The teleportation circle collapsed after the light drained from the runes that were carved into the wooden floor of a modest inn room.
As an escape plan, they had this circle created in advance and had rented the room for two weeks so that no one would enter the room without permission.
They could've set up the circle anywhere else but Amadore felt that it was best to set it up here due to how utterly unremarkable the place was.
An inn was transient by nature. People came and went daily, paid in coins. The workers asked no questions other than how long they planned on staying and remembered even less. Only with permission were rooms cleaned and linens changed during the customer's stay.
A place like this was invisible.
No one would suspect that a room with creaking floorboards, cheap furniture, and thin walls could serve as an emergency return point for members of the Fallen Choir.
Amadore believed that the most secure hiding place was one no one thought worth guarding.
As the runes vanished, leaving behind only the faint scent of magic, for a brief moment in the room, the only sound was heavy breathing.
The three members of the Fallen Choir were standing around, looking a little dazed.
The room had two beds, a small table, and curtains that were drawn tight.
Boing~.
Coco was the first to move. She staggered a step forward and collapsed onto one of the beds. Her breathing was fast, not from physical exhaustion but because of the overstimulation of using her star abilities over and over.
She had produced a lot of noise, mainly screaming, as people died left and right at her hands.
The next to move was Sesto, who transformed back into his human form. He then pulled out a fragment of a silver spearhead that had stabbed him. As he tossed it aside, smoke curled out from the wound that slowly began to heal itself.
He snarled, "Tch. Damn bastards using silver blessed with holy water."
The best weapon to use against werewolves. How did they have it prepared so soon?
Amadore straightened his coat and glasses as he took a seat on the edge of the other bed that Coco wasn't on.
"How many starwalkers were there?" Sesto growled. "Don't tell me that amount is normal? All of them were so strong."
Flipping around, Coco stared up at the ceiling and nodded slowly, agreeing with what he said. Images of families being torn apart were flashing in her mind.
Trying to distract herself from the images, she added, "We've spent over a week preparing and yet they responded so quickly. It's like they were already in position to defend the city."
Her eyes glanced over to Amadore.
"Conductor, I thought they weren't supposed to be prepared. Wasn't the purpose of attacking the capital city not just because it's the capital but also because it's the last place anyone would expect to be attacked?"
They were supposed to cause panic and wreak havoc before anyone could organise.
Setting the baton down gently by his side, Amadore said calmly, "Don't worry. We succeeded in our task. You saw the damage. It speaks for itself."
"But we were supposed to do more. That's barely as much damage as we had planned," Sesto said as he took a seat on the tabletop. "We were forced to retreat earlier."
Sitting up, Coco said, "...It's like… it felt like they were waiting for us. I don't know how else to describe it."
Sesto ran his fingers through his silver-grey hair. Each finger of his had a ring on it.
"You think there's a mole?" he asked the young girl.
The word "mole" caused the mood in the room to flip.
Amadore didn't even hesitate to respond, "No."
His voice was firm and it immediately cut the thought at the root before it could fester and grow into something worse.
"All members of the Fallen Choir are loyal," he continued evenly. "To the cause. To our home. To each other. That is not negotiable."
Sesto clicked his tongue but didn't argue. He agreed with the statement. It's just that the way everything played out created doubt in his mind for a brief moment.
"Then what?" Coco asked. She trusted Amadore's words but was more sceptical than the two. "Because coincidence only explains so much."
Amadore considered this.
"Valdonia City is a capital that prides itself on strength," he said. "It hosts academies, orders, nobles, and relics. It is possible they simply had more forces nearby than we anticipated."
"That's likely the case," Sesto muttered. "Annoying." He closed his eyes, ready to take a nap even though he was sitting.
"Regardless," Amadore said, "the outcome is acceptable."
Coco turned her eyes to him.
"The people of Valdonia will be afraid," he continued. "The feeling of absolute safety in their country has been shattered. That was our main objective."
He picked the baton back up.
"And now the country will do exactly what we want."
Coco uttered, "…Focus everything on the capital in anticipation of another attack."
"Correct."
He tapped the baton once against the half-blood werewolf, telling him to wake up as he could see that he was about to fall asleep.
"Which leaves the rest of the nation more vulnerable as they bring more aid to the capital."
Amadore slowly grinned.
"The academies."
"Yes," Amadore responded to Coco. "By now, the other members we've sent throughout the country should have finished laying the demon summoning circles. When the gates open at the same time, chaos will spread far beyond the capital's reach."
Coco's eyes widened slightly as she imagined all of the deaths. The cries of the students. The death of the youths who are the future of the country.
"When the demons arrive, all hands will be focused on saving the students. Every order. Every elite starwalker. The noble families will hurry to save their children."
A pause came after that.
Then he resumed, "And while they are busy trying to save lives…"
Sesto chuckled lowly.
"We reclaim what has been taken from us."
Coco swallowed. "Our national treasure." It was something that she had never seen before. She's only heard tales of it from the older members. She wasn't even born when their country was destroyed.
"The museum," Amadore confirmed.
The room seemed colder all of a sudden.
"Our relic," Coco said quietly. "The one taken during the Iron March."
"Yes," he said softly. "The symbol of our humiliation. Locked behind glass. Paraded as proof of their victory."
* * *
The classroom was quiet.
Because it was lunchtime, this particular classroom was empty. No chatter of students. No lecture was being conducted by a teacher. There weren't even footsteps in the hallway nearby.
The only sound in the room was the faint hum of the sunlight poking through the closed shades.
Diana stood near the teacher's desk, her arms crossed as she stared up at the clock.
Once the door finally opened, she looked down to see Bell.
"We agreed on three minutes," she muttered.
"I had to shake off someone," Bell replied calmly. He was referring to Ollie, the future minor villain, who was refusing to let Bell cut him off as friends.
Clicking her tongue, Diana was a little irritated by the delay, but she gestured for him to step closer anyway.
She'd told Peneri and her other friends that she needed the bathroom. It was a light lie, but it was strange how easily the words slipped out of her mouth.
hat bothered her more than she wanted to admit.
The longer it took to finish this, the more embarrassing it would be for her to return as the image of what she was doing in the bathroom would be planted in her friends' minds.
When Bell stopped in front of her, her eyes were fixed anywhere but his face.
"…Same rules," she said.
"Same rules like always," Bell agreed.
Standing up on her tippytoes, she wrapped her arms around him without hesitation. The moment her fingers were wrapped around each other, the hunger in her surged as her meal was now in front of her.
Her breath sped up due to the smell of his blood.
She hated that part most of all.
She leaned in and bit. There was no resistance like always.
The blood flowed warm and smooth, flooding her mouth in a way that made her knees soften instantly. The taste was overwhelming: it was sweet and rich, layered with flavours that she couldn't describe.
Her shoulders loosened and her thoughts blurred as she pulled more and more blood out of his neck.
It was perfect. Too perfect.
She drank in steady pulls, eyes half-lidded, fingers curling tighter as the ache inside her got quieter and quieter as she filled up her stomach.
The noise in her head dimmed until it was nothing but a distant echo.
'This is it,' a traitorous part of her thought. 'This is the best feeling in the world.'
As her body relaxed, her breathing began to slow down to its original pace.
And in that moment, right as the hunger was quenched, clarity snapped back into place like ice cracking over water.
'No.' It wasn't the best feeling. It was the second best. The best feeling would be the one she feels once she kills him.
Her jaw tightened around the bite as rage surged.
'Now.'
With her arms behind him, a dagger made of ice formed silently. It hovered at his back, aimed precisely where his heart should be.
At the same moment she retracted her fangs from his flesh, she pulled the dagger towards him.
It passed straight through him. Then her arm was repelled, shot back to where it came from.
Diana stumbled back, her eyes glaring at him.
Bell asked as he wiped the blood that was trickling towards his chest, "Have you had your fill?"
Blood staining her lips, she used a handkerchief she kept on her to wipe the blood away as well. She waved her hand, and the dagger vanished.
"Tch," she spat as she put her handkerchief back into her pocket. "Yeah. I'm full."
She glared at him, rage still burning in her red eyes.
"Don't get comfortable," she said coldly. "One day, you won't be able to dodge in time."
Bell met her gaze, expression unreadable.
"I wouldn't expect you to stop trying."
Diana looked up at the clock and calculated how much time she had left to eat with her friends. Sturned sharply toward the door.
"…See you later, bastard," she said without looking back.
"...Yeah."
She left before the lingering taste of his blood in her mouth, the one that had filled her stomach up, could betray how badly she wanted to kill him.