Chapter 98: A Day in the Life of Seraphyne!

[ Seraphyne POV ]

It was another morning, another day in her new life as Albedo’s servant. The first morning rays shined on the mansion estate, shimmering through the curtains.

Seraphyne stirred, her lashes fluttering open to reveal deep wine colored eyes. She stretched languidly, her every movement draped in predatory grace, the silken sheets whispering off her form.

Her gaze flicked toward the bed across the chamber where Gwendolyn Neverwinter still slept, curled under her covers. The girl’s silver hair spilled across the pillow like liquid moonlight, her chest rising and falling in the steady rhythm of dreams.

For a moment, Seraphyne simply watched her, and in the stillness, memories pressed into her chest like old scars.

Selantra…

The resemblance was subtle, it wasn’t in the looks, but in the way they acted. Gwen and Selantra were so similar. They had the same hobbies, both of them loving to read, especially about Magic.

Even though Gwen was years away from her awakening, she was still so curious about Magic, constantly reading books Albedo had collected over the years.

The way they acted, so loving of family, it struck Seraphyne with the same ache that had haunted her since the night her sister was taken from her.

Her crimson lips curved into the faintest smile as she spotted Gwen shifting in her sleep, “Non. Not this one. This child, I will protect.”

She slipped from the bed, dressing herself in layers of black lace and crimson silk, her movements precise, ritualistic.

When she was done, she reached for a silver hairpin Albedo had given her, a small thing, but she fastened it near her temple with surprising care.

Her day had begun. The first thing on the menu was training the assassins. She went to the training courtyard and heard the sound of steel banging echoing out loudly.

“All awake and training before I even call you, good,” Seraphyne praised as she stared at them, all eight figures moving swiftly under the morning sun, each armed with their preferred weapons.

Their movements were sharp, but uneven, still carrying the hesitation of those who had once been slaves that were used and abused by their masters in horrific ways.

Seraphyne stood before them like a conductor before her orchestra, a black-clad figure whose presence demanded perfection. Her crimson gaze swept across the group, and at the faintest flicker of a sloppy strike, her voice lashed out.

“Non. Do it again.”

She ordered, and the Catkin who had faltered immediately flinched hearing her voice and quickly repeated the maneuver, this time with sharper precision.

“Better,” Seraphyne said, voice smooth as silk and sharp as glass. She paced between them, her heels tapping the stone, “You are no longer the puppets of your former masters. You are free, oui, but freedom is useless without strength. Before you relied to heavily on the power bestowed by your masters, but now, you need to work for your power,”

“If you wish to survive, if you wish to serve Albedo as you claim, you will master yourselves first.”

“And if we fail?” One of them asked, sweat beading across their brow.

Seraphyne’s smile bared the edge of her fangs, elegant and lethal, “Then you die. Simple.”

Her words struck the air cold, but none dared challenge her. Instead, the assassins returned to their drills, blades flashing in the sun.

The training continued for a couple hours before Seraphyne dismissed them, returning indoors. She went upstairs to one of the mansion’s smaller studies, spotting Gwen and Diona already sitting side by side.

“You’re here,” Gwen said excitedly as Seraphyne walked and sat before the girls, grabbing a book and beginning to read to them.

Seraphyne’s voice flowed like a song as she traced glowing lines across the desk with a single finger, her blood-red nails leaving behind faint motes of mana.

“Mana is not brute force, mes petites. It is rhythm. A dance between you and the world.”

She gestured, and the motes aligned themselves into the shape of a spell circle, delicate and balanced. Gwen’s eyes widened with wonder.

“So… like a melody?” the girl asked.

“Très bien,” Seraphyne praised, her tone softening. “Exactly like that. If you break the melody, the song goes haywire. If you listen to it, if you let it flow, it will carry you.”

Seraphyne leaned back, one leg crossing over the other, her long fingers resting against the armrest with effortless poise.

“But there is one truth you must never forget, mes petites, magic is anything you can fathom…”

She lifted her hand, the nail of her index finger tracing idly through the air. Sparks blossomed, weaving themselves into fleeting images, flowers blooming and wilting in a heartbeat, a bird of fire that flapped its wings before scattering into embers, a wave of blood-red mist that curled into nothing.

“…and everything you cannot fathom.”

The air quivered faintly as if her words had weight.

Gwen gasped softly, eyes locked on the illusions, “Anything?”

Seraphyne’s lips curved, half a smile, half a secret. “Oui. Anything. The only chains on your mana are the ones you forge in your own mind. If you say, ’This is impossible,’ then it will be. But if you keep your mind open, if you dare to listen to the melody of the world around you, then the impossible becomes… trivial.”

Her nails tapped once against the desk, punctuating the words.

“Remember, mes petites: magic is not a cage. It is a mirror. What you see within it is what you are. So do not be too quick to decide what you cannot be.”

The girls sat in silence, digesting her words. Gwen’s young face carried awe, while Diona’s carried thoughtfulness, even a trace of unease as she knew she would be awakening the next year.

She closed the book softly, the snap of parchment breaking the silence.

“That is enough for now,” she said, her tone brooking no argument. “Go on, mes petites. Carry these words with you until your day of awakening. Then, perhaps, you will see the truth of what I speak.”

The two girls exchanged glances before bowing their heads respectfully, Gwen’s grin bright as morning, Diona’s more subdued but no less sincere.

As they left the study, Seraphyne allowed herself a long breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Her hand brushed the silver hairpin at her temple—a tether to her present, a reminder of her vow.

“Non,” she murmured to the empty room, her voice low, resolute. “Not this time. These ones… I will not let the world take from me.”

She got up and left the study room, heading towards the courtyard to the assassins who had finished their evening training session, looking over them, then towards the study window where Gwen and Diona’s laughter could be heard faintly.

The sound of approaching footsteps broke her reverie and she turned, spotting Albedo who just returned from the Academy after his chat with Luna.

The assassins straightened at his presence, their earlier exhaustion evaporating like mist before flame. Even now, though Seraphyne commanded their discipline, it was Albedo they followed with something close to reverence.

His gaze swept across them, sharp, calculating, assessing their stances before speaking,

“You’ve been working hard,” Albedo said finally, his voice even, but there was the faintest undertone of approval.

The assassins bowed their heads, weapons still clutched tightly in their hands. None dared speak first.

“I’ve decided,” he continued, walking past them, pacing with deliberate slowness until he stood before Kaela, their leader. The foxkin’s ears twitched nervously, but her eyes remained steady, locked onto him.

“What you were… what you were forced to be,” Albedo said, “ends here. I don’t need slaves. I don’t need disposable blades. What I need… is strength that can build.”

Kaela’s lips parted, but no words came. Seraphyne tilted her head, watching closely, crimson gaze unreadable.

“When your training here is finished,” Albedo declared, “You will form the foundation of something greater, a Guild. It will exist to support me and Gwen, gather us resources and expand your influence. An arm that strikes when I command. I need my own force,”

A murmur passed through the assassins.

Albedo’s gaze hardened, cutting through the flicker of uncertainty.

Kaela knelt, her weapon laid across her palms in offering. “Then we are yours, my lord. We were shadows without a place. If you would give us one… we will carve it into the world at your side.”

The others followed suit, one by one, the sound of steel ringing against stone as they lowered their blades in unison.

Albedo’s expression did not soften, but there was something fierce in his eyes, resolve, ambition, destiny.

“Good,” he said. “Then train harder. When the time comes, our Guild will be the knife hidden in the dark, the shield at my family’s back, and the hammer that breaks our enemies’ bones.”

The assassins bowed deeply, their voices rising together:

“As you command!”

Seraphyne, watching from the edge of the courtyard, allowed herself a rare, slow smile. Crimson lips curved with a dangerous elegance.

In her heart, the oath solidified, iron and unbreakable.

’Gwen will not fall. Diona will not be lost. And Albedo…you will be the leader of the new Era, your throne forged in Blood & Shadow!’

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