The Weight of the Blade

3

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“Your appearance…”

Astra saw the fireball coming before it even left his hands. She dropped low, the heat rushing past as she rolled onto one knee.

A fraction of a second later, she struck.

Her palm found his ankle, her other hand hooked his knee. One sharp pull. He stumbled, barely catching himself before hitting the ground.

“…will make it easy for you to blend in…”

“Why haven’t you used your power yet?” he spat, his eyes flashing with rage. “Are you looking down on—”

She already stepped into his space in a blink. Two fingers to the carotid sinus. Precise pressure. His eyes rolled back, and he crumpled.

“…as just another Gifted student.”

Silence. Then, gasps rippled through the crowd.

Dean Saito, his usually impassive face betraying a rare flicker of shock, stepped forward. His eyes drifted between Astra and her unconscious opponent before he finally spoke.

“The winner of this round is… Astra Elite.” His voice carried through the arena, but there was a hesitance to it, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he had witnessed. “Congratulations on advancing to B-Class… without demonstrating your arcane ability."

“I did," she muttered, brushing dust from her sleeves. "How else did I win?"

Without waiting for a response, she turned on her heels and strode off, ignoring the lingering stares. She barely heard Dean Saito announce the end of the match.

Her fingers clenched at her sides. Blend in?

No.

She wasn’t meant to blend in. She was forced to stand out.

It turned out the Council hadn’t just approved her undercover mission at St. Kevin’s: they had engineered it. Perfect timing, perfect opportunity. A chance to tip the balance against the Van Nassaus.

And to get close to Athena Van Nassau, first, she had to secure her place in A-Class.

The problem? Her blade, once drawn, was meant to kill. Blunt edges didn’t exist in her world.

This mission was an impossible contradiction.

Except…

On her way out, her gaze caught on a rack of wooden practice swords, abandoned near the edge of the training grounds. Her mind raced through the possibilities, calculating.

Not entirely impossible.

What was truly impossible, however, was figuring out Eydis.

She remained an enigma. They hadn’t been assigned the same room at first—Astra had enrolled later than the rest. But that hadn’t stopped her from watching. From observing.

And the girl was…

Not at all what she had imagined.

“Hey, four-eyed freak, where’s the chem homework?”

Tiffany, a blonde with too much confidence and too little grace, cornered Eydis by the lockers. Astra caught the way Tiffany swallowed, the quick flick of her gaze toward her friends, searching for… validation?

Interesting.

The boy beside her acted first, shoving Eydis hard against the metal. Astra’s body tensed, a reflexive step forward. Then, she stopped.

She remained still. Watching. Studying.

Waiting.

For something—anything—to break the illusion. A hint of deception. A sign of hidden strength. But there was nothing.

No controlled breath preparing for retaliation. No subtle shift in stance hinting at restrained power. No ripple of arcane in the air.

Nothing at all.

Just fear. Just the sound of Eydis gasping, her breath stuttering as if the impact had knocked the air from her lungs. Her fingers trembled around the books she clutched. A quiet whimper slipped past her lips before she swallowed it back.

Astra spoke before she had fully decided to. She wasn’t sure why. She simply didn’t like what she saw.

“Enough.”

Tiffany turned, brows raised. “Who the hell are you?” Then her eyes dropped to Astra’s pin, and she hesitated. “A B-Class? Stay out of this.”

“I wasn't aware I took orders from you.”

Tiffany scoffed. “Just because you’re some unknown Gifted student doesn’t mean you can—”

Eydis interrupted. “H-here’s the homework.” Her voice was small. She extended the paper with unsteady hands. “Sorry.”

Tiffany snatched it and stalked off, her entourage in tow.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Astra had spent years reading people: catching the micro-expressions, the subtle tells that said more than words. But Eydis... she was either the most skilled actor Astra had ever encountered, or she was exactly what she appeared to be.

“Y-You shouldn't have stepped in." Eydis kept her eyes on the floor. "It'll just make things worse. The Blackwoods... no one can touch them. And I don't—"

She hesitated, then lifted her head, pressing her glasses firmly against the bridge of her nose.

Amber eyes met crimson.

A sharp breath hitched in Eydis’s throat. Heat rushed to her cheeks, blooming in an instant.

Astra blinked.

She recognised that look.

It wasn’t rare. She had seen it before—many times. She knew exactly what it meant. But that meant—

Could this fumbling, awkward teenager truly be the same woman whose presence had once carried the weight of something ancient, something dangerous, something allur—no, insidious?

The one who had called herself Sin?

Had Astra spent all this time chasing a ghost? Had she built her purpose on an illusion?

What if Pride had never existed at all?

The thought unsettled something deep inside her. A shift, like a fracture widening in the foundation of everything she believed. Her entire existence had been reduced to a single goal, only to discover that goal was a mirage.

She wanted to let go.

To release the past.

To release Pride.

Give up.

Knowing the truth wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t erase what she was. It wouldn’t rewrite her history, cleanse the blood from her hands, or unmake the thing she had become.

She had thought this mission would bring her answers.

Instead, it had taken something from her. Hope.

Her only escape, her only fragment of control, was a greenhouse she had asked him to build. She retreated there, sometimes. Especially on the days when control slipped through her fingers.

Every day.

For more than two years.

Until one day—

Eydis changed.

It was subtle at first. A sharper gleam in her eye, an edge to her smile that hadn’t been there before. The way she spoke… not with the breathless awe of a schoolgirl’s infatuation, but with something layered. She didn’t look at Astra like she was unreachable. There was no pained longing, no pedestal to climb.

Just something quieter.

Curiosity. Amusement. Intrigue.

Those amber eyes bore into hers—piercing, searching, learning. Not as if Astra were just a name, just a label, just a weapon, just a puzzle to solve.

As if she was… real.

That teasing smile should have unsettled her. The easy amusement that danced in her eyes whenever Astra was near. But it didn’t.

Instead, Astra was the one who hesitated. The one who found herself watching, not because she suspected Eydis of being Pride, but because…

She couldn’t stop.

Astra caught herself remembering the way Eydis lips shaped words; smiling at the absurdity of her remarks, and memorising the fluid grace of her movements—how effortlessly she filled every space.

How effortlessly she invaded hers.

Every glance, every smirk, every fleeting pause between words felt like something precarious. Something Astra had no name for, no rulebook to follow.

She told herself it meant nothing.

But she noticed.

And she kept noticing.

As if drawn. As if compelled. As if…

Captivated.

She had lived so long in emotional twilight, her feelings muted and distant as if belonging to someone else. But now, with absolute certainty, she knew exactly what she felt.

Awake. Present. Real.

It coursed through her veins, a surge of life she hadn’t felt in years. Her mind and body finally seemed to align, like puzzle pieces snapping into place. And somewhere, deep down, she wondered if it had always been this way.

That she hadn’t always been this… disconnected. That she was… normal.

Like maybe she wasn’t broken at all.

Then came that night.

A storm-drenched sky. Rain lashed against her helmet until she removed it, thunder rolling across the sky like a warning: Turn back.

She didn't. She couldn't. Her instincts screamed that she was running out of time.

And everything that could go wrong, did.

Her heels barely made a sound on the wet grass, but her thoughts were a hurricane. And there stood Eydis, illuminated by violet light and lightning alike—

She didn’t just look like Pride.

She was Pride.

The realisation nearly knocked the breath from Astra’s lungs. Her grip tightened around her blades. Not to strike. But to keep them from trembling.

For the first time…

The weight of the blades in her hands felt unbearable.

But when Eydis collapsed, something shifted.

Astra barely caught her, the sudden dead weight crashing into her chest. She froze when she felt the warmth spreading across her hand. Blood. Thick. Too much.

Eydis’s hand clutched at Astra’s jacket, her fingers trembling as she tried to anchor herself against the pain. Her body jerked with a ragged inhale.

No.

Astra fumbled for her phone with unsteady hands. The call connected. Relief barely had a chance to register before his voice cracked through the earpiece.

“Miss Astra, I’m sorry! We've got a situation in New York—"

Shouting. Movement. Then silence as the line died.

“Fuck!”

She tossed the phone aside. Panic rose in her throat, but she shoved it down. Focus.

Astra pressed harder against Eydis’s wound. The blood wouldn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. The crimson slipped through her fingers, slick, warm, terrifying.

She had seen death before. Delivered it.

But this was different.

“Eydis.” Her voice cracked. “Fuck! Stay with me!”

Another crack of thunder split the sky, vibrating through her bones. The downpour grew heavier, soaking through her leather until it reached her bones. But none of it mattered.

Because Eydis was too still.

Her breathing was uneven. Too shallow. Her lips were pale, cracked, and quivering. Astra’s fingers scrambled for her phone again. Triple zero. A doctor. Anything.

But where was it? She couldn’t think, couldn’t—

Eydis’s grip slackened. The fingers clinging weakly to Astra’s jacket fell away.

Something inside Astra snapped.

It wasn’t a decision. It wasn’t even thought. It was instinct, a violent force that surged through her before she could understand it. A pull deep in her chest. Primal. Unstoppable.

Then… light. Searing, blinding, alive.

Not her diamond blades. Not destruction. Not the raw, merciless force of violence that had always defined her.

It was something else.

Astra gasped as golden energy erupted from her palm, spilling into the darkness, wrapping around them. It burned, but not like fire. Gentle, warmer. It pulsed, matching the erratic rhythm of her heartbeat, as if…

As if it had always been there, waiting.

As if it was hers.

Not death.

Life.

Astra’s breath caught as realisation struck her. As she gathered Eydis into her arms, she held her closer, barely aware of the rain washing through her hair, down her cheeks. But it wasn’t just the storm soaking them.

It was something warmer, hotter, something she refused to acknowledge.

She leaned in, pressed her palm to the wound, and felt the light shift. It flared for a heartbeat, then sank into torn flesh. The bleeding slowed. Stopped. Colour slowly returned to Eydis’s face.

She stirred. Just barely.

But Astra felt it. The overwhelming stench of blood, iron, and death no longer wrapped around her like a noose.

In its place was lavender. The shampoo Eydis always used. The scent of teasing glances and quiet laughter. The scent of something Astra had never let herself analyse.

For the first time since that rainy night in the alley—since the first time she had ever taken a life—

She felt it. She understood what she was meant to be.

A killer. That part wouldn’t change. But also…

A healer.

A walking paradox.

But had she ever meant to hurt Eydis? Even if… even if she was Pride?

Her answer wasn’t in words. It was in the way her arms tightened around Eydis, in the way she held on like she could keep her safe. An instinct.

The same instinct that had led her here. As if this moment had been inevitable. As if she was finally hearing the truth her heart had always known.

A tremor ran through Astra’s body as her lips parted, her voice unexpectedly raw, almost a whisper against Eydis’s ear.

“You don’t know what I want, Eydis.”