Aether is it?

The morning sun barely crested the eastern hedges when Ava stepped onto the dueling terrace behind House Albert.

The marble platform, framed by rose gardens and tall columns, had once been used for friendly sparring and ceremonial practice. Now, it felt like a stage for something more pointed.

Cassian was already there.

He stood with a training blade resting on his shoulder, wearing a smug grin like a second uniform. Their mother sat at a distance, poised beneath a white parasol with a tea set untouched beside her. A pair of silent retainers stood by the perimeter, pretending not to eavesdrop.

Ava strode to her side of the platform, her sword already strapped to her back.

"You know," she said coolly, "we already did this."

Cassian's grin widened. "But no one saw that one, remember?"

She narrowed her eyes.

"Right after I got home," she said. "You ambushed me before I even got to put my bags down."

He tilted his head. "Ambushed? I recall it as a simple warm welcome. Besides, you won. Shouldn't you be more confident now?"

Ava's fingers twitched at her side. "So why do it again?"

Cassian shrugged. "Maybe I'm bored. Maybe I want to remind everyone I'm not irrelevant. Maybe I just want to see if you've improved."

"You lost," Ava repeated. "Cleanly."

"And yet here you are, still arguing."

She said nothing more. Instead, she turned toward their mother.

"Do I have to go through with this?"

Lady Genevieve didn't blink. "You are the heir. You will be challenged—by allies, enemies, and your own kin. If you cannot endure your brother's posturing, what claim do you have to the title?"

Ava looked back to Cassian, who twirled his blade lazily.

"Fine," she said at last. "Let's get this over with."

The duel began with the formal gesture of respect—though neither meant it.

Cassian struck first, just like before—fast, sweeping arcs meant to overwhelm. His Aether radiated faint red energy, aggressive and crackling. A volatile style that fit him perfectly.

Ava parried quickly, her sword gleaming with a faint blue-white aura. Her Aether was cold, controlled—sharp without being brutal.

Their blades clashed with a metallic ring, and she pivoted smoothly under his follow-up strike. He was pushing harder than last time. More desperate.

"You're holding back," Cassian sneered, stepping forward again. "Come on, sister. Or are you afraid you only got lucky before?"

"I'm afraid I'll break your pride again," she shot back.

He grunted and pressed forward. The terrace echoed with the sound of steel.

Cassian was a stronger duelist than most gave him credit for. His footwork was erratic but sharp, his instincts honed through years of unspoken resentment. But Ava had changed.

Aethercrest had changed her.

She ducked a swing aimed at her shoulder, slipped behind him, and struck low—forcing him to stumble back. His guard broke for a moment.

"You've gotten faster," he muttered, shaking out his wrist.

"And smarter."

He grinned. "Still talk too much."

Then he released a short-range Aether burst from his palm.

Ava threw up a block, staggering back. It wasn't lethal—duels like this weren't meant to be—but it left her arm buzzing with static pain.

"You've improved too," she said, half-breathless.

"You were the reason I trained harder," he replied. "I had to become better."

She narrowed her eyes. "Then why are you still chasing my shadow?"

Cassian's grin slipped, just a little.

"I'm not chasing," he said. "I'm taking back what was stolen."

He surged again—harder, more reckless. The rhythm of the fight shifted. Ava fell back, defending more than attacking now. Her breath came faster, her shoulders tense.

This wasn't a spar anymore.

It was a message.

And she refused to be anyone's lesson.

Ava dropped low and swept his leg. Cassian stumbled, and in a blink, her blade was at his chest. The tip hovered—controlled, restrained.

One more step, and she'd drive it into his core. Not to kill. Just to end it.

Cassian breathed heavily, sweat darkening his collar.

"I yield," he said through clenched teeth.

Ava held the pose for one more heartbeat.

Then lowered her blade.

"Impressive," Lady Genevieve said as she stood, brushing imaginary dust from her sleeves. "Both of you."

She didn't smile, but her voice held a rare softness.

Cassian walked away wordlessly, jaw tight.

Ava stood alone on the terrace for a long while after everyone had gone. The scent of roses filled the air, and her blade gleamed under the morning light.

She thought of Vale. Of the academy. Of the world she had become part of.

Of the dreams that felt more like memories.

If I am Lyra… and he is Vale… what else is true about that world?

She didn't know the answers yet.

But her blade was steady.

And her feet were moving forward.