The sky above the capital city of Everiven this afternoon was the color of bruised plums—a deep purple mixed with gray, with thin orange lines on the western horizon signaling that the last sun of the year was dying.

  From the hidden balcony of the Archives Library tower, Mira could see the entire city preparing for the festivities. The main streets were decorated with thousands of magic lanterns that were being lit one by one, creating a river of light flowing towards the palace. The sound of test trumpets and early fireworks could be heard faintly, mixed with the faint aroma of roasted chestnuts and warm wine carried by the winter wind.

  Mira wore a thick wool coat over her simple party dress. She hugged herself, not because of the cold, but because of the emptiness gnawing at her stomach.

  It had been three days since her secret meeting with Lysandra behind the academy. Three days Mira had spent wandering the palace corridors under the pretext of “looking for painting inspiration.” Three days Anna had sneaked into the air vents, the basement, and the kitchen.

  The result: Nothing.

  The red crystal—Resonance Stone given to her by Lysandra remained cold and dark in Mira's coat pocket. No vibrations. No light. No signs of life from Beatrix Eriallve or anyone else. The palace was silent. Its thick walls kept secrets too perfectly.

  “You'll freeze if you keep standing there,” an awkward voice broke Mira's reverie.

  Mira didn't turn around. She recognized the voice. The sound of footsteps being dragged and slightly heavy breathing from climbing the spiral staircase of the tower. Ulric.

  The young man with thick glasses appeared from the wooden door behind Mira. He wore a knitted scarf that was so long it wrapped around his neck three times, making him look like a turtle trying to hide in its shell. His hands, wrapped in leather gloves, held two paper cups filled with hot chocolate.

  “I brought these,” said Ulric, handing her one cup. “The academy cafeteria is giving them out for free to celebrate the New Year. It's a little watery, but... It's warm.”

  Mira took the cup. The hot steam hit her face, slightly melting the frost on her cheeks. "Thank you, Ulric. You didn't have to come up here. The wind is nasty."

  “I like the wind,” Ulric said as he stood beside Mira, resting his elbows on the stone railing of the balcony. His glasses immediately fogged up. He took them off, wiped them with the end of his scarf, then put them back on. “The wind carries the sounds of the past. Or at least, that's what I like to imagine.”

  They stood side by side in silence for several minutes. Looking at the city preparing for a party, while the two of them carried a secret that could destroy the party.

  “You didn't find anything, did you?” Ulric asked softly, without looking at Mira.

  Mira shook her head. She sipped her hot chocolate. It was watery and too sweet. “The palace is clean, Ulric. Too clean. Anna checked the old blueprints, the servant corridors, even the sewers. There are no secret rooms. No unregistered underground prisons.”

  Mira squeezed her paper cup. “Lysandra's theory about ‘human batteries’... maybe she's wrong. Or maybe they're hiding them somewhere that can't be reached physically.”

  Ulric was silent. He reached into his worn shoulder bag and pulled out a crumpled roll of paper. He unfolded it on the balcony railing, holding it down with his elbow so it wouldn't blow away.

  It was a map of the capital city of Everiven. But it wasn't an ordinary map. It was covered with red, blue, and black lines drawn by hand by Ulric.

  “I couldn't sleep last night,” Ulric admitted, his eyes tracing the lines. “So I compared the modern city map with the Ley Lines map from the time before the Unification.”

  Ulric pointed to the center of the map: the Celestial Palace. Then his finger moved outward, pointing to four other points at the corners of the city that formed a perfect square surrounding the palace.

  The Academy Clock Tower (North).

  Saint Dalt Cathedral (East).

  Grand Theater (South).

  Heroes' Monument in the square (West).

  “Do you see this?” asked Ulric, his voice trembling with academic enthusiasm. "These four buildings were built directly on top of natural energy nodes. They are called the ‘Four Pillars of the Capital’. The architecture... magnificent. Full of conductor crystals."

  “Then?”

  “Then I checked the city's energy consumption records,” Ulric pointed to the red line connecting the four points to the Palace. “Officially, the palace sends energy to the city for street lights and heating. That's the government's narrative. That Arlen shares its power.”

  Ulric looked at Mira, his face pale in the twilight. “But the current is reversed, Mira. On this ancient map... the Ley Lines flow inward toward the center. Not outward.”

  Mira stared at the map. The red lines were like blood vessels. And the palace was the heart. But that heart wasn't pumping blood out. It was sucking blood in.

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  “You mean...”

  “Those four buildings aren't pillars,” whispered Ulric. “They're Suction Devices. Collectors. They absorb Intian residue from across the city—from citizens' activities, from nature, from the emotions of crowds gathering in theaters or cathedrals—and then send it to the palace.”

  Ulric swallowed hard. “And if Lysandra's theory about ‘human batteries’ is correct... then those batteries don't need to be stored under the palace, Mira. They could be stored at any of these four points. In the Clock Tower. In the Cathedral. In the Theater. Or in the Monument.”

  Mira's eyes widened. She had been looking in the wrong place. She had been searching inside the palace when the palace was only the final terminal. The source of power—the victims—were scattered across the four corners of the city, hidden in public places, behind the walls of the most heavily trafficked buildings.

  “Ulric,” Mira placed her hand on Ulric's, which was holding the map. “You're a genius.”

  Ulric flinched slightly at the touch. His face flushed, not from the cold, but from the sincere praise from a woman for the first time. “I... I just like patterns. History is just a collection of repeating patterns, Mira.”

  Mira looked at the young man. His messy hair, his glasses that always slipped down, and his fragile courage. Ulric was not a fighter. He would probably faint at the sight of blood. But on this battlefield of information, he was the strongest general Mira had.

  “You know how dangerous this is, right?” Mira asked softly. “If the Council of Ministers finds out you're mapping this...”

  “They'll erase me. Just like they erased the Machima Clan,” Ulric smiled wryly. “I'm scared, Mira. Every time I open these books, my hands tremble. I'm afraid I won't wake up tomorrow morning.”

  Ulric turned his head, looking into Mira's amber eyes. Behind those thick lenses, there was a painful sincerity.

  “But then I saw you,” Ulric said softly. "I saw you walking tall among those wolves. You weren't afraid. Or maybe you were afraid, but you kept walking. And that made me think... maybe history needs more than just a recorder. Maybe history needs someone brave enough to rewrite it."

  Mira felt her chest tighten. A strange feeling of emotion. She moved closer, tidying Ulric's messy scarf. Her fingers touched the young man's chin briefly.

  “I'm scared all the time, Ulric,” Mira whispered. “Every time I smile at Arlen, I'm afraid he can hear my lying heartbeat. Every time I eat, I'm afraid there's poison.”

  Mira stared intently into Ulric's eyes. "We're both scared. And that's good. Fear keeps us alive. Never lose your fear, Ulric. It's your alarm."

  Ulric nodded stiffly, transfixed by the closeness of their faces. “I won't stop, Mira. I'll find out exactly where the ‘battery’ is stored. I'll check the Clock Tower tonight. My uncle used to be a guard there, and I still have a duplicate key to the maintenance door.”

  “Don't go alone,” Mira warned quickly. “Not tonight. Tonight is New Year's Eve. Security will be tight.”

  “Precisely because it's New Year's Eve, the guards will be drunk,” Ulric smiled, this time with a hint of mischief. “And everyone will be watching the fireworks; no one will be looking at the engine room.”

  “Ulric...”

  “Trust me, Mira,” Ulric cut in softly. He took Mira's hand and placed something in her palm. It wasn't a map, nor a book. It was a mint candy.

  “To neutralize the overly sweet chocolate taste from earlier,” Ulric said awkwardly.

  Mira laughed softly. A carefree laugh. In the midst of a conspiracy involving murder, kidnapping, and political manipulation... Ulric gave her a mint.

  “Thank you,” said Mira, clutching the candy. “Be careful, Ulric. Please.”

  “Always.”

  Ulric began rolling up his map again. His movements were quick but careful. The sky was completely dark now. The city lights below shone brightly, competing with the winter stars.

  The atmosphere on the balcony was quiet, comfortable, and intimate. Two outcasts—one spy, one bookworm—sharing the weight of the world on their shoulders.

  However, the silence was broken.

  Not by the sound of fireworks. But by the sound of footsteps. Heavy. Firm. Military rhythm.

  The footsteps stopped at the threshold of the tower door. The temperature on the balcony dropped dramatically, as if winter had just decided to freeze time.

  Mira and Ulric turned simultaneously. There, standing tall, blocking the light from the stairwell, was a figure. His black-and-gold military uniform absorbed the light. His shoulder guards glinted coldly. A large sword hung from his back.

  Lukas Askagarg.

  The face of the Academy's “Golden Lion” was half hidden in shadow, but his eyes were clearly visible. His brown eyes, usually warm and protective, were now cold and suspicious. He wasn't looking at the cityscape. He was looking at Mira's hand, which was still holding the candy Ulric had given her. Then his eyes shifted to the roll of paper in Ulric's hand.

  “An interesting place for a secret date,” Lukas's low voice echoed off the stone walls. His tone was calm, but there was a threat trembling beneath the surface.

  Ulric froze. His face was pale. His hand holding the map trembled violently. “L-Lukas... t-this isn't...”

  “Be quiet, Ulric,” Lukas cut him off. He didn't yell. He simply gave an order.

  Lukas stepped out of the shadows, into the balcony area. The moonlight illuminated his stiff face. He stared at Mira. It was a gaze that made Mira feel like she was being interrogated in a dungeon.

  “The prince is looking for you in the Great Hall, Rhea,” said Lukas. “Everyone is looking for you. And it turns out you're here... in this remote tower... with a nerd.”

  Lukas glanced at the scroll in Ulric's hand again. “What is that? A star chart for fortune telling? Or an escape route?”

  Mira straightened up. She hid her surprise behind the cold mask she had learned from Laich. She stepped forward, placing herself between Lukas and Ulric. Protecting Ulric.

  “We're discussing a history essay, Lukas,” Mira said calmly. “Ulric is helping me with references. Don't make a drama out of something trivial.”

  “Trivial?” Lukas chuckled, a laugh that didn't reach his eyes. He stepped closer, his shadow engulfing Mira. "I see the way you look at him, Mira. And I see what you've been hiding in your eyes for weeks now."

  Lukas leaned in, whispering in Mira's ear—so close that Mira could feel the heat of the young man's pent-up anger.

  “You think no one noticed?” whispered Lukas. “You think because the Prince is blinded by love, we're all blind too?”

  Lukas pulled away, looking at Mira with deep disappointment.

  “Take care of your business. Go back to the party. Before someone else sees you two here and starts wondering if our ‘Queen-to-be’ is plotting treason... or an affair.”

  Lukas turned sharply, his cloak rustling. He walked back to the door, but paused on the threshold without turning around.

  “And Ulric,” Lukas said coldly. “If I see you carrying that strange map near Rhea again... I'll make sure you won't be able to hold a pen for the rest of your life.”

  The door slammed shut. Lukas' footsteps receded, descending the stairs.

  Silence. Ulric slumped to the floor, his legs weak. The map in his hand fell. “He knows...” Ulric whispered, trembling. “He knows we're hiding something.”

  Mira stared at the closed door. Her heart was racing. Lukas was suspicious of their loyalty. And as a potential opponent in the Tournament... Lukas Askagarg had just declared open war.