The Rozzlyn estate loomed before Ivan as he approached, its polished iron walls gleaming under the pale moonlight. The duel with Lorcan had left him exhausted, but the conversation with Fent had reignited a spark of determination. He pushed open the heavy iron gates, the familiar hiss of the mechanized doors greeting him as he stepped inside.

The grand foyer was quiet, the only sound the soft hum of mana-infused chandeliers casting a sterile glow over the polished floors. Ivan’s boots echoed against the stone as he made his way toward the study, where he could hear the low murmur of voices. He recognized one immediately—his father’s cold, measured tone. The other was softer but carried an edge of authority. Skarlett Abetha.

Ivan paused outside the door, his hand hovering over the handle. He wasn’t sure if he should interrupt, but curiosity got the better of him. He pushed the door open quietly, slipping inside without a sound.

Brent Rozzlyn sat behind his massive iron-wrought desk, his expression as stoic as ever. Skarlett stood nearby, her posture relaxed but her piercing blue eyes sharp and focused. She was dressed in her battle-grade military tunic, the scarlet trim along her sleeves a stark contrast to the cold, metallic tones of the room. At her hip rested her Toledo-shaped blade, its hilt intricately designed and pulsing faintly with mana.

“Ivan,” Brent said, his voice cutting through the silence. “You’re late.”

Ivan straightened, his expression neutral. “The duel ran longer than expected.”

Skarlett turned to him, a small smile playing on her lips. “I heard you won. Congratulations.”

Ivan nodded, though he couldn’t help but feel a flicker of pride at her words. Skarlett had always been a figure of admiration for him. She was everything an Aethan elite was supposed to be—strong, disciplined, and fiercely loyal. But she was also kind, in her own way. She had taken on a big sister role for Ivan, always pushing him to be better, to strive for more.

“Thank you,” Ivan said, his voice steady. “It wasn’t easy.”

“Nothing worth doing ever is,” Skarlett replied, her tone light but her gaze serious. She stepped closer, her Toledo blade catching the light as she moved. “You’re improving, Ivan. But don’t let it go to your head. There’s always more to learn.”

Ivan’s eyes flicked to the blade at her hip. “Is that your Voluran staff?” he asked, unable to hide his curiosity.

Skarlett’s smile widened, and she unsheathed the blade with a fluid motion, holding it out for him to see. The Toledo-shaped sword was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, its steel gleaming with an otherworldly sheen. The hilt was adorned with intricate runes, and the blade itself seemed to hum with energy.

“It is,” she said, her voice tinged with pride. “Your father designed it for me. A Voluran staff doesn’t have to be a traditional rod or scepter. It can be anything, as long as it channels mana effectively. This blade is an extension of my will, my power. It’s not just a weapon—it’s a part of me.”

Ivan reached out, his fingers brushing against the blade. The mana pulsed beneath his touch, warm and alive. “It’s incredible,” he said, his voice filled with awe.

Skarlett sheathed the blade, her expression softening. “One day, Ivan, you’ll have your own staff. And when you do, you’ll understand what it means to wield true power.”

Brent cleared his throat, his gaze shifting back to the documents on his desk. “Enough of this. Ivan, you should be resting. You have classes tomorrow.”

Ivan hesitated, his curiosity getting the better of him. “What were you two discussing?”

Skarlett exchanged a glance with Brent, who gave a slight nod. “The current state of Millinggarde,” she said, her tone serious now. “The resistance is growing bolder. We’ve received reports of increased activity in the Figsty district. They’re organizing, planning something big.”

Ivan’s heart skipped a beat, but he kept his expression neutral. “What are you going to do about it?”

Skarlett’s gaze hardened. “We’re taking steps to ensure they don’t become a threat. Aether’s control must remain absolute. Any sign of weakness, and they’ll exploit it.”

Brent leaned forward, his fingers steepled together. “We’ve also planted a mole within their ranks. Someone to keep an eye on their movements and report back to us.”

Ivan’s breath caught in his throat, but he forced himself to remain calm. A mole? That changed everything. If the resistance was compromised, they wouldn’t stand a chance.

“Who is it?” Ivan asked, his voice carefully neutral.

Skarlett shook her head. “That’s need-to-know information, Ivan. And right now, you don’t need to know.”

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Ivan nodded, though his mind was racing. He needed to warn Fent. If the resistance was in danger, they had to act fast.

Brent stood, his expression unreadable. “You should go, Ivan. Rest. You’ve earned it.”

Ivan hesitated, then nodded. “Goodnight, Father. Skarlett.”

Skarlett gave him a small smile. “Goodnight, Ivan. And remember—stay focused. The road ahead won’t be easy, but you have the potential to be great. Don’t waste it.”

Ivan left the study, his mind buzzing with thoughts. The mole, the resistance, Skarlett’s Toledo blade—it was all connected. And he knew that if he wanted to make a difference, he would have to be smarter, faster, and stronger than ever before.

Ivan lingered in the hallway outside the study, his mind still reeling from the conversation. The mention of a mole within the resistance had sent a chill down his spine, but it was Skarlett’s presence that left the deepest impression. Her calm authority, the way she carried herself—it was as if the air around her crackled with energy, dense and unyielding. He had always known she was powerful, but standing so close to her, he could feel the sheer magnitude of her mana. It was overwhelming, like standing too close to a roaring fire.

He couldn’t help but comment as he turned back toward the study door, his voice low but filled with awe. “Your mana… it’s incredible. I’ve never felt anything like it. It’s like you’re carrying an entire storm inside you.”

Skarlett raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a faint smile. “Flattery, Ivan? That’s new.”

Ivan shook his head, his expression serious. “I’m not flattering you. I mean it. Most mages I’ve met—even the instructors at the academy—barely exert a power level of 500. But you… I’d guess yours is over 80,000. Maybe more.”

Skarlett’s smile widened, and she leaned casually against the edge of Brent’s desk, her Toledo blade resting at her hip. “You’ve got a good eye, Ivan. Or should I say, a good sense for mana. Not many people can gauge power levels just by feeling the air. But you’re right. My mana density is… significant.”

Brent, who had been quietly observing the exchange, interjected with his usual stoic tone. “Skarlett’s power is the result of years of discipline and training. It’s not just raw talent—it’s focus, control, and an unbreakable will. Something you would do well to emulate, Ivan.”

Ivan nodded, though his mind was still trying to process the sheer scale of Skarlett’s power. “How do you even manage it? That much mana… it must be exhausting to contain.”

Skarlett’s expression softened, and she gestured to the Toledo blade at her side. “This helps. A Voluran staff—or in my case, a blade—acts as a conduit. It channels and focuses mana, making it easier to control. But the real secret is in the mind. You have to understand your limits, but also how to push past them. It’s not just about how much mana you have; it’s about how you use it.”

Ivan’s gaze dropped to the blade again, his fingers twitching as if he could still feel the hum of its energy. “Your blade… it’s not just a weapon, is it? It’s a part of you. Like an extension of your will.”

Skarlett’s smile turned approving. “Exactly. Your father designed it specifically for me. It’s not just a tool—it’s a reflection of who I am. When I wield it, I’m not just fighting with steel. I’m fighting with everything I am.”

Ivan’s mind raced with possibilities. If he could have a Voluran staff—or even a blade like Skarlett’s—it would change everything. He could channel his mana more effectively, push his limits further. But more than that, it would be a symbol. A statement. A way to show that he wasn’t just another cog in Aether’s machine.

“Do you think I could ever have something like that?” Ivan asked, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

Skarlett’s gaze softened, and she stepped closer, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You could, Ivan. But it’s not something you’re given. It’s something you earn. You have to prove that you’re ready—not just to wield the power, but to carry the responsibility that comes with it.”

Ivan nodded, his determination hardening. “I understand. And I will. I’ll prove it.”

Skarlett’s smile returned, and she gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “I know you will. You’ve got the potential, Ivan. You just have to believe in it.”

Brent cleared his throat, his tone cutting through the moment like a blade. “Enough of this. Ivan, you have classes tomorrow. Go and rest. Skarlett and I have more to discuss.”

Ivan hesitated, his curiosity piqued. “What else is there to discuss? Is it about the mole?”

Skarlett’s expression tightened, and she exchanged a quick glance with Brent. “That’s need-to-know information, Ivan. And right now, you don’t need to know.”

Ivan clenched his jaw but nodded. He knew better than to push. “Understood. Goodnight, Father. Skarlett.”

As he turned to leave, he caught a snippet of their conversation, whispered just loud enough for him to hear.

“The mole has reported increased activity in the Figsty district,” Skarlett said, her voice low. “They’re planning something big. We need to move quickly.”

Brent’s response was equally quiet, but the urgency in his tone was unmistakable. “Agreed. We can’t afford to let them gain any more ground.”

Ivan’s heart raced as he stepped out of the study and into the hallway. The mole. The resistance. The Figsty district. It was all connected, and he knew he had to act fast. But first, he needed to warn Fent. If the resistance was in danger, they couldn’t afford to wait.

As he made his way to his chambers, his mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. Skarlett’s words echoed in his head: You have to prove that you’re ready—not just to wield the power, but to carry the responsibility that comes with it.

Ivan clenched his fists, his resolve hardening. He would prove himself. Not just to Skarlett or his father, but to everyone who doubted him. And when the time came, he would wield his power not for Aether, but for the people who needed it most.