His inability to read the prince's essence has been driving him mad since this whole disaster began.
I can see it in the tension along his shoulders, the way his silver eyes track every micro-movement Prince Yoshiro makes, the barely perceptible narrowing of his gaze each time those impossible features shift into a new configuration.
Cassius has never encountered something he couldn't sense.
Something his shadows couldn't taste, identify, categorize.
The absence of that information is eroding his composure like acid against stone.
No one responds to Prince Douche's bombshell.
What could we possibly say?
We didn't know. None of us knew. Here we are—men who have bled and fought anddiedfor Gwenievere—and this smirking stranger apparently possesses more knowledge about her purpose than all of us combined.
When the silence stretches past uncomfortable into agonizing, Professor Eternalis decides to take mercy on our collective inadequacy.
"What happened is linked to the chalice," she declares, moving through the chamber with the fluid grace of someone accustomed to commanding attention without demanding it. The hem of her robes brushes against stone that seems to bow slightly in her wake, magical residue responding to her presence like plants turning toward sunlight. "It had to be used to unlock the gates of Year Four."
Damien's brow furrows, his scarred features twisting with confusion that mirrors my own internal chaos. Despite everything—despite the scars we now know he carries, despite the betrayals we're still untangling, despite the complicated knot of emotions that defines our relationship—I find myself moving closer to his position. Solidarity, perhaps. Or simply the instinct that says divided we fall.
"Isn't the chalice the artifact that was going to heal that sister of hers?" he asks, crimson cloak shifting around his shoulders as he adjusts his stance.
I snort at the description—sister—because that word seems entirely too benign for the nightmare we faced.
"Yeah," I interject, unable to keep the venom from my voice, "that psychotic death-driven bitch who literally killed us back there for a few seconds."
The snicker that erupts from across the room has us all turning toward the culprit.
Prince Yoshiro's face has transformed into something almost childlike—features soft with barely contained glee, eyes sparkling with the particular light of someone holding secrets they find absolutelydelicious. He looks like a kid who's just discovered the location of hidden candy, all innocent excitement wrapped around something that probably portends disaster.
"What are you giggling about?" I snap, every instinct I possess screaming that his amusement means danger.
He just grins wider, one elegant finger rising to press against his lips in the universal gesture ofnot telling. The motion should be infuriating—isinfuriating—but there's something in his expression that suggests he's not being malicious so much as genuinely entertained by possessing knowledge we lack.
I still want to punch him.
Repeatedly.
Until that knowing smirk becomes something more appropriate, like terror or unconsciousness.
"The pull that temporarily killed all of you," Professor Eternalis continues, either ignoring Prince Yoshiro's antics or choosing not to acknowledge them, "or more so split your souls out, was actually a chain reaction."
She pauses, letting the weight of that statement settle.
Split our souls out.
The memory resurfaces with visceral clarity—that moment when existence itself seemed to tear, when I watched my own body from outside like a stranger observing someone else's flesh. The sensation of beingunmadeandremadein the same eternal instant, consciousness fragmenting across dimensions that shouldn't exist.
I thought I was dying.
We all thought we were dying.
"All the chalice really did was slow time to almost a standstill," she continues, her voice taking on the particular cadence of someone explaining complex magical theory to laypeople. "The retrieval of your bodies and bringing them to that safety zone before my arrival was due to Prince Yoshiro's assistance."
The words land like blows.
Prince Yoshiro saved us.
