Chapter 33 Threads of Fire and Starlight

SO this and the last chapter got switched.

Zane

I didn’t make it six feet into the apartment before my little brother exploded into view.

“ZANE. YOU ARE TRENDING.”

Jordan skidded across the polished floor in his socks, holding his tablet like it contained divine revelation. “You’re literally the number one topic on RealmNet, SpellFeed, and BattleThread. At the same time.” His voice vibrated with a manic glee that grated on my already exhausted nerves.

“Damn it,” I muttered, peeling off my jacket, the familiar ache in my ribs a constant reminder of my unwanted fame. “I don’t want to be famous.”

“Too late!” Jordan shouted gleefully, oblivious to my irritation. “Someone already deepfaked you into a realm drama! Episode one dropped an hour ago. It’s you, Aurelia, and a third-year realm hunter named Fenrix in a sword-love triangle set in a post-collapse Kingdom. It’s got 800,000 views!”

“I hate everything,” I said flatly, the words a low groan.

Jordan leapt onto the arm of the couch like a spring-loaded ferret and spun the tablet toward me, thrusting it into my face. “They animated you shirtless! You’ve got a glowing mana tattoo that pulses every time you brood!”

“Stop. Just stop.” My voice was devoid of emotion, a desperate plea.

“And if that wasn’t enough—everyone’s talking about you and Aurelia,” Jordan gasped, his eyes wide with manufactured shock. “One of the hottest girls in the Kingdom just publicly offered to marry you! No big deal! Just casually rewriting the noble hierarchy with your manliness. Brother. Please. Teach me your ways!”

I dropped onto the couch, sinking into the cushions with a groan that came from the depths of my weary soul. “What a disaster.”

Jordan was practically vibrating beside me, a bundle of barely contained energy. “If you end up marrying Aurelia or Serephina—or the Queen, or all three—can I get, like, a flaming hoverbike? Or a spell-drone butler? Or one of those floating jacuzzis that runs on mana steam—?”

“No,” I said, cutting him off before he could escalate further.

Jordan collapsed dramatically, sliding off the couch arm to sprawl across the floor. “Ugh. You’re the worst royal brother ever.”

The doorbell chimed. The soft, melodic sound cut through the domestic chaos.

We both froze, all humor draining from Jordan’s face.

I glanced at the rune pad beside the door. The custom tone. A noble crest announcement. Wait, people actually still use those?

“Oh no,” I muttered. I walked over to the door. “That better not be who I think it is.”

“Oh yes,” Jordan whispered from the floor, his eyes gleaming with renewed mischief, already anticipating another spectacle.

The door unlocked with a soft hiss, revealing the shabby hallway beyond.

Serephina Valette du Lys stood in the doorway.

Jordan’s jaw literally dropped.

She wore a cropped, high-collared blazer over a dangerously low-cut top—a design barely legal in the academic district. Her short pleated skirt shimmered with mana-thread in vibrant pinks and silvers, catching the apartment’s light. Her heels sparkled with intricate runed lacework, glittering with every deliberate step. Every curve of her figure was intentional. Every step, choreographed. Her makeup was flawless; her posture perfect. She looked like a living, breathing work of dangerous art.

Jordan made a noise like a dying combustion engine.

I simply stared. “Lady Valette du Lys.”

The name felt stiff on my tongue.

Serephina offered a serene smile, her violet eyes glinting with amusement. “Evening, Zane. Fancy seeing you here.”

“You look like a war crime had a baby with a fashion house,” I said before I could stop myself.

She glanced down at her outfit, feigning surprise with an elegant tilt of her head. “What? This is my casual I’m-just-in-the-neighborhood look.”

Jordan, meanwhile, had already dropped to one knee, offering a shaky half-bow. “My Queen. Please command me.”

“Jordan,” I said flatly, not breaking eye contact with Serephina. “Get lost.”

“Can I just breathe her air?” he whimpered.

I pointed toward the kitchen. Jordan slunk away, whispering audibly, “She smells like forbidden ambition and strawberries.”

Serephina’s grin widened, genuine and unforced.

I crossed my arms, leaning against the table. “Talk.”

She blinked, still smiling, a hint of playful affront in her eyes. “Excuse me?”

“You didn’t show up in that outfit to discuss the weather, Lady Valette du Lys. You rang the noble-crest bell—an item specifically designed to get attention. You’re here to make an offer. So make it.”

Her smile thinned. “Are you always this blunt?”

“Pretty much.”

“What if I simply came here to seduce you?” she teased, her voice a low purr.

I shrugged. “Then I will take you to bed right now. You nobles get very weird about control and sex and who mounts who.”

From the kitchen, Jordan’s voice exploded: “HE SAID MOUNT.”

Serephina choked on a laugh, genuine and unladylike. She stared at me like I’d suddenly grown an extra head.

I raised an eyebrow. “I know what I am to people right now. I knew something like this would happen when I stepped up to the Rift. I knew people would seek me out even if I was lucky to be alive. We both know why you’re here. So skip the seduction dance, Serephina, and be honest.”

For a moment—just one—something shifted in her face.

The flirtation slipped.

Underneath, I saw someone tired of masks and games. A hint of the pragmatic, ambitious girl who looked vaguely familiar.

She moved, sitting on the armrest opposite me, crossing her legs with an elegant motion. Too many people with nice legs in my life right now. Serephina’s voice was softer, losing its performative edge.

“…Fine.”

She met my gaze. “I came to hire you, Zane Myles. My father and I require an escort for several upcoming events—a bodyguard with your… capabilities. A date, if you will, to navigate certain social landscapes where my usual guards would be… problematic.”

My eyebrows shot up. Bodyguard/date? That was a new one.

“I know your financial situation,” Serephina continued, her voice dropping. “I also know what you truly want. Security for your siblings. Answers about your parents. Help for Jordan.”

My jaw tightened. She knew about our situation—that was to be expected—but about my parents too? Jordan? Just how connected was she?

“My father’s connections run deep in the Kingdom,” she pressed. “He is on the Queen’s Inner Council and was very close to the King before he died. My father can fast-track your weapon registration, secure you a spell license, and make sure your siblings can’t be used against you. I could promise you money, fame, and influence, but more than that—my father can arrange for the Medical Sage to examine Jordan personally.”

The name hit me like a blow. The Medical Sage, the legendary healer. A man almost a myth, rumored to cure even the most intractable mana sicknesses.

The Medical Sage… Jordan, the System Flu… a malady that caused Jordan so much pain…

I watched her. She smiled sweetly.

My response was measured. “I accompany you, and you get me a meeting with the Medical Sage. That is what you are offering?”

“Yep.”

My eyes narrowed.

“What aren’t you telling me?” My voice stayed even. “What are you really after?”

She hesitated—not a calculated pause, but a genuine falter. “I am not doing this out of kindness, of course… I’m interested in you.”

I blinked. “Interested in me?”

Her lips curved. “Not in the way you think.”

A spark lit her eyes, more challenge than flirtation. “I’m not going to go so far as to say that you are going to change the world or anything. But you fight like no one I’ve ever met. You bend mana like it’s an extension of your own body. The way you move… it’s poetic. Your sword. Your style. You can do things my father’s best instructors can’t. I want to know how.”

Her face turned sly. “And I think you’re cute.”

I rolled my eyes. “So I’m a curiosity.”

“You’re more than that.” Her voice dipped lower. “I’ve spent my life surrounded by people chasing titles, power, status… but you? You’re dangerous in ways the Tower can’t measure. And I need someone like that in my corner—for reasons I’m not ready to put in writing.”

I let the silence stretch. She didn’t fidget.

Finally, I said, “That’s a lot of words to say you want to hire me because I don’t scare easy.”

Her smile sharpened. “No, Zane Myles. I want to hire you because you might be the realest thing I have ever seen.”

“You’d better be careful how you phrase that; someone might mistake it for a proposal.”

I watched as a bit of color touched Serephina’s cheeks.

“I can’t say I’m totally opposed to that idea.”

From the kitchen, Jordan’s muffled voice erupted: “This is the best day of my LIFE!”

I sighed. “Jordan—”

“Let me live, Zane! That’s two confessions of love, brother! TWO!”

Serephina laughed again—unrestrained, bright enough to shake her shoulders.

“I know Aurelia beat me to the public offer,” she said, regaining a touch of poise. “I know the Capital’s watching you. I’m not trying to use you. I just… don’t want to be too late to throw my interest into the ring.”

I studied her, then nodded slowly. “You people act like I’m some foreign princess waiting to be auctioned off in a ceremonial alliance.”

Serephina tilted her head. “To be fair, your hair is magnificent, and you do have that brooding prince look down.”

From the kitchen, Jordan chimed in: “He does have protagonist hair!”

I groaned. “Jordan, shut up.”

“I’m building a shrine!”

Serephina grinned and rose, adjusting the hem of her jacket. She turned toward the door, heels clicking lightly against the stone.

At the threshold, she glanced back, violet eyes glinting. “You could still say yes, you know.”

I raised an eyebrow. “To what?”

Her voice dropped—low, playful. “To everything.”

Then she was gone. The door slid shut.

Jordan poked his head around the corner ten seconds later, grinning like a fool. “Brother.”

“No.”

“She sat on our couch. Her perfume is now in the air molecules.”

“No.”

“I’m naming my next spell-drone after her.”

I dropped my head into my hands.

And for the first time all week… I almost smiled.