CHAPTER 10 — LESSONS WRITTEN IN BLOOD
Seraphine Veyra arrived just after midday, stepping through the Nightshade gates like someone who had done so before—and survived it.
"Still hiding behind wards instead of walls?" she said dryly, brushing invisible dust from her coat.
Selara Nightshade smiled, slow and genuine. "Still walking into dangerous estates without announcing yourself?"
They embraced briefly. Not warmly—but familiarly. Two women who had bled in adjacent chapters of life.
Zephyr noticed everything.
No formal bows. No titles beyond necessity. The way Seraphine's posture softened half a fraction in Selara's presence. The way his mother didn't bother masking her aura.
'So they trust each other,' he thought. 'Enough to be careless.'
"This is him?" Seraphine asked, turning at last. Her amber eyes locked onto Zephyr, sharp and assessing. "He has your eyes. That worries me."
Zephyr blinked. "That's fair."
Selara laughed quietly. "He's worse. He listens."
"Then he's doomed," Seraphine replied, lips twitching.
They moved into the smaller warded study together. No servants. Selara poured wine for Seraphine without asking—another quiet confirmation of familiarity.
"You look thinner," Selara said.
"You look richer," Seraphine replied. "Life choices."
Selara gestured to Zephyr. "Teach him what you once yelled at me for ignoring."
Seraphine snorted. "You ignored me anyway."
"And I lived," Selara said sweetly.
Seraphine turned to Zephyr. "Let's see if you're smarter than your mother was at your age."
"That's a low bar," Selara said calmly.
Zephyr decided he liked this lesson already.
Seraphine raised her hand.
The air shimmered.
Lines of pale blue light ignited in the space between them, forming floating sigils and glyphs that rearranged themselves fluidly—maps, figures, symbols layered atop one another.
Zephyr inhaled sharply.
'Sustained projection magic,' he noted. 'No casting delay. Controlled output.'
"Axiom Nallura," Seraphine said, fingers guiding the glowing constructs, "was never gentle. Before systems, power was inherited through blood, evolution, and brutality."
Demonic silhouettes expanded and collapsed. Beasts devoured one another. Human settlements flickered out like dying embers.
Zephyr raised a hand. "No system means unlimited growth—but also no recovery."
Seraphine glanced at Selara. "Told you he listens."
Selara smirked. "Unfortunately."
"The Classic System arrived during the Convergence Era," Seraphine continued, shifting the construct into a lattice of symbols. "Power became measurable. Skills ranked. Advancement visible."
"And visibility creates pressure," Zephyr said.
"And pressure creates obedience," Selara added, sipping her wine.
Seraphine smiled faintly. "You've taught him well."
Seven glyphs formed in the air, each deeper and more complex than the last.
Spark.
Thread.
Weave.
Pattern.
Law.
Axiom.
Null.
"These are not labels," Seraphine said. "They are depths of interaction with reality."
Zephyr stared at the final glyph. "Null isn't depth. It's absence."
Seraphine's hand stilled. "Explain."
"If the system defines reality," Zephyr said carefully, "then Null exists outside its authority. It can't be predicted. That makes it unacceptable."
Selara's smile faded just a touch.
"And feared," Seraphine said quietly. "Even by those who built the ladder."
With a sharp motion, the glyphs shattered. Names appeared—most scratched out, fragmented, half-erased.
"Everyone who reached Law-rank or higher died," Seraphine said. "Not because they failed. Because they were noticed."
Zephyr frowned. "So the danger isn't strength."
"No," Selara said softly. "It's relevance."
Zephyr nodded. "Then the optimal strategy is asymmetry. Enough power to survive. Not enough to unite opposition."
Seraphine laughed, genuine this time. "He sounds like you."
Selara sighed. "I'm so sorry."
The magic faded. The room returned to stillness.
"You carry incubus blood," Seraphine said, tone shifting—serious now. "Dormant. Later, it will affect how people see you."
Zephyr met her gaze. "Then perception becomes a resource."
"Or a leash," Selara said.
"Lady Seraphine, may I ask a question?" Zephyr asked.
"Speak freely.",she said.
" How and when do we awaken our system?." He asked
Seraphire threw a glare at Selara and asked
"You didn't even told about this to him?" She said.
Selara smiled akwardly and said "Hehe,I forgot. With this much work on my plate I can't even play with him during his playing hours. He spends it alone with his books what can I do?" She replied
"Okay, Zephyr hear this." So cleared her throat and said "The system is bestowed upon us by the God almighty Sion. So when a child reaches the age of 12 he/she is taken to the church to pray to the his almighty and after a blinding light he will bestowed you your system."
"What?That's it. You go and pray and get a system! That simple." He explaimed
"Yes, it is." Seraphine said then—
Seraphine stood, adjusting her coat. "Most children ask who the heroes were."
Zephyr replied evenly, "Heroes are just survivors who stayed useful."
Seraphine paused, then nodded once. "You'll fit into this world. Regrettably."
As she and Selara walked toward the corridor, their voices dropped into familiar cadence—old stories, half-finished jokes, shared scars.
Zephyr watched them go.
'So this is how alliances really look,' he thought. 'Not loyalty. History.'
And history, he was learning, was the sharpest weapon of all.