The Nior mansion was unusually calm.
Golden lamps glowed low, shadows stretching long across marble floors. The city outside slept, but inside the Nior house, time slowed.
Rhea sat on the couch, Amaya cradled in her arms.
The baby was warm, impossibly light. One small hand curled around Rhea's finger, trusting without knowing why. Amaya made a soft sound half breath, half sigh and settled against Rhea's chest.
Rhea's jaw unclenched without permission.
"Ninna," Shyra said gently, watching her. "She likes you."
Rhea didn't reply. She brushed her thumb over Amaya's cheek instead, careful, almost reverent. This... this... was the only softness she allowed herself.
Kane stood near the window, wine untouched in her glass. She observed them like a strategist watching a board already in motion.
"You ran today," Kane said calmly.
Rhea stiffened. "I was called."
"I know," Kane replied. "I arranged it."
Shyra turned sharply. "Mother."
Kane didn't look at her. "I wanted my daughters under one roof tonight."
Rhea lifted her gaze, eyes cold. "Or you wanted information."
Kane smiled faintly. "You always were quick."
Amaya stirred, and Rhea instinctively pulled her closer, like a shield.
Shyra stepped forward, voice soft but firm. "Rhea, enough. You're not at war here."
Rhea laughed under her breath. "You think wars announce themselves?"
Shyra crouched beside her, touching Amaya's tiny sock. "I think you're becoming someone you don't have to be."
Rhea looked away.
Kane finally turned. "How is Ling Kwong?"
The name landed like a blade.
Rhea's grip tightened just slightly.
"She's irrelevant," Rhea said.
Kane studied her daughter's face, every micro-expression. "Is she?"
Silence.
Amaya yawned, her fingers tightening around Rhea's shirt. The simple, wordless need cut deeper than any accusation.
Shyra whispered, "You don't have to carry this alone."
Rhea's voice came low, controlled. "I'm not carrying it for myself."
Kane's eyes sharpened. "Good."
Shyra looked between them, realization dawning. "Mother… what are you asking her to become?"
Kane's tone was smooth. "I'm asking her to remember."
Rhea finally spoke, eyes dark, distant.
"I remember everything."
She looked down at Amaya then at the innocent weight in her arms, the future untouched by grudges.
Shyra took Amaya saying "She is sleepy I'm coming" she disappeared down the corridor with Amaya, her soft footsteps fading into the quiet of the mansion. The door closed gently.
Silence settled.
Rhea remained standing where she was, arms crossed now, jaw tight. The warmth Amaya had left behind felt like an accusation.
She turned slowly to Kane.
"Tell me something," Rhea said, voice flat but dangerous.
"Shyra loves you more than me."
Kane didn't deny it.
"She's patient. She's devoted. She would burn herself just to keep you warm." Rhea laughed once, sharp. "She's the elder. She's mature. So tell me why didn't you choose her for your revenge?"
Kane stepped closer. Her heels echoed like a countdown.
"Because Shyra feels," Kane said coldly. "And feeling is a weakness when you're aiming for destruction."
Rhea's eyes flickered.
Kane lifted Rhea's chin with two fingers not gentle. Possessive.
"She would have questioned me," Kane continued. "She would have cried. She would have tried to forgive." A scoff. "Disgusting."
Rhea swallowed. "And me?"
Kane smiled.
"You didn't ask if we should burn the past," Kane said softly. "You asked how deep."
Rhea's breath slowed.
Kane's voice dropped, intimate, poisonous.
"If I had told Shyra to break Ling Kwong… she would have fallen for her instead."
Rhea's lips parted slightly.
"But you?" Kane leaned in, forehead nearly touching Rhea's. "You are fire raised by fire."
She tapped Rhea's chest once.
"My fire."
Rhea's pulse thudded hard.
"You won't fall," Kane whispered. "You won't hesitate. You won't get weak."
She pulled back just enough to meet Rhea's eyes.
"You won't fall for her," Kane said again this time not a question, but a challenge.
"Right?"
For a moment just one the image of Ling flashed uninvited:
rage, control, lips pressed in silence, those eyes burning.
Rhea's mouth curved into a slow, dangerous smile.
"Fall?" she said quietly.
"No."
"I'll make her kneel."
Kane exhaled, satisfied.
Rhea smiled
For a fraction of a second, doubt flickered.
Then she buried it.
Because softness was dangerous.
And tomorrow, she would return to the university
to Ling Kwong.
And the fire she pretended not to feel.
————
The laboratory smelled of antiseptic, metal, and quiet competition.
Steel tables. White coats. Glass beakers lined like soldiers waiting for orders.
Ling Kwong arrived.
She didn't wear the lab coat properly. It hung loose over her shoulders, sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal toned forearms. Hair tied low, sharp jaw set, eyes already bored. She took the central workstation without asking. No one questioned it.
They never did.
Students filed in, nervous, obedient.
Then
Rhea Nior entered.
Late. Not careless-late. Calculated-late.
Today she wore dark trousers, a crisp white shirt tucked in cleanly her lab coat was fitted, cinched at the waist, sleeves hugging her wrists. Hair loose today, dark and heavy, framing her face. The nose ring caught the lab light silver, defiant.
Ling's eyes lifted before she could stop them.
Just for a second.
Too long.
Ling's jaw tightened before she realized it.
Rhea didn't look at her. Walked straight past the line of assigned seats and stopped at the empty station beside Ling's.
Ling laughed softly, venomous.
"Do rules evaporate when you walk in, Miss Attitude?"
Rhea finally turned, eyes calm, cold.
"I didn't see your name written on the universe."
A few students sucked in their breath.
Ling leaned back against the table, eyes raking over her slowly too slowly.
"You're in my space."
Rhea placed her bag down deliberately.
"Then expand it."
The professor entered, oblivious or pretending to be.
"Pair work today," he announced. "No changes."
Ling smiled. Sharp. Dangerous.
"Oh," she murmured. "That's unfortunate."
They worked in silence at first.
Glass clinked. Liquids poured. Measurements taken with brutal precision.
Ling's hands were steady. Perfect. Controlled.
Rhea noticed.
Rhea matched her.
When Ling reached for the reagent, Rhea's hand did too. Their fingers brushed.
Electric. Unwanted. Immediate.
Ling pulled back like she'd been burned, eyes flashing.
"Careful," she said low. "I don't tolerate clumsiness."
Rhea leaned closer not touching, but close enough that Ling could smell her perfume. Something warm. Dangerous.
"Funny," Rhea whispered. "You seem very aware of me for someone who doesn't tolerate much."
Ling's breath hitched barely.
She stepped closer, crowding Rhea against the table, voice a razor.
"You think you're special because you don't bow?"
Rhea lifted her chin.
"No. I know it."
The beaker between them trembled slightly as Ling set it down too hard.
Students around them pretended to work, every nerve tuned to the tension.
Ling bent closer, lips near Rhea's ear not a threat. Worse.
"I ruin people who challenge me."
Rhea didn't move.
She smiled.
Soft. Wicked.
"Then ruin me."
Something cracked.
Not glass.
Control.
Ling straightened abruptly, eyes dark with fury not at Rhea, but at herself.
She turned away sharply.
"Finish the experiment," she snapped. "Try not to poison yourself."
Rhea watched her back, eyes unreadable.
Inside her chest, fire curled tighter.
Inside Ling's, something far more dangerous had begun to spread
Because in a room full of chemicals and glass,
the most volatile reaction was standing inches away from her
and refusing to burn alone.