"We need to talk," Ingrid said quietly, her arms still crossed. "About what just happened. About my abilities."

Zaery n was at a loss for words. How could he possibly start explaining himself to Ingrid? He'd expected anger, maybe disgust, but this quiet, piercing intensity was somehow worse. And looking at it from her perspective acquiring her powers after sleeping with her yeah, it sounded shady as hell. Predatory, even. That was exactly what he'd been trying to avoid.

"Later," Genevieve interjected, placing a reassuring hand on Ingrid's rigid shoulder. "He needs to deal with Zelda and the director first." She looked at Zaeryn, her eyes usually so playful and warm now searching his face with genuine concern. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Zaeryn lied automatically, wiping sweat from his forehead. His hand came away trembling slightly. "I'm better than ever."

"You liar!" Ingrid said flatly, though her voice was trembling too, vibrating with barely contained emotion. "Your face is half-burnt, you almost got roasted by Leia's fire, and you just revealed your biggest secret to half the academy." She paused, her expression softening just enough to be noticeable, just enough to show the person beneath the anger. "But... that was impressive. Really impressive."

"Thank you," Zaeryn replied, genuinely grateful for the small concession.

But Ingrid's scowl returned almost immediately, her confusion and sense of betrayal overriding everything else. "My powers, though. How did you get them?"

"I'll explain, I promise," Zaeryn pleaded, gesturing helplessly toward the exit where Zelda had disappeared. "But right now I need to go."

Ingrid stared at him for a long, hard moment, her jaw working. Finally, she gave a stiff nod. "Fine. But don't think this is a conversation you're getting out of."

Zaeryn nodded emphatically. "I know." And he did. By how serious she was right now, he had no illusions that if he tried to dodge this conversation or lied to her, their fledgling relationship would be over before it really began.

"Go," Genevieve urged gently, giving his arm a quick squeeze. "Change. Talk to Zelda and whoever else. We'll be here when you're done."

"And then," Ingrid added, her tone brooking absolutely no argument, her stormy eyes locking with his, " you're explaining everything to us . Deal?"

Zaeryn nodded mutely and headed toward the changing alcove.

Ten minutes later, dressed in his Lyceum uniform hastily thrown on, still slightly worried Zaeryn stood outside Director Sorina's office. The polished oak door felt ancient and imposing, like the entrance to a throne room rather than an administrative office.

His face was still tender and swollen where Leia's flames had connected. He'd splashed cold water on it in the locker room, but the angry red mark near his eye was impossible to hide. It was still painful to the touch, throbbing in time with his pulse.

Though he didn't blame Leia for it. It seemed fair after he'd provoked her. More than fair, actually.

His hand hovered over the door, hesitating.

He reminded himself that he had nothing to worry about. Sorina was cool. She'd been welcoming, understanding. And more importantly, the Council was on his side, so it didn't matter if some people here saw him as a threat. He was protected.

Right?

He finally knocked, the sound echoing in the quiet hallway.

"Come in!" Sorina's warm, musical voice called out.

Zaeryn pushed the heavy door open. It creaked slightly a sound that felt oddly out of place in a high-tech academy.

The office was just as he remembered: warm, cluttered with books and data pads, smelling pleasantly of old paper and jasmine. Instructor Zelda was already there, standing stiffly near the desk, her arms crossed, her expression professionally neutral but her eyes sharp.

Director Sorina was perched casually on the edge of her own desk, dressed in a pencil skirt that showed off her legs and a form-fitting turtleneck that strained on the chest side. Her amber eyes immediately landed on Zaeryn's face specifically, the burn mark.

"Welcome, Zaeryn," she said, her tone shifting from casual to focused, clinical curiosity replacing her usual warmth. "Please, have a seat."

Somehow, walking in, Zaeryn couldn't help feeling like a student called to the principal's office for something serious. He sat down in the chair across from her desk, hyperaware of both women's gazes on him.

"Zaeryn," Sorina began, her friendly demeanor replaced by sharp, analytical interest, "Zelda has just given me a... fascinating report." She leaned forward slightly. "I need to understand this. How do you mimic Vitae signatures? Is it permanent? Temporary? What are the limitations?"

Zaeryn glanced at Zelda, then back to Sorina. He absolutely was not going to spill all his secrets, especially not the ones about bonds and intimacy in front of his hard-ass combat instructor.

"If the Council hasn't told you," Zaeryn deflected smoothly, "then that means it was meant to be kept confidential. Which means I can't say much. You'll have to ask the Council directly."

"Oh, the Council … knows?" Sorina asked, leaning forward with genuine surprise, her eyebrows raising.

Zaeryn sighed heavily. The fact that this information which should have been his most closely guarded secret was apparently known by multiple high-ranking officials made him feel uncomfortably exposed, like he was a specimen under glass.

"Yeah, that's right," he confirmed.

Though in all honesty, he was mostly to blame for not being able to hide it more effectively. But maybe just maybe that was actually a good thing. If he wasn't hiding anything major from them, if he'd always been honest and transparent, then he'd never give them a reason to see him as a threat or dangerous.

At least, that was the hope.

Sorina looked at Zelda, her expression shifting from curiosity to professional authority. "Instructor, thank you for your report. You're excused."

Zelda's brow furrowed immediately. "Director, with all due respect," she began, clearly protesting, "as his primary combat instructor, understanding the full scope of his abilities is critical to "

"And you will understand," Sorina cut her off smoothly, her voice still pleasant but now laced with an authority that left absolutely no room for argument. "After I've been properly briefed myself by the appropriate channels. That's an order, Zelda. You're dismissed."

Zelda's jaw tightened visibly. She shot a frustrated look at Zaeryn, not angry, exactly, but clearly annoyed at being cut out of the loop, then gave Sorina a curt, stiff nod.

She strode to the heavy oak door, stopping for a fraction of a second as she clearly expected it to sense her presence and hiss open automatically.

It didn't.

She let out an annoyed sigh, realizing that this was some archaic, manually-operated door that the Director had apparently insisted on keeping. She yanked it open with more force than strictly necessary.

"Director," she said without looking back, "you really should get this door upgraded. Having to physically swing it open is archaic. And annoying."

The door clicked shut behind her, leaving Zaeryn alone with Sorina.

The moment Zelda was gone, Sorina's professional mask dissolved completely, replaced by genuine, maternal concern. She rose from her desk and walked over to him, her movements fluid and graceful, almost gliding.

"Leia?" she asked softly, her hand coming up to gently cup his face, her thumb tracing the angry red mark on his cheek with feather-light touches. Her touch was warm, but there was an underlying tension to it, an intimacy that felt... more than just casual concern.

Zaeryn groaned slightly as her finger brushed the tender skin. He nodded. "It was just a spar. Nothing serious."

"You need to see a medic about this," she murmured, her amber eyes focused intently on the wound, cataloging its severity.

"Yeah, I will," he promised.

"Good." She let her hand drop, returning to her desk and settling into her chair. "Now," she said, tapping her console with practiced efficiency, "let's find out why I'm apparently the last person to know about my own student's most significant ability."

The console chimed, and a holographic display materialized above her desk. High Commander Lysara's image came to life, her posture as rigid as ever, her expression carved from stone. She was clearly surprised to see Zaeryn standing there.

"Director Sorina. Mr. Noctis," she greeted formally, her gaze immediately locking on the swelling mark on his face with cold assessment. "What's the situation? Why does he have that injury?"

"Sparring," Zaeryn answered simply.

Lysara nodded once, accepting the answer without further comment. "Sorina, the purpose of this call?"

Sorina leaned back in her chair, her arms crossed, her friendly demeanor completely gone and replaced by barely contained frustration. "High Commander, I was just informed by my combat instructor, not through official channels, that my newest student is, in fact, a Vitae mimic. I'm calling to ask why the Director of the Lyceum was not informed of this critical piece of intelligence regarding her most high-profile and high-risk cadet."

Lysara's holographic image remained perfectly still for a long moment, her expression utterly unreadable. Her gaze flicked briefly to Zaeryn, registering his presence and the obvious evidence of his spar, before settling back on Sorina.

The silence itself was an answer.

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