The carriage left me at the Regent’s estate.

  Even among noble manors, his residence stood apart. High stone walls veined with ivy, iron gates polished to a mirror sheen. The kind of place that wasn’t just wealth - it was authority made into architecture.

  A servant in dark livery waited at the entrance. Without a word, he bowed low and guided me inside. The halls were quiet, draped in tapestries and lit by stained-glass windows that scattered colored light across marble floors. Eventually, he stopped before a set of wide double doors.

  “The Chancellor awaits in the Solarium.” he murmured, and opened them.

  Warm air and birdsong spilled in.

  I stepped out into the Regent’s garden. Or rather, his sanctuary.

  The Solarium stretched like a world of its own - stone paths weaving through what resembled koi ponds, exotic plants blooming in impossible colors, glass domes letting sunlight fall across every leaf. The air smelled of lilac and spice, foreign scents I couldn’t place.

  By the central pond stood the Regent. Silver-trimmed coat, pocket watch in hand, posture as casual as if he hadn’t just buried half the nobility in paperwork.

  He snapped the watch shut and turned with a wide grin. “Ah, Damian! Just the man I wanted to see.” His voice carried that practiced warmth, the kind that could disarm an army. “Come, walk with me.”

  The servant shut the doors behind me quickly, almost nervously. Then it was just the Regent and I, strolling past rare orchids and fountains carved from obsidian.

  “You’re not buried under reports like Arthur?” I asked dryly.

  He chuckled. “That’s Arthur’s burden, especially since his promotion. My job is the bigger picture. And when storms rise, I prefer the calm of a garden. It keeps the mind sharper than any quill.” He glanced at me. “How are you holding up?”

  “Alive,” I said.

  “Alive,” he echoed with satisfaction. “And because of you, so is Her Highness. You’ve done this city a service. After that display of courage, it’s obvious you belong among the nobility.”

  I frowned. “Funny. The judiciary council didn’t think so. My application was denied.”

  The Regent’s brow lifted, seemingly surprise. “Denied? Absurd. Unacceptable.” He shook his head with outrage. “Rest assured, Damian, you’ll have my full support in the matter. The Empire needs men like you.”

  My thoughts tightened. With Arthur, Mary, and now the Regent behind me, it was almost overkill. They wouldn’t be able to shut me out.

  We turned down a path that led to a rose garden. Black-iron arches supported blooming vines, roses bright as blood against the pale stone. I slowed, caught by their beauty.

  “Careful,” the Regent said lightly. “Their pollen is lethal in high doses. Stand as you are, you’ll be fine. But breathe too close… and it’ll rot your lungs within hours.” He laughed softly, plucking a blossom and twirling it in his fingers. “At least mine would. You, perhaps the Almighty would spare, considering you’ve been blessed with a divine pathway.”

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  I smirked faintly. “I’ll take your word for it.”

  But the laughter faded from his eyes. His tone shifted, weight settling into each word.

  “On that note, I have questions. Consider them the price of my support. Answer me without masks, Damian. As human as possible.”

  That pulled me up short as my eyes widened a bit. “...Alright. I'll do my best.”

  We walked in silence for a few paces before he asked.

  “Why do you want nobility so badly? Wealth, status, yes - but that doesn’t explain what you did in that mansion. According to Arthur and my niece, what drove you was… a conviction unbecoming of someone so inexperienced. What is it, Damian? What pushed you to bleed for them? I had originally assumed you may have fallen for my niece like so many others, but I believe my original assessment was wrong.”

  I thought about it. About the diary. About the words written in a hand that felt like mine but weren't. A dream overlooking an ocean that haunted me. The man who stood there, repeating what was written in my diary.

  Finally, I said. “Because humanity’s survival is tied to the Empire. If the Empire falls, we all fall, and I need power if I’m to make a difference. And Mary - she’s royal blood. A future powerhouse with her pathway and Veilwalker status. Protecting her means protecting that future.”

  The Regent studied me, looking intrigued. “So it isn’t hatred, then? You don’t despise the heretics for what they did to you?”

  “No.” My voice was flat, calm. “I see them for what they are. Enemies of the Empire. As long as they remain that, they’ll find no mercy from me. But hate clouds judgment. I deal in logic.”

  Also probably helps I don’t remember any of that so-called torture.

  For the first time, his smile seemed genuine. “Good. Very good. Logic where most would let vengeance rule them.”

  His eyes narrowed slightly, his voice low. “But tell me - how long will that logic last?”

  I frowned.

  “You have no family. No home. No history. Even your self-identity was taken from you by the Nameless Ones. Unlike most soldiers, you’ve nothing to lose. And that’s a weakness. Conviction rooted in love burns hotter, longer. A man with something to protect is far more dangerous than a man with only reason. So, Damian… when the weight grows too heavy, when there’s no reward in sight… what then? How long before your conviction breaks?”

  That one troubled me a bit. I searched for an answer, came up empty, and finally admitted a weakness I hadn’t acknowledged.

  “I don’t know. You’re right - I have nothing to lose except my life. Arthur and Adrian are the closest I’ve got to family. It may sound naive, but I believe that through living, I can start to gain back what I've lost. Maybe then I’ll find something worth losing. A place. People. Anything really.”

  I shrugged my arms, feeling somewhat awkward at my unprepared response.

  The Regent stopped walking. He stared at me with unreadable eyes.

  Then, voice flat as stone, he said. “You pass. Barely.”

  From his sleeve, a short hilt slid into his hand.

  With a click, steel unfurled - an elegant sword that seemed to unfold and lock into place, its guard embedded with a dull grey gemstone. In an instant, it was cloaked in shadows.

  My breath caught.

  I saw the premonition of the Regents strike against my throat, but it came faster than I could even think. Too fast. Impossible to dodge.

  But my own shadows erupted instinctively, coiling upward like a living shield. Steel coated with shadow met my shadow with a crack that shook the air. My shadows quickly consumed his strike, swallowing the shadows coating his blade before fading away as quickly as they came.

  I staggered back, heart pounding.

  What the fuck just happened?

  Yet the Regent only smiled. Wide, fascinated. Eyes glittering with amusement.

  “As I thought,” he said softly, almost to himself. “You’ve passed the second test with flying colours.”