Zeyra had thought he'd gone mad.
Truly, irrevocably mad.
Ashen stood there, battered and bruised, muttering under his breath while staring just above her head. His eyes weren't glassy with confusion. They were sharp. Focused. As though reading something only he could see.
She had been watching him since the moment he had awoken after sensing movement within his room, and his actions were somehow even more pathetic and weird than usual.
Despite that, she said nothing and just watched in silence until she wanted her presence to be noticed.
Zeyra didn't bother taking him seriously.
It wasn't like she expected much of the man she had served closely for the past couple of years.
If this was how he coped with memory loss, or whatever delusion had taken root in his mind, then so be it. It wasn't her place to question it.
But then he asked her to serve him.
At first, it was just an empty question, but then she felt a pressure and weight behind it that made her hesitate. It was as if she were standing before his father, a man that few could face directly without falling to their knees.
But for some reason that she wasn't sure of herself… she accepted.
Be it because it was her sworn duty to remain by his side or because of curiosity and instinct, she doubted much would come from it.
Yet, in the very next breath, everything changed.
The first sensation hit like a vice closing around her heart.
An invisible tether. Tight. Binding. It felt too close to the old restraints that she had broken away from. The kind that shackled not just one's body but their soul. Her entire being rebelled. Her instincts screamed at her to kill, to sever whatever unnatural thing had just latched onto her spirit.
Her fingers twitched.
All it would take was a flick of her wrist, and Ashen's head would roll.
But then came the second sensation - and it stopped her cold.
A surge of energy and power.
Not the artificial kind granted by pills, potions, or rituals. This was different. Real. Rooted in her. A shift so deep it felt like something ancient inside her had been stirred awake.
She inhaled sharply as her mana surged. Her aura followed, flaring violently in her veins. Her limbs felt light. Her senses sharpened. Her core buzzed with energy that didn't belong to anyone but her.
'No… not just power. This is transformation.'
She knew what breakthroughs felt like. She'd hovered at the boundary of the elite tier for a while, always pushing, but never quite tipping over. It was the limit of her natural talent; as such, it was a difficult level to reach.
Zeyra had expected it to come through years of gruelling training or desperate life-or-death combat - then she would most likely be stuck at that level for the rest of her life.
Not through a whispered vow to the pathetic fool that she served.
And yet…
She felt it. The threshold breaking. The ceiling was gone.
That wasn't all.
There was something else - something even rarer than advancement.
A Special Trait.
Shadows.
The ancient gift of the unseen. A rare inheritance spoken of only in myth, said to appear once in a generation of assassins born under cursed stars. She'd mimicked the style for years, mirrored the techniques… but now? It was hers. Real. Resonating through every inch of her being.
Zeyra remained frozen on one knee.
Not in reverence. In restraint.
The force within her was wild. Raw. Overwhelming. Both aura and mana were roaring through her like twin storms fighting for control. With the ceiling lifted, all the time she had spent pushing her limits now finally paid off.
However, it was all at once and now threatened to engulf her.
Her body trembled - not from weakness, but from the sheer volume of energy rushing through her system.
She gritted her teeth, enduring the feeling of being torn apart from the inside out.
Her other knee hit the floor.
She wasn't afraid of pain. But this? This was dangerous. If she didn't stabilise quickly, the backlash could leave her crippled or worse.
Closing her eyes, she sat cross-legged and began regulating the flow of energy.
Focused breaths. Grounded thoughts. Precise circulation.
This wasn't the first time she'd danced along the edge.
But it was the first time the edge moved for her.
The breakthrough hit all at once.
Both paths - mana and aura - cleared simultaneously. Her channels widened. Her spiritual core expanded. A wave of understanding washed through her as her senses refined, sharpened, and elevated.
She was no longer just an assassin trained in two disciplines.
She had reached the elite level in both.
A dual breakthrough - instant, seamless.
It was unheard of.
Few walked down the path of both an Arcanist and an Aurist since progress would be much slower. It was inefficient and was like splitting one's time and resources in half.
And of those that did, jumping to the next level in both paths simultaneously was theoretically impossible.
Yet here she was experiencing it, and it was all because of him.
Ashen.
Her eyes opened slowly, glowing faintly as the energy settled into her bones. She glanced at him, still sitting just a few steps away, observing her like a child examining a particularly interesting insect.
He had been deep in thought and still behaved unusually, but now his attention was all on her.
His gaze wasn't mocking.
It was curious. Calculating.
She hated how closely it resembled his father's. That same unnerving pressure behind the eyes. That sense of being weighed, dissected… not as a person, but as a piece.
And yet, despite the chill crawling up her spine, she didn't resist it.
Because she understood something now.
Ashen hadn't just changed. He had somehow changed her with him upon her acceptance to serve him.
And whether it was intentional or not, he had done something no one else ever could.
He'd lifted her beyond her limits and awakened a Special Trait she didn't even know she had.
'This isn't a coincidence,' she thought, hands steady now, heart slowing to its new rhythm. 'This is something else entirely. Some kind of transcendent power that can alter reality itself.'
There were no spells. No blood contracts. No artifacts involved.
He'd simply spoken, and the rest was history.
That pressure she'd felt earlier, the instinct to submit, to obey - it all made sense now. It wasn't weakness.
It was intuition.
The kind that whispered in the presence of Kings.
She rose to her feet, still quiet, still composed. But inside her, a storm had passed and left behind something new.
Ashen Thorn. The youngest Drakenthorn. The failure of the family. The cursed one.
And now… her King.
Whether he knew it or not, he had just gained something priceless.
How he had done it, she had no idea. But she was certain of one thing... he owed her an explanation.
A long one.