Due to my betrothal to Cyrus, Serf Seraphiel was obligated to take me into his home. After the ordeal, the King's guards investigated what had happened to my father. Most of the evidence was already consumed by the flames, save for some clear signs of his frequent use of witchcraft. It was concluded that the use of dark magic was likely the cause of the house fire, and now the King needed a new Mongrel with blood manipulation to either bribe or break into submission. There was a looming threat that I might be next, once my abilities fully matured.

I wasn’t safe. Serf Seraphiel and Cyrus were the only ones who knew about Kako and my demonic lineage. That same night, I had broken down into a panic and confessed everything. Serf Seraphiel warned that we couldn’t let anyone find out—it would place all of our lives at risk. If I were forced to work for the King, someone would quickly uncover the truth.

Despite the gravity of my revelation, Serf Seraphiel remained remarkably calm, likely due to his knowledge of lineage and the original Celestials. He explained that demonic possession was more common in the early days of Mongrel history and understood that my emotions were to blame for Kako’s influence. He also mentioned that, though I couldn’t hear Kako’s voice constantly, it didn’t mean he couldn’t affect my decisions.

“You see, Demons have the ability to coax you into doing their dirty work without you realizing it,” he informed me. “They’re powerful enough to push your thoughts in a certain direction, making you believe you’re the one making the decisions when you're not. I presume that’s why you thought to burn the house.” His words left me feeling hopeless, but he promised to help me learn to control it. “Discernment is key when distinguishing between your thoughts and his.”

That’s exactly what we planned to do today. Serf Seraphiel mentioned a place we could go where the King's guards wouldn’t see us training—but it was dangerous. Not far from the outskirts of the Veil District was No Man’s Land, a sanctuary where Mongrels had gathered centuries ago to avoid capture. Their skills were formidable enough that the King struggled to seize it.

We had to be extremely cautious—not only to avoid getting caught entering No Man’s Land but also to ensure we weren’t recognized as Mongrels from the Veil District. The Mongrels in No Man’s Land distrusted us, believing we were too weak for submitting to the King's punishments. Trusting outsiders had been fatal to them in the past, and they were determined to avoid repeating that mistake.

Given the risk, I would have preferred to stay in the Veil– if my existence didn’t endanger us all.

We packed everything needed for a few days, including weapons and sparring tools. Serf Seraphiel believed sparring would provoke my emotions, helping me practice control. We also changed into appropriate clothing for the exercise.

Cyrus lent me some of his mother's belongings, with his father's permission. Her clothes were still baggy on me but fit well enough. I donned a pair of old, stained garments with stretchy fabric. When I emerged, Cyrus and Serf Seraphiel were collecting the final items.

Amidst the chaos of recent days, I hadn't realized how much Cyrus had grown. He was much taller, his blonde curls now brushing past his ears, and his frame had filled out with muscle. As I looked up, his bright blue eyes met mine.

“Ah, Nemmi—are you ready?” he asked, smiling.

Then I noticed it... a pimple on his cheek. “Eww,” I exclaimed. “Eww! Cy, you have a pimple!”

His expression flattened. “Shut up, Nemmi. I’m fourteen now. It’ll happen to you too.” I feigned a loud gagging sound, turning my head dramatically. As I turned back, he was standing inches away from me, the same dumb expression on his face, with his hand up to my forehead. Taking a deep breath, he flicked his finger hard– causing me to jolt back.

“Oww!” I protested. “You little jerk!”

Serf Seraphiel chuckled. I couldn’t help the smile that crossed my lips, knowing it was my first in days. “Alright, enough bickering,” he admonished gently. “We need to head out while there’s still light."

We moved as quietly as possible, hiding behind buildings and trees, scoping the area whenever the opportunity arose. All we had to do was make it to No Man’s Land without one of the King’s guards detecting us. The journey was about forty minutes, but as we approached the Veil District's edge, we spotted a group of six guards. Serf Seraphiel motioned us into the cover of a nearby bush, and we crouched down.

“...Yea, that bitch was feisty,” one of the guard’s said. Although they were a bit distant, their voices carried in the still air.

The others laughed, and one added, “During one of my assignments to the King’s district, my group found a female just like that. She acted like we were beneath her, so we taught her some manners—roughed her up real good.”

I gritted my teeth. Although I hadn’t heard their entire conversation, I understood enough to know they were scoundrels. All King's guards acted with impunity, drunk on their authority.

“We may need to use our abilities to get past them,” Serf Seraphiel whispered.

“What are we supposed to do, Dad?” Cyrus asked softly. “My ability only heals people—how’s that going to help?”

“Yours won’t,” Serf said, “But Noemi’s and mine might do the trick.”

My eyes widened. I’d never used my ability against six people, let alone one. These weren’t purebloods either—they were Mongrels, capable of fighting back.

“I-I can’t,” I stammered. “I’m not strong enough. I’ve hardly used it before.”

“Just try it on me real quick, Nemmi,” Cyrus said. “I’m a healer, so we don’t typically feel pain as bad as others do. It shouldn’t hurt too much.”

Serf Seraphiel nodded. “We’re in a good spot. It should be safe to practice a bit, but we have to stay quiet. We don’t want to give up our position.”

I complied silently. Raising my hands, I attempted to focus my energy toward Cyrus, but all I could hear was the guards’ roaring laughter. After a few moments, Cy’s finger twitched slightly– but that was all I managed. I let out a sigh of frustration.

“That was good, Noemi,” Serf encouraged. I looked at him furiously, but he continued, “Seriously– it means you know enough to disable one of them. Focus your energy more on the object you are trying to move– what you want his body to do; ignore the background noise, and direct your thoughts at Cyrus. That’s all there is to it.”

I nodded and tried again. Just as he explained, I focused my energy past my fingers into Cyrus. What did I want him to do?

A second later, an intrusive thought took control. Cyrus’s hand slowly raised to his face. It was working! Confusion knit his brows together, trying to figure out what I was going to make him do. As his finger neared his nose, he looked panicked, and a wicked smile spread across my lips.

“Noemi—ugh,” he protested. “Please, don’t make me—” His finger made contact with the inside of his nostril, and he sighed. “Whatever… not like I don’t do it when I’m by myself anyway.”

I grimaced, releasing my hold, and wiped my hands on my shirt. It felt like I’d been the one picking. My gaze moved to Serf Seraphiel, success written across my face.

“Good, Noemi,” he said, relieved. “Alright, here’s the plan. We’ll create a distraction, just enough to sneak past unnoticed…”

The plan unfolded with precision. We positioned ourselves as the guards continued their barbaric storytelling. I focused on the loudest one, the brunette who had bragged about roughing up women. Directing my energy, I willed his body to seize.

His muscles tensed before he dropped to the ground. The other guards gathered around him, confusion rippling through their ranks.

“I can’t move,” he gritted through clenched teeth. “Fuck, everything hurts.”

“Oh, man, you might be having a seizure or something,” a younger, blonde guard spoke up.

“No, idiot,” an older, disgruntled guard retorted, rolling his eyes. “Seizures cause your body to seize, not just lie there.” He looked around to the other guards. “Someone get him water—he might be experiencing a heat stroke. It’s fucking hot out here.”

Two guards rushed off with a canteen, leaving four. One was incapacitated at the moment, and two hovered over him, trying to help. That left one guard for Serf Seraphiel.

Serf Seraphiel’s ability was inertia manipulation. He could stop an object in motion, or cause objects that weren’t in motion to move rapidly.

The object he chose was the remaining guards' lungs. He didn’t kill him, just stopped his breathing temporarily, causing him to collapse unconscious. With a thud, the remaining problem fell to the floor.

“Shit! It’s too damn hot today,” the smart one said. “Thorne’s down too.” He looked at the “idiot,” the young blonde, and barked at him to fetch more water.

With only one remaining, we slipped past the Veil boundary, running toward our destination. Before I released my hold on the guard, I wanted one more piece of victory. I forced his body to sit up, slapping himself hard in the face.

“Oww, damn!” he cursed.

For the first time, I tasted the smallest bit of freedom.