"From the moment this trial began," Seraphius said calmly, "someone was destined not to return. One of us is meant to die in each round."
Serena's head snapped toward him. "Excuse me?"
The Holy Son didn't seem to realize he'd stepped on a landmine—or perhaps, he didn't care. He went on in the same composed tone, as if lecturing in a golden temple rather than announcing a death count.
"This relic only allows four participants to leave. A prophecy given by His Holiness confirmed it— four exits, four survivors." He gestured vaguely toward the chamber walls that had a faint star in 4 different directions. A detail Serena had never paid attention to. "One in each cardinal direction."
Serena's stomach twisted.
"So you see…" he continued, hands folded like he was offering condolences at a funeral. "This is all according to the will of a higher power. Kain has served his time on this Earth, and now his purpose is fulfilled—as the third sacrifice demanded by the relic."
The golden-eyed boy inclined his head slightly, almost like a ceremonial bow. "Although I did…" His gaze flicked toward Bai Lian, then back. "...assume it would be her."
Bai Lian let out a dry, bitter laugh. "I would too."
Serena ignored them. All her attention was locked on Soreia.
Something wasn't right.
Now that she looked closely, neither Cassian nor Soreia appeared surprised by this so-called revelation. There was no shock in their eyes, no protest, not even confusion.
For the first time Serena realized how big the gap in information between those in and out of the capital was. Many at First Celestial likely knew that there was a possibility of this secondary relic being open and being transported here. Whereas Kain and Serena had entered the first relic innocently thinking it was a makeup exam given by the school.
However, Cassian and Soreia had known that this second relic would open, and probably even more details about it. Known and said nothing.
"You knew," Serena said coldly.
Not a question. A pronouncement.
Soreia didn't blink. "Yes."
It was the calmness that nearly pushed Serena over the edge. Not the fact that she admitted it. Not even that she had the audacity to say it out loud.
It was that she didn't care.
For a single, terrifying moment, Serena considered unsealing the artifact slung over her shoulder and throwing it at the girl's face. Not that it would help. But it would feel good.
The girl's previous targeting of Kain. Her emotionless behaviour. The sudden, vague story of his "accidental" death. And now this.
No. Kain wasn't gone by chance.
She looked around the chamber slowly. Deliberately.
Everyone expected Bai Lian to die. And Bai Lian would have—if not for Serena.
If she had died alongside Kain…
That would have left four, the numbers would have been perfect.
Serena's gaze snapped back to Soreia.
"You targeted him," Serena said, stepping forward until she stood nose-to-nose with Soreia.
Cassian snorted, brow raised. "You think this was some conspiracy? I barely gave the kid a second thought."
He was probably telling the truth. But someone had thought about Kain. And now he was missing— because, yes, she refused to believe he was dead.
"I know you did something to him."
"Did I?" Soreia's lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile. "Prove it."
The challenge hung between them, sharp as a knife.
Serena's vision narrowed to white. The sealed sphere strapped across her back pulsed, seemingly reacting to her rage.
All she could see was Soreia's face—that cool, unreadable mask—and the space beside her where Kain should have been.
Cassian, sighing, finally stepped in between them. He held up a hand.
"Enough," he said sharply. "You didn't know the 4-survivor rule before, but now you do. Let's all just move on."
Serena didn't look at him. Her eyes stayed locked on Soreia's.
"There are five of us."
A pause. A long, hollow silence.
Then Bai Lian laughed again—quiet and hollow. "No," she whispered. "There aren't."
Because she was right.
One more still had to die.
And everyone knew who it would be.
No one said it aloud, but it echoed in the chamber all the same. A silent sentence. A verdict.
Cassian shifted uncomfortably, eyes flicking to Bai Lian but quickly away. Seraphius, meanwhile, stared at her with something like pity—though knowing him, it could have easily been admiration for her spiritual fortitude. He took a small step forward, clearly debating whether to approach her with some kind of prayer, sermon, or conversion attempt before she passed.
Fortunately, he stopped himself. Barely.
Even if Bai Lian didn't hit him, Serena might have.
The tension shattered with the familiar chime of the relic's voice, neutral and detached as ever.
[Please prepare for the next trial.]
Everyone straightened instinctively, the tension still crackling beneath the surface.
[Before proceeding, please place the sealed objects obtained from the most recent trial into the designated containers.]
A podium rose from the center of the chamber. Three containers revealed themselves atop of it.
Cassian stepped forward first, muttering as he retrieved an object from the floor where he'd casually placed it.
It looked like the skull of an unfamiliar creature with an arrow shaft sticking out of it, still pierced by the arrow that the Holy Son had been given.
He placed it in the nearest container to him "I tried putting this thing in my space ring earlier. Thought I was going to have to carry it around forever."
Soreia went next. Wordlessly, she walked to the central container and placed the sheath inside. It was full—whatever dark liquid it contained swirled thickly as it made contact with the interior runes.
Serena was last. She kept her eyes locked on Soreia as she carefully placed her wrapped sphere into the iron chest. The moment it clicked shut, a faint vibration ran through the podium.
The entire time, her gaze never wavered from Soreia's face.
Serena stared at her like she was already dead.
And said nothing more.