Eva led the way, chatting nonstop as they explored the castle. Servants scattered the moment they saw them, eyes glued to the floor, never daring to meet Hazel's gaze. It was like they were ghosts — or like they knew exactly who she was and what she meant to their master.
Hazel glanced around, eyes scanning for exit points out of habit. No guards watching her. No chains. No obvious traps. She could take her chance right now. Slip away. Disappear into whatever waited outside these walls.
That cold violet gaze flashed in her mind. A small, traitorous smile tugged at her lips before she caught herself and frowned hard. What the hell is wrong with me? She didn't know where she was yet. Didn't know what dangers lurked beyond the gates. And maybe… just maybe… she needed him. The thought made her stomach twist.
"Oh, you'll love this," Eva giggled, her bubbly energy cheerful and sparkly enough to pull a reluctant smile from Hazel. "This is the training ground. Feel free to explore."
Hazel stepped inside and gasped.
The space was magnificent. Vast. Split into clear segments: archery targets lined one wall, training dummies stood in neat rows, wooden poles for movement drills rose like silent sentinels. The air smelled of sweat, steel, and old magic. It felt alive. Familiar. Like the military camps she had grown up in, but darker. Sharper.
"What's with that elevated platform?" Hazel asked, pointing at the section that stood out from the rest.
"That's Damon's training section," Eva said, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Are you curious about it?"
"I'm not…" Hazel looked sideways, avoiding her gaze. Eva laughed softly.
"Cute. Is that a princess thing?"
Not really. Hazel thought, but the words stayed locked behind her teeth. Eva noticed the sudden downcast look on her face and softened.
"It's alright. Even if you're not, I'm still curious. Let's go."
Eva dragged her along. Hazel's eyes widened at every tiny detail. The walls were reinforced with thick steel plates. Massive pillars hugged the corners like they were holding the world up. They climbed the final set of stairs to the elevated platform.
Hazel's breath caught.
This was crazy. Too crazy.
Huge craters scarred the walls and floor, deep enough to swallow a man. But what stunned her most was the enormous sword mark carved into the far wall — clean, vicious, like the blade had sliced through reality itself.
As if possessed, her body moved on its own. She stepped forward and traced the mark with her fingertips. Residual energy hummed under her skin, dark and electric. Her vision blurred.
Everything went blank.
She opened her eyes in a different place.
Her cheeks burned hot. The sight before her was obscene. She had spent most of her life in military camps surrounded by half-naked men training, but nothing — nothing — could have prepared her for this.
Damon sat in a low, cross-legged stance, eyes closed, completely oblivious to her. His upper body was bare. Pale skin glistened with sweat. Beads rolled down the sharp lines of his chest and abs, tracing every hard muscle like they were worshipping him. His jaw was clenched in concentration. That handsome face looked lethal even at rest.
Hazel gulped. She couldn't move. Couldn't look away. An insane urge hit her — to run her fingers across that chest, to feel the heat of his skin, to trace the same path the sweat was taking. Heat pooled low in her belly. Her breath came shallow.
Damon stood up in one fluid motion, breaking the spell and yanking her back to reality.
Why am I here? Why is he here?
He walked to the wall — the same wall with the sword mark. His eyes closed. He stretched his arms. A massive odachi appeared in his grip. He unsheathed it with a soft ring of steel and dropped into a flawless stance.
One thing Hazel had always been good at was swordsmanship. It felt natural. Instinctive. But this… this was something else.
The ground trembled. Space itself distorted. Black tendrils and dark motes swirled around him like living shadows. The slash came — instantaneous. Blade already sheathed. The only proof it had happened was the feeling that ripped through her chest.
For one heartbeat the world went grey.
Then the wall split clean in half.
Damon exhaled slowly. "Still not good enough." He turned, violet eyes gazing straight in her direction. A small, knowing smile curved his lips. He flicked his finger.
The vision shattered.
Hazel blinked hard. She was back on the platform, fingers still pressed against the cold stone.
"Are you okay?" Eva asked, worry flickering across her face. The girl's hand hovered near Hazel's shoulder, as if afraid to touch her.
"Yeah," Hazel muttered, voice dazed. Her cheeks still burned. "I'm… going back to my room."
Eva watched her go, emerald eyes locked on the retreating figure. A soft chuckle slipped out.
"As expected of you, Fate," she whispered.
Hazel jumped onto her bed the moment the door closed. She stared at the ceiling, mind replaying every second of the vision. The sweat on his skin. The way his muscles moved. The raw, terrifying power of that single slash. He had cut the world itself.
He was powerful. Dangerously so.
Her spirit surged. She wanted that power. Needed it. Her eyes gleamed with something wild, almost crazed. A low laugh escaped her lips. A flame would always be a flame. And she refused to be snuffed out.
Not by the king. Not by demons. Not by anyone.
And if Damon could give her the strength to burn everything down… then maybe staying wasn't the worst idea after all.