There are two types of summons in the Empire.
The kind with scrolls, seals, and terrifying legal implications.
And the kind with cake.
This was the second kind. Supposedly.
Arwen unfolded the gold-edged invitation at breakfast, eyes narrowing as crumbs from her scone scattered over the elegant script.
"You've been invited to a noble reconciliation banquet," she read flatly. "In celebration of harmony between bloodlines."
I squawked from the teacup I was currently nesting in. That sounded suspicious.
"It's a trap," I chirped.
"Obviously," she replied.
The letter went up in flames before she finished the last sentence.
---
Two hours later, we were in a carriage bound for the palace banquet hall. Arwen sat with arms crossed, regal and seething. I paced her lap like a feral cat on too much sugar.
"They're going to test me," I muttered. "Again. With weird food or haunted forks."
"Let them try," Arwen said. "I brought my own cutlery."
That was not comforting.
---
The banquet hall glittered with enchantments, crystal chandeliers humming softly overhead. Nobles milled like perfumed predators. Everything smelled like power and sugar.
We were fashionably late. Arwen swept in like she owned the place, which she technically did not... yet. I clung to her shoulder, trying not to spark on the drapes.
"Princess Nightveil," purred a noble with teeth too white to be honest. "So glad you could join us."
"Your chandelier's crooked," Arwen replied. "You should fire your architect."
I chirped approvingly.
We were led to the high table, where gilded plates and suspiciously colorful pastries waited. I eyed a cream puff. It blinked.
Arwen caught my stare. "No eating unidentified desserts."
"But it's winking at me."
"Especially not that one."
---
The first half of the banquet was mostly nobles pretending not to stare at me while pretending to be civil. I preened. Arwen ignored them all.
Then the entertainment began.
A bard sang a ballad about legendary soulbeasts. A floating painting tried to depict "ideal familiar behavior" and conveniently excluded biting. A minor lord from House Vellien approached with a soulstone dessert, laced with resonance dust.
"For the familiar," he said, smiling too much.
Arwen smiled back. "Feed it to your own soulbeast. Let's see what happens."
The noble paled and retreated.
I chirped. "That was satisfying."
"They're testing us," she murmured. "Trying to provoke a spark surge."
I ruffled my feathers. "They'll get one if they keep that up."
She glanced at me... not cold, not afraid. Just focused. "Don't let them define you by what scares them."
I chirped softly and pressed closer.
I tried to behave.
Truly.
I sat on Arwen's shoulder. I did not bite the enchanted forks. I only glared at one of the lesser nobles when he whispered the phrase "spark instability" with too much excitement.
But then they brought out the cake.
It wasn't just any cake. It hovered. It glittered with runes. And it hummed in the exact same key as the collar the Empress had tried to slap on me last week.
My feathers flared. Arwen's fingers twitched toward her dagger.
"This is a gift," announced a noble lady in red, her eyes glittering like polished malice. "A peace offering from House Vandrel."
"A resonance treat," added her assistant. "Said to align any soulbeast's spark."
I chirped dangerously. "It's humming at me."
Arwen didn't move. She didn't need to.
Her words were silk wrapped around steel. "He doesn't eat cursed cake."
Several nobles tittered, pretending this wasn't an orchestrated attack.
The lady in red smiled. "Surely he's not afraid."
Arwen smiled wider. "Surely you're not implying fear is rational in the face of poisoned diplomacy."
Silence. Someone choked on wine.
Then I flared... not wildly, but with intent.
My spark shimmered gold-violet, lighting the room for one breathless moment. Every ward flickered. Every rune stuttered.
I hopped onto the table, stared at the cake, and promptly sat on it.
There was a shriek.
The cake collapsed under me with a sad magical fizz.
I blinked, feathers slightly singed. "Tastes like treason."
Arwen stood. "This farce is over."
The Empress wasn't present, but her spies were. Nobles watched us like we'd just kicked a royal puppy.
We left without waiting for permission.
---
Outside the banquet hall, a cloaked figure waited in the shadow of a pillar.
Arwen didn't stop. "State your business or lose your kneecaps."
The figure chuckled. "Invitation."
She paused.
The figure held out a card... black vellum, silver thread. It shimmered faintly.
Undermarket Gathering. One night only. Unregistered bonds welcome.
No crest. No explanation.
Arwen took it. I peered at it, then at her.
She smiled.
"Let's see what secrets they're really hiding.
Back in our tower, Arwen stared at the Undermarket invitation like it might bite her.
I hoped it wouldn't. That was my job.
"They wouldn't invite us unless they wanted something," she said, flipping the card. "Unregistered bonds aren't common. They're… currency."
I blinked. "I am not for sale."
"Obviously," she replied, but her voice was tight.
I watched her pack... not weapons, not dresses, but wards. Slips of paper inscribed with tiny runes, bottles of mirror-ink, a single strand of shadowthread.
This wasn't just infiltration.
This was war prep.
"You think it's a trap?" I chirped.
She nodded. "But it's one we have to walk into."
I flopped into her satchel dramatically. "I demand snacks for this."
A faint smile. "Deal."
---
We didn't leave immediately.
First, we had to survive one more interruption.
The tower door exploded inward... not literally, but with the kind of force only noble arrogance can muster. Valesh stood framed in the doorway, cloak billowing, two attendants flanking him.
"You've been summoned," he said.
"No," Arwen replied.
He stepped inside uninvited. "There's been an emergency session of the Binder's Council. They want you to explain your... behavior at the banquet."
"I sat on a cake," I chirped.
"It was treasonous cake," Arwen added.
Valesh ignored us. "They're invoking the Containment Clause. They want your soulbeast registered within the hour. Or removed from campus grounds."
Arwen didn't blink. "Try."
"You'll lose everything."
"No," she said softly. "They will."
I flared my feathers for effect.
Valesh scowled. "You're isolating yourself."
Arwen stepped forward. "No. I'm choosing freedom. You should try it sometime."
Valesh's attendants hesitated, sensing the storm behind her words.
He left without another word.
We didn't watch him go.
---
An hour later, we slipped into the shadows beneath the Academy.
The Undermarket waited.
And we were ready.
The Undermarket wasn't on any map.
It existed in the seams... stitched between the Academy's foundations and the city's bones. We entered through a side gate, past three layers of illusion, and down a staircase that whispered with every step.
I hated it immediately.
The air smelled like smoke, ambition, and illegal potions. Lights floated without source, casting gold and violet hues that made everything feel half-real.
Arwen walked like she belonged. I perched on her shoulder, feathers fluffed, spark humming softly under my skin.
No one stopped us.
Because no one wanted to.
The Undermarket was full of the unregistered. Familiars in strange forms. Binders with forbidden marks. Merchants selling items that pulsed with too much life. Music throbbed from a place that didn't echo properly.
A masked vendor waved at us. "Soulbond candy? Guaranteed to enhance spark compatibility!"
"No," Arwen said.
"Yes," I chirped. "Wait, no... do not buy from him."
We kept walking.
Deeper.
Past stalls of memory-thread. Past whispers of Ascendant bonds. Past eyes that lingered too long on me.
"They know," I whispered.
Arwen nodded. "They smell power. And fear."
We reached a clearing where a stage rose... not for performance, but for declaration.
A figure stepped onto it. Cloaked. Masked. Voice like velvet steel.
"Tonight, we welcome the unbound. Tonight, we challenge the Empire's leash."
The crowd murmured.
"Let those who have tasted collar and cut it... speak."
Arwen didn't hesitate.
She walked to the stage, every step daring.
"I'm Arwen Nightveil," she said. "And I didn't cut the leash."
She glanced at me.
"I burned it."
Gasps.
I flared... not wildly. Just enough to light the space between us.
Enough to show them we were real.
The figure nodded. "Then welcome, Flamebond."
My spark pulsed at the name.
I didn't know what it meant.
But it felt like beginning.