Chapter 66 — The Last Night of Flames
Shadeblade POV
The fire crackled, sending sparks spiraling into the night sky, and I realized I hadn't felt this alive in weeks. Not because of danger, not because of chaos, but because of something rarer: comfort. Comfort, laughter, and enough roasted meat to make a dragon blush.
I adjusted the boney mask — the familiar crack stretching from my left eye to cheek catching the firelight — and let myself relax. For once, I didn't have to be sharp, disciplined, or "Tier‑2 Disciplined" in the middle of a forest full of enemies. Tonight, the only monsters were my crew's appetites.
Bran Korrick, ever the muscle and drama of the group, was attempting to carve a roast with the precision of a berserker wielding a sledgehammer. "Who knew boar could be this uncooperative?" he grunted, sending a chunk flying straight into Selia's lap.
Selia "Whisper" Nore didn't flinch. Instead, she flicked it back with her boot, aiming straight for Bran's helmet. "You call that cooking? My grandmother could roast better with her eyes closed. And she's been dead for twenty years!"
I snorted beneath the mask. Tier‑2 Disciplined or not, these two were a hazard on a good day. The air was filled with laughter, smoke, and the kind of camaraderie that made even my spine relax. Even Korran Veyle, the stoic anchor of the group, allowed a corner of his mouth to twitch upward. That was progress.
Lysara, quiet as always, sat a little apart from the chaos, tracing patterns in the dirt with a fingertip. I knew she was observing, not participating. That was her way — analyzing, cataloging, waiting for something. I didn't ask what; I didn't need to. I'd learned long ago that Lysara's silence said more than a thousand words.
"You're smiling," Selia remarked, tossing another roasted bone toward me. It bounced off my shoulder and skittered across the ground. "Finally admitting the Skeleton's not just a walking disaster?"
"Not admitting anything," I muttered, though I allowed a faint smile beneath the mask. "I still trip over my own shadow."
Bran snorted. "A Shadow! Ha! That explains the mask. Skeleton, you're a drama, a spectacle, and apparently a magician now?" He waved vaguely at me, clearly meaning my visible magic sigils.
I nodded subtly. "Magic's real. And no, I'm not hiding it. Swordsmanship? That stays private. Magic… magic is the announcement."
Korran finally spoke, his voice cutting through the laughter with quiet authority. "You've grown stronger in these months. Your control is improving. That display against the wyvern last week? Clean. Efficient. Not a single wasted gesture."
I tilted my head beneath the mask. Praise from Korran was rarer than a calm day in Portscab. I accepted it silently, letting the warmth of the fire and camaraderie soak in.
Selia leaned closer, eyes gleaming. "You know what this means, right? You're going to have to leave us soon."
The words hit like a knife coated in honey. Sweet, but sharp. I frowned. "Leave?"
"Yes, leave," she said, tilting her head. "Your skills… they're too much for a mercenary crew like us. You'll get picked up by someone… bigger. Smarter. Maybe an academy."
I raised an eyebrow beneath the mask. "Academy?"
Bran's jaw dropped. "You mean… a school?"
"Not just any school," Selia said, voice serious now. "One of the biggest in Aerthos. Magical, strategic… expensive. You'll need a scholarship if you don't want to beg the director for mercy."
I rubbed the back of my neck beneath the mask, pretending to think. Truth was, I had already considered it. Magic training, structured learning, access to resources… and my sword skills could remain my secret. I could grow stronger without exposing my full capabilities. "Huh. Interesting," I said finally. "Maybe… maybe I should go."
Lysara's eyes flicked up at me for the first time. "You'll be under scrutiny. Not all eyes will be friendly. Not all instructors are… forgiving."
"I'm not looking for forgiveness," I muttered, letting my sword rest on my lap. "Just… opportunity."
Selia clapped me on the shoulder. "Opportunity it is, Skeleton. But that doesn't mean we won't miss you. Not a day goes by that you don't trip, blunder, or accidentally kill something spectacularly."
I couldn't help a chuckle. "I'll try to keep it subtle."
Bran leaned back, stretching. "And when you're gone, I'll have to find a new punching bag for my jokes. Don't think I won't hold you responsible for that."
Selia smirked. "We're giving you gifts," she said, producing a small satchel. "Scholarship fund. Magic trinkets. A note reminding you to survive."
I accepted it, feeling the weight more than the contents. It wasn't gold or jewels — it was family, in the form of people who had risked everything for me. The thought hit me harder than any fight.
"Good," I said softly. "Then I'll make sure to return the favor."
Night deepened, the fire casting long shadows. Stories, laughter, and mild chaos continued around me. Selia told an exaggerated tale of a "giant boar" that supposedly defeated Bran in a single swing — I knew better, but her performance earned genuine laughter. Bran retaliated with stories of monsters that sneezed flames and somehow survived my clumsy attacks.
Even Korran allowed a rare chuckle, shaking his head. "You two will never learn, will you?"
"Nope," Selia said, bowing dramatically. "And thank you, Shadowblade, for tolerating us."
The nickname caught in my throat. Shadowblade. A subtle shift from Shadeblade, perhaps a play on my constant misadventures. I allowed it — part of the family's humor now.
As the night waned, I leaned back against the tree, staring at the stars. Academy. Magic. Sword training. Hidden identity. Hidden potential. And yet… I was ready. I didn't have to reveal everything. I didn't have to be perfect. Just… myself, with magic open, sword sharpened, and a heart full of chaos, humor, and a little bit of fear.
Selia nudged me. "Going to stare at the stars all night, or are you going to eat before I steal the last piece of boar?"
I smiled beneath the mask. "Fine. But only if Bran stops pretending he's a chef."
Laughter echoed into the night. And for the first time in weeks, I felt like I belonged somewhere. Not just surviving, not just fighting — but living.
Tomorrow, the academy awaited. And Shadeblade, with sword secret, magic visible, and a mind set on growth, would step into a new chapter of his life.