"The actor must be a selfless instrument, an empty vessel, for the character to fill."

***

"I know you won’t fail," I said.

Of all the uncertainties I faced, Lyra’s dedication had never been one of them. She was the one constant in an ocean of chaos.

She moved toward the window, preparing to slip back into the darkness. Then paused with one hand on the frame.

"Master? The scar. Does it still hurt?"

"Not anymore," I lied. Maintained steady eye contact.

The truth was that it ached with a constant, dull throb that radiated through my chest with every heartbeat. A persistent reminder of the price I’d paid. I suspected it would hurt for days. Maybe weeks.

But showing weakness would make her worry. And a worried Lyra was a dangerous Lyra.

"It’s just another part of me now. Another tool in the arsenal. Nothing to worry about."

"Good," she said softly. Her voice had shifted again. Something almost maternal. Warm and fiercely protective in a way that made something in my chest tighten.

"You’ve already given enough of yourself to this world, Master. You’ve bled enough. Suffered enough. From now on, let me be the one to collect what they owe you. Let me carry that burden. Let me be the blade that carves your path forward."

And there’s the yandere peeking through. ’Let me carry that burden’ in Lyra-speak translates to ’let me enthusiastically murder anyone who inconveniences you.’

I’ve created a beautiful, terrifying monster.

Then she vanished into the night. Left only the whisper of displaced air and the creak of the window frame settling back into place.

I stood alone in my room. One hand pressed unconsciously to my chest where the Rune pulsed with steady warmth beneath the bandages. A second heartbeat. A hidden truth carved into my flesh.

The candle on my desk finally guttered and died. A thin trail of smoke curled toward the ceiling. Only pale moonlight remained to illuminate the room in shades of silver and shadow.

Outside, through the glass, I could see the first faint touches of pink and gold on the eastern horizon. Dawn was coming.

In just a few hours, I would stand before the entire assembled nobility at the Royal Awakening Ceremony and begin the most important performance of both my lives.

Time to show them what they expect to see.

Time to become the perfect failure. The ideal disappointment.

Time to cement my role as the pathetic third son so thoroughly that they’ll never look twice when I start moving in the shadows.

I allowed myself one last moment of honest fear. Let it wash through me like a cold wave. Then I let it drain away.

Fear was natural. Fear was useful. But fear couldn’t control me. Not now.

I sat down at my desk and started running through scenarios. Contingencies. Responses to every possible way tomorrow could go wrong.

The curtain was about to rise.

===

Dawn came faster than I wanted.

One minute I was staring at my notes, and the next, golden light was pouring through my window and the servants were knocking on my door.

"Young Master Leone? The carriage will be ready within the hour."

I looked at my reflection in the mirror. Pale face. Dark circles under my eyes from no sleep. Hair slightly mussed.

Perfect. I already looked like a nervous wreck. Saved me the effort of manufacturing one.

The ceremony would take place at the Grand Cathedral in the capital. All noble children of appropriate age gathered before the Awakening Stone. Each candidate would approach in turn. The Stone would reveal their elemental affinity and magical potential for everyone to see.

Unless, of course, you had a freshly carved blood rune hiding everything interesting about you.

I touched my chest through my shirt. The scar pulsed warmly in response.

Still working. Good.

The carriage ride took two hours. I spent most of it staring out the window and mentally rehearsing my pathetic persona. Nervous fidgeting. Stammering speech. Wide, frightened eyes. The works.

Lyra rode with the other servants in a separate carriage. Already playing her part. By the time we reached the cathedral, the transformation would be complete. Nobody would connect the sharp-eyed spy who visited my chambers at night with the downtrodden maid trailing behind her disappointing master.

We arrived just as the sun reached its peak.

The Grand Cathedral loomed before us. All white stone and golden spires and stained glass windows depicting ancient heroes. A monument to everything this kingdom valued.

Power. Status. The divine right of the strong to rule the weak.

And here I was, about to prove I belonged at the very bottom of that hierarchy.

Nobles gathered on the steps. Young men and women in fine clothes, attended by servants in livery. They chatted and laughed and sized each other up like wolves meeting for the first time.

I spotted Marcus von Valerius immediately. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Fire-red hair that probably ran in the family. He stood at the center of a group of admirers, radiating the easy confidence of someone who’d never doubted his place in the world.

His little brother Leo had humiliated me in the training yard. Marcus would be worse. Much worse.

I made sure to flinch when his gaze swept across the crowd and briefly touched me. Looked away quickly. The gesture of a prey animal hoping the predator would move on.

He dismissed me instantly. Not even worth remembering.

Perfect.

The cathedral doors opened. A herald in ceremonial robes stepped out.

"Noble youth of Aethelgard! The Royal Awakening Ceremony will now commence! Enter and discover your destinies!"

Here we go.

I shuffled forward with the crowd. Kept my head down. Made myself small.

Lyra fell into step behind me. Her expression was tired and resigned. The perfect long-suffering attendant.

Our eyes met for just a moment.

A spark of understanding passed between us.

Then she looked away, back into character, and I stepped through the cathedral doors into whatever nightmare awaited inside.

Time to give the performance of a lifetime.