The capital's light felt colder when they returned.
Even the guards at the gate kept their eyes lowered, and that silence told Kaley more than any words could.
Word had spread.
Kaley's reflection was no longer just a ripple in the background—it was a symbol. A name whispered in taverns and palace corridors alike.
The Ghost Blade.
Divine to some. Dangerous to most.
They walked the merchant district without speaking, all three of them—Kaley, Raphtalia, and Naofumi—keeping tighter formation than usual. Filo pulled their cart, feathers rustling uneasily.
A familiar slouch greeted them near the alley ahead.
Beloukas.
The slaver smiled wide, too wide. He waved them toward a shaded corner, away from prying eyes.
"I've a message for you," he said, his eyes flicking past Naofumi to Kaley. "From someone who's been watching."
Kaley's hand hovered near her blade.
Beloukas raised his palms. "Not me. I'm just the mouth."
"Then shut it," Naofumi snapped.
But Beloukas leaned closer, voice dropping. "She wants the exotic one. The ghost. Not the demi-human this time."
Kaley's eyes narrowed. "She's already tried this once."
Beloukas chuckled. "She's persistent. Gold, land, titles—she's offered it all."
Naofumi's eyes darkened. "Malty."
Beloukas shrugged like it wasn't his problem. "Some royals collect gems. Some collect monsters. But her?"
His voice dipped with something oily and amused. "She wants to be noticed. Motoyasu barely glances at her now—except when she's standing beside something more radiant. And Kaley? Kaley outshines her without trying."
He leaned forward, lowering his tone like a secret. "She doesn't just want you caged, Ghost Blade. She wants you displayed. A trophy to feed his fantasy. A reminder that she found what he worships—and bent it to her will."
"And what would she do with me?" Kaley asked, her voice colder than steel.
Beloukas smiled like a man who knew exactly what.
Kaley stepped forward.
Naofumi blocked her with one arm. "She's not for sale. Say her name again, and you won't speak another word."
"I said what I needed to," Beloukas said, voice soft. "Eyes are on her now. Yours too, Shield."
They walked away without another word.
But Kaley could feel it—the shift. The weight.
She wasn't just a curiosity now. She was a commodity. A threat. A prize.
She didn't speak for the rest of the walk. Her jaw tight, shoulders rigid. Not from fear. From memory.
They always try to own what they don't understand.
The silence wasn't tension—it was warning.
They stayed that night in a quiet inn on the edge of the district. Naofumi booked the room under another name. Kaley locked every window herself. Raphtalia didn't ask why.
That evening, Kaley sat by the fire, unarmored. Her frame was resting, her blade beside her.
Filo curled against her side. Raphtalia sat across from her, carving another token. A rabbit this time.
Naofumi leaned back, arms folded. "If the nobles want to use you… they'll try to use us too."
Kaley didn't look away from the flames. "I won't be used."
Raphtalia's voice was quiet. "But they'll try."
Kaley nodded. "Let them."
But something inside her stirred.
The last time someone tried to possess her, it wasn't with chains.
It was with loyalty. With promises.
And when the Lotus fell, it nearly broke her.
Now, Raphtalia carved in silence. Naofumi stared into the fire. And Filo dreamed soft, small sounds in her sleep.
Kaley had more to lose now.
Naofumi studied her, something dark flickering behind his eyes. "If you fall—if that thing in the mirror takes you—what do we do?"
Kaley turned to him. "You pull me back."
"And if you can't be pulled?"
She looked at Raphtalia.
Then at Filo.
Then at him.
"Then end it. But not before I take them with me."
The fire cracked. No one spoke.
But their silence wasn't absence.
It was agreement.
Raphtalia set the carving into Kaley's hand. "You remind me of my mother. She didn't say much either. But when she looked at me… I felt safe."
Kaley froze.
The rabbit was warm from her hands.
"I'm glad you stayed," Raphtalia whispered.
Kaley didn't respond.
But she didn't let go of the carving, either.
That night, Kaley stood watch. Her reflection never showed.
But the window frosted over.
Not from the wind. From within.
And on its surface, something had drawn a perfect, mirrored hand.
Then—
A breath.
Soft. Cold. Not hers.
And a whisper—without voice, only shape:
"You can't protect them from me."
Kaley didn't flinch.
But her breath trembled.
She stayed there until dawn.