The Elite’s feet touched down lightly on the dirt floor of the crater. In Cassiel’s peripheral vision, Danion quailed, expression fixed in a mask of anxiety.

She felt… calm. Oddly serene.

It was entirely possible that this man was simply going to end her life right here. Perhaps he would burn her to death with Sunshots. Perhaps he would use his bare hands.

Somehow that knowledge reinforced her. There was only one clear path for her to take, and she had to succeed on that path or die. That starkness, that punishing binary of, ‘convince Danion’s master’ or die… it was invigorating.

“I understand that this is not permitted,” she said, still crouching, still half-hidden by her wing. “I understand that Danion is breaking all the rules by teaching me. Please,” she started, unsure of how that sentence would end.

She was the cripple. She was the one worth nothing to the Valley, the one doomed to mediocrity and supervision. She was barely allowed to go to the Academy, and she wasn’t even allowed out of the city usually. There was no value in her learning these techniques.

Well that’s one avenue I shouldn’t pursue, she mused, heart racing. If he’s letting his anger show, he must surely be an emotional man. He’s compassionate towards Danion - the boy constantly shirks his work, and he seems to be earnestly trying to convince him of its value. It’s working somewhat, at least - he actually Constructed that shard of Crystal.

A logical argument wouldn’t work. There was no logical reason for her to be being taught by one of the House heirs. So that meant… what? She had to appeal to his emotions in some way?

Could she get Danion to speak up in her defence?

“Don’t blame Lord Danion,” she continued, a few excruciating seconds after she had started the sentence. “I… begged him to teach me. I barely understand what he’s been telling me, but just being with him…”

She trailed off. Was that the best she could do? Implying a romantic link between them? She’d tried to pull on Danion’s heartstrings before and it barely worked - this man was a full Elite. Surely there was no chance of him buying into that as an acceptable excuse.

“You expect me,” the man replied, voice soft and laced with a razor edge of lean, cold fury. “To believe that? Danion was explaining Construction Theory to you; that’s one of the most closely-guarded secrets in the Houses. I can’t let you live.”

Her blood felt cold. Suffusion pounded in her ears, like the steady rush of a heartbeat but constant, ebbing and flowing as the energy pulsed through her body.

She lowered her head, hair falling to cover her face. the curly black locks obscured her vision for a moment, and she squeezed her eyes together trying to produce some liquid.

The Elite shifted. Her mind raced. What else could she do? What hadn’t she tried? There was only one other factor nearby who could stop this.

She turned her head toward Danion. Moisture ran out of her eyes and down her nose, then off her cheek. She mouthed out, ‘please’ to him.

Their eyes were locked together. She tried to produce as much desperation as she could to project through them - fortunately, she felt very desperate. Danion gaped as he stared back, both flapping up and down as he tried to say the words.

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“You should have known your place,” the Elite said, his low voice having taken on a monotone quality.

“Uncle it’s true!” Danion cried out suddenly, and Cassiel’s eyes practically snapped shut in relief. “It’s all true. Please, please believe me.”

“Boy, keep your tongue. We will be discussing this matter with your father, I can promise you that,” Danion’s master replied.

But he had stopped.

He wasn’t moving to continue his execution.

“Uncle- master- I’m telling you. She’s- she’s a simpleton, practically. She pays no attention in any of the Academy lessons either, you can ask anyone!” Danion continued to beg, the edge of desperation evident in his voice again. “I was just- I made a mistake, I got invested in a commoner. In a cripple. It won’t happen again, I promise.”

“Agreed,” the older man replied. “Because she won’t be leaving this-”

“I will dedicate everything to this apprenticeship!” Danion yelled out. Cassiel snapped her eyes to him. In her peripheral, she saw his master do the same. “I will stop the… the procrastination, the excuses, the… everything! I will do everything you say, without complaint! Just- please. Please let her live.”

Cassiel’s heart pounded against her ribcage for several tense seconds. Was that really the best her tutor had to offer? Simply the minimum expectation a teacher should have for his apprentice?

For a few moments, it seemed as though the gamble might fail. The Elite’s wings were still spread - he could still kill her at a moment’s notice.

Then, slowly, the wings folded in close to his back.

A shuddering, heaving breath thrummed through Cassiel’s body.

I’m going to live, she thought. Because of him. Because of Danion.

She glanced over at the boy, and saw his eyes were wet with moisture as well. He offered her a weak smile, one that saw his fragile facade of confidence waver.

“... You will never talk to her again,” the Elite said. “The closest you will ever come to her is the distance between your seats in class. You will not visit her no matter where she is, and if you ever slack off from my regimen, I will find her and I will kill her, and then I will tell your father everything.”

Her blood was still cold. Adrenaline still ran thick in her veins. She had hope, at least - but that life was dependent on the class clown becoming a dedicated student.

Life suddenly hung far more precariously in the balance than it once had.

The horned man stalked closer to Danion, then seized him by the elbow. He leant closer, and said a few words in low, gravelly monotone. Cassiel was too far away to hear them clearly, but Danion was pale, and he nodded along jerkily as the man talked.

Then, both their wings spread, and they shot off into the sky, leaving Cassiel behind in the crater, shaken. She cleared her throat, retracted her wing from where it still partially covered the front of her body, and started walking.

When she returned home, she threw herself onto the bed, wincing as the dead crystal dug into her spine and rolling slightly. She stared up at her ceiling, almost paralysed by the simultaneous desire to burst out crying and yet cheer in elation.

She had been moments from dying. Had it been her words, her own actions that had saved her? Had she finally had some form of influence on her own destiny? As distressing as the night had been, that sudden notion of controlling something - improving something - in her life was… exhilarating.

She couldn’t see Danion again, obviously. It was simply too risky, too close to throwing away the miracle that she - maybe - had secured.

But now… the notion of sneaking into the Tournament delegation came with an extra, seductive aura of danger, of having to take her fate into her own hands.

Her resolve was firmed. She would practise what little Danion had taught her, she would find out more about the Tournament, and she would earn that second wing.