumbs up.
Diana winked.
Tessa? She just gave me a nod that clearly meant 'I'll be praying for your survival.'
I shot them all a glare before following Lillian through the mist.
She didn't speak immediately.
Her pace was unhurried, her posture as poised as ever, but I could tell something was on her mind.
She waited until the battlefield was fully out of sight, the noise of the others fading into the background.
Then, she turned to face me.
For a long moment, she didn't say anything.
She just watched me.
I tensed, fighting the urge to fidget under her gaze. "So?" I forced out, trying to keep my voice even. "What do you want to talk about?"
Lillian studied me for another excruciatingly long second before finally speaking.
"You're improving."
I blinked. "What?"
Her lips curved slightly. "In combat. In strategy. In how you read your opponents."
I stared. "That's what this is about?"
Her smile didn't falter. "You surprised me today."
I crossed my arms, trying to gather my thoughts. "I surprised you?"
Lillian nodded, slow and deliberate. "You've always been unpredictable, Sera. But I didn't expect you to abandon calculation entirely in those final moments."
I frowned. "It wasn't—" I hesitated, realizing something.
She was right.
In that last moment, I had acted entirely on instinct. Not a carefully crafted move, not something planned multiple steps ahead.
I had just reacted.
"You didn't anticipate that?" I asked cautiously.
Lillian's gaze flickered with something thoughtful. "I expected you to hesitate."
I stiffened.
"Not out of weakness," she clarified smoothly, "but because that's how you play. You calculate, you analyze, you hesitate until you're sure."
I inhaled sharply, heart pounding.
Lillian wasn't wrong.
But neither was I.
The person standing before her wasn't the same girl from the start of the academy. I had changed. I had been changed.
And it wasn't just because of the original Sera Vandren's instincts.
It was because of everything I had been through.
The training at the Vandren estate with my father, mother, and Diana had been brutal. I had spent days being broken down and rebuilt, pushed past my limits, forced to face my own weaknesses. My father's relentless combat training had left no room for hesitation—his drills had drilled efficiency and instinct into me until dodging, countering, and striking became second nature.
My mother had made sure I could control my magic, no longer treating my fire and ice as separate forces but as two parts of the same whole. I had learned how to switch between them fluidly, how to use fire's aggression and ice's control in perfect balance.
And then there was Diana.
She had taught me how to think differently. Not just how to fight, but how to win.
She had forced me to analyze my opponent beyond their movements—to pick apart their weaknesses, habits, and tells before they even made a move. She had made me learn how to lie in battle, how to manipulate perception, how to bait my enemy into a false sense of control.
And today?
That training had saved me.
I wasn't just borrowing from the original Sera Vandren's memories.
I was becoming someone entirely new.
Lillian studied me carefully, her emerald eyes flickering with something thoughtful.
"You hesitated just now," she murmured.
I tensed. "I was thinking."
She smiled, tilting her head slightly. "Exactly."
She had expected me to hesitate.
Not out of fear.
But because she knew how I fought.
She had studied me. Observed me. She had always expected me to overthink, to weigh every option before making a move.
But I hadn't.
I had acted on instinct.
Something in Lillian's expression shifted.
"So tell me, Sera." Her voice was smooth, effortless. "What changed?"
I knew what she was doing.
She was pressing. Pushing to see if I would reveal something. If I would admit that something was different.
I couldn't let her know.
I couldn't let her realize that a part of me—the part that had fought back against her with absolute certainty, the part that had outmaneuvered her today—wasn't just mine.
Because the truth was, I didn't know where my instincts ended and the original Sera's began.
And that terrified me.
I exhaled slowly, masking my thoughts behind a smirk. "I guess I'm just full of surprises."
Lillian smiled faintly. "That you are."
There was something else in her gaze.
Something deeper.
I wasn't sure if I liked it.
"Still," she continued, "I wonder…"
Her voice was almost too soft to hear.
"How much of you belongs to you—and how much belongs to what was left behind?"
My blood ran cold.
That wasn't a casual question. That wasn't something she had just thought of.
She had noticed.
Somewhere, during this trial, she had seen something—something in the way I fought, the way I reacted, the way I moved—and she had recognized it.
She had recognized that I wasn't just the same Sera she had known before.
I needed to shut this down.
"There's nothing else," I said quickly, too quickly.
Lillian's gaze didn't waver.
She didn't press.
She didn't need to.
Because the way she smiled?
That knowing, unreadable, dangerous smile?
She had already decided exactly what she believed.
And somehow, that was worse.
For a long moment, neither of us spoke. The battlefield had long since fallen silent, the fading mist curling softly around us like the remnants of an unresolved battle. Even after everything, the tension between us hadn't faded—it had merely changed into something quieter, something heavier.
Lillian exhaled softly, the sound barely audible. Then, without warning, she broke the silence.
"Even though I'm a princess, it's still embarrassing to have you see this serious side of me."
I blinked, caught off guard.
Lillian's voice was light, almost casual, but there was something beneath it. Something unspoken.
She smiled, but it wasn't her usual poised, carefully controlled expression. It was something quieter, almost self-conscious.
"You see me as the gentle and soft type, don't you?" she asked.
My throat went dry.
She had asked it like a joke, but I could tell she wasn't entirely joking.
The truth was…
Yes.
Lillian Aurora had always been elegant. Effortless. The perfect noblewoman—the type of person who moved like a delicate painting, untouched by the dirt and blood of reality. Even when she fought, she did so with a kind of graceful certainty, as if she were merely dancing rather than engaging in a battle of strategy and survival.
So seeing her like this?
Seeing her serious, calculating, undeniably dangerous?
It unnerved me.
I looked away, staring at the ground. "Maybe…"
It wasn't much of an answer, but it was all I could manage.
Lillian tilted her head slightly, her golden hair catching the last remnants of light filtering through the mist. She regarded me with a quiet kind of curiosity, waiting, watching.
Then—she took a step closer.
Not enough to be overwhelming, but enough to feel it.
Enough to remind me that she was here, standing right in front of me, waiting for an answer I didn't know how to give.
"That's what you think of me?" she murmured.
I hesitated. "…That's how you usually are."
Lillian's expression didn't change, but something in her eyes shifted.
"And if I'm not?"
My fingers twitched at my sides.
That was the real question, wasn't it?
If Lillian wasn't just the soft, refined, gentle noblewoman everyone believed her to be—then who was she?
Had she always been like this? Had she always been so… unshakable, so commanding, so undeniably brilliant?
Or had I simply never noticed?
I didn't know what answer she was hoping for.
I wasn't sure if I wanted to know.
Lillian studied my face for a moment longer, as if searching for something.
Then—she smiled.
A small, quiet smile. Not mocking, not unreadable—just a little too knowing.
"I see," she murmured.
She let that settle between us, her gaze never leaving mine, and for some reason, it felt like she had just won something.
I hated it.
Before I could even attempt to recover, she stepped away, her usual graceful composure returning like a well-worn cloak.
"Well then," she said lightly, adjusting her gloves, as if the moment had never happened. "I suppose I'll have to change your perception of me, won't I?"
The way she said it—so effortless, so certain—sent a shiver down my spine.
I had the distinct feeling that I had just made a terrible mistake.