In his dream, Rufi saw Diffy standing before a young man who was holding her hand. Diffy had never allowed him to touch her. Why was this stranger so brazen? Worse still, Diffy was smiling at him.

  Rufi stormed toward them, rage consuming him—but the man struck first, knocking him to the ground. Then they both laughed.

  Rufi jolted awake.

  To him, the dream felt real.

  Fury surged through his chest. His mind fixed on a single thought: killing the man who had stolen her smile.

  He flung his bedroom door open with a violent bang. Rhona and Sewor both snapped their heads toward the noise. Rufi marched out, his jaw clenched tight, the whites of his eyes tinged with a feral red. He didn't acknowledge either of them.

  Sewor knew instantly that something was wrong. He moved quickly, intercepting his brother before he reached the front door.

  "Rufi, where are you going at this hour?"

  "I have to kill that bastard!" Rufi growled, his voice rough with hatred.

  Rhona shivered where she sat. This wasn't the innocent, boyish Rufi from dinner. This was someone else entirely.

  Sewor seized his brother's shoulders, holding him firmly in place.

  "Rufi, snap out of it! It's me."

  The contact set him off.

  Rufi spun and unleashed a flurry of frantic, powerful strikes.

  Rhona watched, frozen. She was seeing a side of Sewor she had never imagined. The friendly village man moved with frightening precision. He parried each blow effortlessly, his body fluid and controlled, anticipating every strike before it landed.

  "Let me go! Don't stop me, Sewor!" Rufi screamed, fighting like a trapped animal.

  Realizing his brother was spiraling beyond reason, Sewor made a split-second decision. As Rufi lunged with a wild punch, Sewor stepped aside. His hand flashed, striking a precise nerve point at the base of Rufi's neck.

  Thwack.

  Rufi's body stiffened for a heartbeat—then went limp, collapsing like a puppet with its strings cut. Sewor caught him before he hit the floor.

  Silence reclaimed the room, broken only by Sewor's measured breathing.

  He lowered Rufi gently and placed two fingers against the boy's forehead and chest, steadying his racing pulse.

  Rhona sat rigid on the sofa, her knuckles white against the armrest. She had just witnessed high-level combat mastery. Subduing a frenzied attacker within seconds—without leaving a mark—that was no common skill.

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  That was discipline.

  Training.

  A warrior's control.

  Sewor lifted his brother's unconscious body. He looked pale now, exhaustion shadowing his features as his gaze drifted to Rhona.

  "Please... wait for me."

  Rhona watched him disappear down the hallway. Her thoughts churned. The warmth of the house had vanished. She was certain—absolutely certain—that Sewor had read her father's email.

  She glanced toward the door.

  As she rose to leave, a voice stopped her.

  "Don't go."

  Sewor stood in the dim hallway, half-shrouded in shadow. He stepped forward. Rhona instinctively retreated.

  "I—I can't stay here. Let me go."

  "Rain," Sewor said softly. "I'm certain you don't agree with your father's plan."

  The name struck her harder than a blow.

  Rhona gasped.

  If he had merely monitored her chat, he wouldn't sound like this. Not this familiar.

  Unless—

  "Mist..."

  The name slipped from her trembling lips.

  Sewor nodded slowly.

  "Fate has a strange sense of irony."

  Tears welled in Rhona's eyes. The person she had trusted with her deepest thoughts online was standing before her.

  "I... I didn't expect you to be Anex."

  "Is that a bad thing?"

  The question pierced her lingering prejudice. Rhona shook her head, mentally dismantling the doctrines her father had spent years building.

  "I'm sorry, Mist. I was biased. I don't want my father to take your people's forest. I know you're a good man—the best—but not everyone is like you. When I was lost in the Golden Forest, the Cygnus... they insulted me. They were arrogant."

  Sewor stiffened.

  She remembers?

  The memory-erasing powder Sera had used should have erased those moments. He realized then that his comrades must have mistreated her, believing she would never recall it.

  "But Mist," Rhona continued, her voice growing steadier, "I still don't support my father's plan. I won't. I—"

  Her words broke off.

  Sewor's hand suddenly gripped the side of her head.

  Her body tensed.

  She knew he possessed the strength to crush her skull. In his eyes, she saw a storm—conflict, fear, and something deeper: disappointment.

  "Mist... I mean it," Rhona whispered, forcing her voice to remain steady. "I don't want more victims of my father's greed. I promise I'll stop him—even if I have to stand against him myself. And if I can't stop him... then I'll stand with his victims."

  Sewor's breath faltered.

  "Even if that means standing with the Cygnus you despise?"

  Rhona met his gaze and nodded.

  "Even if I have to work with the Cygnus."

  A profound admiration flickered in Sewor's eyes. He lowered his hand but kept it extended toward her.

  "Take my hand."

  Rhona hesitated—then placed her hand in his.

  "I, Sewor, bequeath the blade I bear to Rhona Dingzu. It shall pass to her upon my death—or at my choosing. Say: 'I am willing.'"

  "I am willing... but—"

  A cold, solid weight materialized between their palms.

  Rhona gasped and pulled back.

  Sewor held it up.

  It was the most beautiful knife she had ever seen—less a weapon than a sacred relic.

  The blade was pale, matte white—smooth as polished porcelain. It reflected a soft, diffused glow rather than a sharp glint. At the base, a pair of wings were carved in relief, stretching outward with restrained grace. The handle was slender, wrapped in fine engravings like layered feathers, ending in a pommel shaped like folded wings—calm, solemn, and authoritative.

  It did not look bloodthirsty.

  That was precisely what made it terrifying.

  "This is The White Knife of Cygnus," Sewor said, his voice carrying quiet authority. "The blade of the Leader."

  Rhona staggered back until she hit the sofa.

  "Rhona, you are now a candidate of Cygnus. You are one of us." Sewor smiled, an immense relief washing over him. "At last, I've made the decision I've been postponing."

  Rhona could only stare, her eyes wide, as the axis of her world shifted irrevocably.

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