Morning arrived reluctantly, as though the night had not finished whispering its secrets. Pale gold seeped through the manor windows in thin, hesitant streaks, illuminating dust motes that drifted like tiny ghosts. The place always seemed older at dawn, its hallways long and echoing, its stone floors cold, its silence just a little too heavy. Gina woke before the others. Sleep had been shallow, broken by half-formed memories and that strange, pulsing unease that had begun just after last night's gathering. She rubbed her face, stretched the stiffness from her limbs, and breathed in the quiet. Her room was still dim, lit only by the faint outline of the window. She dressed without ceremony: dark trousers, a fitted black shirt, and her usual worn leather jacket. She tied her hair back loosely and studied her reflection, not out of vanity, but grounding. Her ocean-blue eyes still held that sharp spark, but something in their depths felt… stirred. Like a half-woken flame. By the time Gina stepped into the hallway, the manor had begun to stir. A few servants whispered at the far end; somewhere downstairs, pots clattered. But the air felt wrong… charged, expectant, thick like the world was holding its breath. She didn't get far before a familiar voice called out. "You're up early." Tommy greeted. He leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, dark curls messy, expression soft but curious. He looked like someone who had tried to sleep and failed. Gina shrugged. "Couldn't stay still."
"Yeah," Tommy said. "I felt it too. The house is weird this morning."
"Weird how?" Tommy hesitated, then gestured vaguely. "Like the walls are listening." Gina snorted. "Comforting." Before he could respond, footsteps echoed down the corridor, far too awake for this hour. Luca rounded the corner, a grin already lifting his face. His shirt was half-buttoned, and he held an apple between his teeth like he'd stolen breakfast on the way. "You two look like you fought a ghost," he said around a bite. Then he frowned. "Did you fight a ghost? Please tell me I didn't oversleep for that." Gina shook her head. "No ghosts. Just a feeling." Luca's smile faded. He looked between them. "…You felt it too." That was the moment Gina knew it wasn't just nerves. Something had shifted, something deep. Something real. Tommy glanced toward the balcony. "We should look outside." Gina nodded, and the three of them walked together, past portraits that seemed to watch, past windows where the morning was still pale and weak, past the doors that hummed with old wood and old silence. The balcony overlooked the courtyard. They stepped into the cold air, and the tension hit them instantly. Below, guards moved with urgency disguised as routine. Horses were being saddled earlier than usual. Two captains argued quietly near the well. A scout hurried through the gate, cloak dusted with dirt as though he'd ridden hard. The world felt tight. Pulled. Bracing. Tommy leaned on the stone railing. "Something happened."
"Or is about to," Luca muttered. Gina watched the courtyard carefully, fingers tapping the railing in a slow, thoughtful rhythm. A rhythm she didn't recognize. A rhythm that wasn't hers. Her breath hitched. A flicker—just for a second—passed across her vision. A silhouette in the far corner of the courtyard. Tall, cloaked, unmoving. The shadows around it seemed to cling… too eagerly. But when she blinked, the shape was gone. "Gina?" Tommy asked quietly, noticing the change in her posture. She swallowed. "It's nothing." But it wasn't nothing. And they all knew it. Luca exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Alright, what's the plan? Because standing here pretending everything is normal doesn't feel like the best option." Gina pressed her lips together. Her instincts were a storm, pulling her in directions she didn't understand, warning her of things just out of reach. She didn't have answers. Not yet. But she had direction. "We check the grounds," she said. "All of them. If something's wrong, I'm not waiting until it shows up at the door." Tommy nodded immediately. Luca followed a heartbeat later. As they turned to leave the balcony, the light shifted—just slightly. A breeze swept through the courtyard, cold and sharp, and the shadows along the far wall stretched unnaturally long before snapping back into place. Gina didn't see it. But she felt it. Like a hand brushing the edge of her mind. A whisper that wasn't a voice. A memory that wasn't hers…
The courtyard was quiet except for the scrape of leather boots on stone and the occasional whistle of the wind. Gina rolled her shoulders and drew her sword, the metal catching the weak morning light. Across from her, Luca mirrored her stance, eyes narrowed but a small smirk tugging at his lips. "You're tense," he said, twirling his own blade lazily. "What's on your mind? Still thinking about last night?" Gina shook her head, though her grip tightened on the hilt. "Always something on my mind. You know me too well."
"Not really," Luca countered, feinting left. "But I do know you never stop worrying. That's why you always overcompensate in training." Gina let out a short laugh, a bark more than a smile, and lunged forward. The clash of steel rang sharp, echoing against the walls. Despite the morning's chill, sweat prickled her brow. "You've improved," Luca admitted, blocking her strike. "Faster, more precise. Still sloppy on your footwork, though. Left leg!" She grunted and shifted, feeling the pull of muscle memory. Training with Luca was as much mental as physical; he pushed her, teased her, and somehow made it feel effortless, even when exhaustion threatened to take over. A sudden shimmer of movement behind the wall drew her attention, and her grip faltered. For a moment, the courtyard seemed to blur, and the air thickened. Shadows whispered at the edge of her vision. She blinked, and it was gone. Just wind, she told herself. Just shadows stretching too early in the day.
Later, Gina retreated to a quiet corner of the manor, wiping sweat from her forehead. She closed her eyes, letting the ache in her limbs loosen. But as she sank into the quiet, another sensation arrived, a memory long buried, fragile as glass. She was a child again. Tiny hands clutching the hem of her father's coat, eyes wide with wonder. He had knelt before her, a gentle smile on his face, hands glowing faintly as he traced a symbol in the air. "Magic," he whispered. "It isn't just power. It's responsibility. You carry it with your heart, not your fists." The memory twisted, darkened. She remembered the fire that had taken him, the smoke that had filled the room, the warmth snatched away before she could understand it. The ache of loss settled deep in her chest, but alongside it came a pulse, a spark. Something that refused to die. When she opened her eyes, the courtyard was empty, the morning still pale and hesitant. She pressed a hand to her chest, feeling that spark as a reminder: she carried more than grief. She carried him. Tommy appeared then, leaning lazily against the doorframe. "You talk to yourself again, or is that the ghost of your father giving tips?" Gina smirked faintly. "Neither. Just… remembering." He studied her for a long moment, then shook his head with a small smile. "You carry a lot with you. Makes you sharp, though. Lucky for Luca."
"Don't flatter him," Gina replied, laughing softly. "He's insufferable enough without your help." Tommy chuckled. "Fair." He paused, glancing toward the training area where Luca still practiced alone. "He's… invested in you, you know." Gina frowned, turning her gaze to where Luca moved with focus and ease. There was an intensity to him, a drive she could never fully untangle, but it didn't feel like rivalry. Not quite. Adrien's shadow fell across the balcony above the courtyard, silent until Gina noticed him. He watched, eyes unreadable, expression calm but observant. "You think too much," he said quietly when she looked up. "About the past, about the future. You tend to forget the present."
"And you think you can fix that?" she asked, smirking despite herself. "Maybe," he replied, tilting his head. "Or maybe I just notice. Paying attention to details that others may miss." The corners of her mouth twitched in a ghost of a smile. Adrien's presence was always a paradox, comfortable yet unsettling, teasing yet watchful. She didn't need him to interfere, but somehow she welcomed it.
By mid-morning, the manor had settled into a false calm. Sunlight pooled in corners, yet shadows lingered too long, reluctant to leave. Gina moved through the halls, carrying the residue of training in her arms and the memory of her father in her chest. Every step echoed softly, mingling with the distant clatter of routine life, but beneath it all was a rhythm she couldn't name, a tension she felt in her bones. A sudden shuffle from the stairwell caught her attention. She glanced up, expecting a servant, but instead saw Adrien, standing casually by the railing. His dark coat hung neatly, his expression calm, but there was a sharpness in his eyes, subtle and probing. He didn't speak immediately, just watched her. Gina felt the prick of awareness at the back of her neck. Adrien wasn't usually this quiet, and the way he observed made her instincts twitch. "You're… early," he said finally, voice measured. "I thought most people would still be sleeping after last night's gathering." Gina smirked faintly, tightening her grip on her sword. "Some of us don't sleep well." She didn't add that her restlessness came from more than just nerves. Adrien tilted his head, studying her for a moment longer before giving a short shrug. "Fair enough. Just… keep your routines predictable. Makes it easier to—" He paused, choosing his words carefully. "—know what's going on around you." She raised a brow, sensing his underlying suspicion. "Is that what you think? That I'm hiding something?" He gave nothing away, his lips curving in a neutral line. "Not necessarily hiding… just unusual. You move differently from others here. Always have." Gina let it go, brushing it off as he stepped back. His attention was fleeting, but the feeling lingered, Adrien noticed things, even if he didn't understand them yet. And that alone made her uneasy.
Later, in the courtyard, Gina trained alone. Her sword traced arcs and lines she barely remembered learning as a child, motions her father had once guided her through. Each movement was imperfect, but instinctively right. The memory of him, the warmth, the quiet lessons hovered around her like a faint, protective glow. A soft wind picked up, rustling the leaves and sending a shiver down her spine. She blinked, and for a moment, the courtyard seemed to shift. Shadows lengthened unnaturally at the edges of her vision, then snapped back to normal. She shook her head. "Just imagination," she whispered to herself. A sound drew her attention, soft footfalls along the stone path. Adrien had returned, this time leaning casually against the railing, arms crossed. He didn't speak immediately, but his eyes followed her movements closely, as though measuring, cataloguing. "You push yourself too hard," he said eventually, a hint of curiosity in his tone. "Not everyone can keep up with you." Gina lowered her sword slightly, keeping her face neutral. "I'm not pushing to impress anyone," she said lightly, masking the truth. "I'm pushing because… well, it matters." She left it at that, unwilling to reveal more. Adrien's gaze lingered, sharp and questioning. He didn't know what mattered so much to her, only that something did. His instincts whispered there was more than met the eye but he misread it, thinking perhaps she was tangled in secrets of a personal nature rather than revolutionary purpose. Tommy and Luca appeared then, quietly leaning on the edge of the courtyard. "Look at you," Luca said, grinning. "All brooding and focused. You're like a storm waiting to happen." Tommy chuckled. "She scares plenty of people already. At least we know better." Gina allowed herself a faint smile, lowering her sword completely. "Some of us learn to fear less… or at least choose what's worth fearing."
They stood together for a few moments in quiet camaraderie. Their connection didn't need words, trust and shared experience filled the space, grounding her after the stirrings of memory and suspicion. Still, the unease in the manor persisted. Shadows moved where they shouldn't. The wind whispered like a warning, carrying something faintly sharp. It wasn't visible, but she could feel it, coiling at the edges of her awareness. Gina pressed a hand to her chest. Whatever was coming, it would not catch them entirely unprepared. She and her companions were ready to face it, even if Adrien didn't know the true extent of what she carried within her. The sunlight strengthened, illuminating the courtyard in brilliance, but the warmth did little to dispel the tension. Gina glanced at Luca and Tommy, then up at Adrien, who had returned to a shadowed spot on the railing. Something in his posture suggested suspicion, yes, but also curiosity, a silent watchfulness that could turn into ally or obstacle depending on how things unfolded. Her hand tightened around the hilt of her sword. Whatever was coming, she would face it. And she would not face it alone. Beneath the laughter, the teasing, and the morning routine, the world was stirring. The quiet before the storm was coming, and the first signs were already threading through the manor's halls. Gina inhaled sharply, letting the pulse of her memory, her power, and her companions steady her. They were ready.
The sun had begun its slow crawl toward the horizon, turning the courtyard's stone walls a soft amber. Adrien leaned against the railing above, arms crossed, eyes narrowed slightly. From here, he could see everything, the way Gina moved with practiced precision, how Luca laughed at her teasing remarks, the ease between them that made Adrien's chest tighten in ways he refused to name. He scowled at himself. 'Get a grip', he muttered under his breath. Watching them wasn't—couldn't be—about more than observation. He reminded himself that. He was the Council's shadow in these walls today, nothing more.
Nothing personal.
And yet.
Gina's laugh carried across the courtyard, a bright, careless sound that somehow made her seem untouchable. She ducked a feint from Luca, countered with a quick strike, then rolled to her feet, hair flying. Adrien's jaw clenched involuntarily. 'Luca', he thought bitterly. Of course it has to be him. He scolded himself. She's just… training with him. That's all. No one's hiding anything.
But his instincts gnawed at him anyway. The way they moved together, synced without needing words, the quiet teasing glances, the occasional brush of hands, it was too intimate for casual training. Too natural. Adrien's hand flexed at his side. Jealousy. That's what it was. Simple. Annoying. And utterly inconvenient. He watched Tommy from the corner of his eye, noting the boy's relaxed grin as he rolled along the ground, narrowly dodging a playful strike from Luca. Tommy was oblivious or maybe he just didn't care. That always made Adrien a little envious too. He would have thought the carefree type like Tommy wouldn't belong in such… messy dynamics. But Luca and Tommy, there was something there, subtle and quiet. Adrien frowned. 'Not my concern'. He shifted his weight, still keeping his gaze on Gina. She ducked another attack from Luca, then jabbed forward with a precision that would have been lethal if this were anything more serious. Her focus was sharp, her body coiled and fluid. Yet beneath it, he could sense the fire she always carried, the way she seemed… untouchable, unbending. Dangerous in ways he didn't fully understand. Something's up with her.
He shook his head, trying to dismiss it. Magic, maybe? Impossible. The Council would have known if a girl like her carried it. And yet… there was a rhythm to her, a confidence in movement, a subtle control over the flow of energy he couldn't name. He'd seen enough to know she wasn't ordinary, but he had no proof. Nothing concrete. And the more he watched, the more he couldn't stop. Gina laughed again, ducking under Luca's outstretched arm, and something inside him clenched. She always seemed so effortless, so untouchable. And Luca… Luca was infuriatingly comfortable around her. Broody, brooding, sharp-tongued Adrien felt a pang of inadequacy he refused to acknowledge. Jealousy, yes. But why? He scowled at himself. 'She's not yours. She's not anyone's'. And yet the thought of her sharing smiles, laughter, those fleeting touches with Luca… it pricked at him, unrelenting. Adrien's fingers flexed at the railing, his thoughts dark and tangled. He had to keep his distance, had to observe, had to understand what was happening here before he acted or misjudged. He couldn't let anything slip by unnoticed, not in a manor full of secrets, not with the Council watching. But the more he watched, the more a different tension began to creep in, the pull of curiosity that made his chest tighten with something he didn't want to name. He needed to know her. To understand what she really was. To see if his suspicions were wrong… or right. He forced his gaze back on the courtyard, where Gina rolled a playful feint and Luca doubled over with laughter. Tommy grinned from the side, apparently entertained by the chaos. The scene should have been simple, harmless. Yet Adrien's chest tightened again, and he let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. He would keep watching. He would wait. And when the time came, he would act. But for now… all he could do was watch, shadows pooling beneath him as the late afternoon sun burned low, and wonder just what this girl… this impossible, infuriating girl, was hiding.