As the dusk bled into a pale morning, the has-been battlefield stirred.

  Some soldiers rose. Their movements were more habit than will, feet dragging through blood-dried soil as they wandered toward homes that no longer felt real. Others didn’t rise at all. They knelt beside what remained of their families. A mother whispered incantations over the upper half of a child, her healing light flickering, then fading—no spell could grow back what had been taken. One man began dragging mana beast carcasses into a pile. Horns, crystals, broken limbs—all of it could be processed. Refined properly, the remains would become something useful.

  As Vierna began to wake, a peculiar sensation stirred her senses.

  The ground beneath her no longer felt like packed blood and stone. It was softer now. Something light rested on her shoulders—a sheet, clean and white, blanketing her from the morning chill. She blinked. The sky that should have greeted her—the blood-drenched battlefield sky, fractured by the red moon and smoke—was gone. In its place was a plain stone ceiling, lit by pale runic light filtering through narrow slits.

  She tried to move, but pain surged like lightning through her veins. Each shift of muscle came with the sensation of being torn apart from the inside. The adrenaline was gone now, and in its absence, the cost of survival arrived.

  So instead, she just sat up slow, stiff and took in her surroundings.

  It was a chamber clean, quiet, and sterile in a way that made her skin crawl. At first, she didn’t recognize it. But the sharp smell of rune-etched steel, the cold white stone, the faint hum of containment glyphs—she knew this place.

  The research facility. She was back.

  Across the room stood another bed. In it lay a figure, masked and silver-haired.

  “...hmm, sugar-coated meat is so delicious…” Lina mumbled in her sleep.

  Vierna blinked. How in god’s name could such a thing be delicious?

  She let out a small laugh. I guess you really can’t turn Lina off.

  Still, Lina had helped her. I should make one, Vierna thought. It’ll be horrible… but seeing her surprised reaction? —worth it.

  She lingered in the silence, eyes drifting to the ceiling.

  It was strange. How easily she had accepted it—that she was a research subject and a servant. It had just… happened. Like slipping into a coat that was always waiting for her.

  Is that normal?

  To surrender and feel relief?

  It should have felt wrong.

  No. It’s not wrong, she told herself. Not if you’re trusted and wanted to repay that trust. That’s normal. That’s how it’s supposed to be.

  Judging someone for their hair, or their mana count—

  that’s what’s not normal.

  As the thought settled like stone setting into place she looked at Lina again.

  I wonder what’s beneath that mask.

  Does she wear it because she’s too beautiful?

  Or is she hiding some awful pimple she doesn’t want anyone to see?

  The thought nagged at her more than it should have.

  She moved—slow, jerking past the warning jolts in her limbs. Every motion hurt, but she ignored it.

  Eventually, she sat beside Lina.

  Her eyes were closed. Her breathing steady. Long silver hair spilled across the pillow in uneven strands, matted in places with sweat and dried blood. The mask still covered the lower half of her face.

  Vierna stared, waiting for something—movement, twitch, breath hitch. Nothing came.

  She lingered there, gaze fixed. The top half of Lina’s face looked kind of perfect. Smooth skin. Sharp eyes. Nothing out of place

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  Vierna’s hand moved on its own.

  Her fingers hovered inches away when, without warning, Lina shifted—and kissed her on the lips.

  Or tried to.

  The porcelain mask got in the way.

  There was no real contact—just the muffled laugh and a grin beneath it.

  Vierna blinked, stunned.

  “Hahaha—your face,” Lina snickered. “You look like you just saw a ghost.”

  Her eyes were half-lidded now, glinting with mischief. No trace of sleep left. Just someone very proud of herself for pulling a cheap trick.

  Vierna rubbed her cheek. “Hey—you said you liked boys. You can’t just pull something like that out of nowhere.”

  Lina grinned. “I do. But you’re so cute when you’re confused—I just wanted to gobble you up.”

  Vierna smiled

  At least I have Lina. She thought.

  Lina looked around, frowning. “Why are we in here? Did you carry me?”

  “Nope. Just woke up like you.”

  “Oh no.”

  “What?”

  “If you didn’t carry me here… there’s only one man who’d know where we were.”

  Vierna’s stomach dipped. “What—”

  The door hissed open.

  A man stepped inside, white-collared and calm. The rune-slate in his hand buzzed faintly with soft glyph-light.

  Halwen.

  He scanned the room once, then spoke with that steady, clipped tone of his.

  “I see you’re both awake. That makes things easier.”

  Of course, Vierna thought. That rune Halwen used on us—it lets him hear us. Even talk straight into our heads. Maybe that’s how he found us so easily in the middle of the battlefield.

  ...Then why didn’t he stop us?

  Vierna looked at Lina.

  Even with half her face hidden behind the mask, the tension was obvious. Shoulders stiff. Eyes wide. The kind of fear you only get when you realize you’ve done something unsanctioned—and the consequences are catching up.

  Halwen didn’t raise his voice.

  “Now come along, you two. We’ve all got a long day ahead of us.”

  The three of them walked the corridor in silence.

  Most of the other test subjects were asleep—or unconscious. It was hard to tell the difference anymore. Their bodies lay on cots, slumped in corners, limbs bandaged or raw, faces slack with exhaustion.

  One boy’s skin had begun to peel—grafts sloughing off like wet parchment. Another was curled into himself, whispering numbers that no one answered.

  They passed a side chamber with its doors half-closed. Inside, a researcher in pristine gloves calmly dissected what had once been another test subject. Just a clipboard, a rune-scalpel, and the steady rhythm of curiosity at work.

  This was normal. Vierna told herself

  They arrived at a door—white steel framed by runic inlays, the sigils pulsing faintly in rhythm with the mana grid beneath the facility. At its center, the emblem of House Einhart: an ouroboros, etched in black, its coiled body forming a perfect circle. No eye was drawn, but the shapes implied one. Watching.

  The door hissed.

  Inside stood two figures.

  One sat behind a broad desk of black oak and carved steel. Arkmarschall Leopold Strauss von Einhart. His coat was dark and high-collared, adorned with subtle threads of rank. The coiled snake on his cane seemed to watch—poised to strike its next victim.

  The other stood like a drawn blade.

  General Berbaris. He wore a crisp navy fabric with reinforced seams, command tags pinned at the chest, and a high collar still smeared faintly. He adjusted his collar as he finished the report

  "That concludes my report as to why the troops are mobilized beyond the defensive fortification"

  "Very well, General. The reasoning stands. You are dismissed.”

  General Berbaris left the room—calm, composed, not a word wasted.

  Now it was their turn.

  The two girls stepped forward, the polished stone floor reflecting every sound their boots made. They stopped a pace from the desk. Neither spoke.

  Leopold didn’t look up at first. His gloved hand hovered over a slate—runes shifting faintly beneath his touch. He raised his eye.

  “The order was clear. Research subjects and affiliated staff were assigned to the supply depot.” Leopold said, “were there any orders from a superior officer to move supplies to the front by foot?”

  Halwen’s fingers clenched.

  “The order did not come from me,” he said at last. “And I acknowledge the mismanagement of the supply depot under my authority.”

  Leopold turned his eye toward the girls.

  “Then let me hear it from you two”

  Vierna froze.

  She looked at Lina—but Lina wouldn’t meet her eyes. Her gaze was fixed on the floor. Her shoulders trembled. Sweat gathered at her brow, running down like blood from an invisible wound.

  Then she looked up.

  Leopold’s eye met hers. It was as if he were studying the fault lines in her soul, piece by piece. Weighing if they were still useful. Or if they needed to be broken further.

  “I just wanted to help,” Vierna said. Her lips trembled as she spoke, but the words were true—and she knew lying would only make things worse.

  Leopold’s gaze didn’t shift. “Is going outside the chain of command what you call helping?”

  “No, I just…” she faltered, then drew a breath and straightened, “Herr Leopold, I broke the chain of command. I deserve punishment. But Lina only helped because I forced her.”

  “No, Herr Leopold, I—” Lina began.

  But before she could finish, Leopold’s eye cut through them both.

  “Intentions without discipline are a double-edged blade,” he said, “but since you’re so eager to prove yourselves—starting today, both of you will be trained after each experiment.”

  His gaze shifted to Halwen.

  “And since your oversight allowed this, Herr Halwen, you’ll be their instructor.”

  He turned to the girls. “You two are dismissed.”

  The girls bowed, quietly. Their boots clicked softly against the stone as they turned and walked away

  Behind them, the Arkmarschall remained seated like a statue watching over its domain long after judgment had been passed.