A new assignment board went up that morning.
Just outside the Tower Gate, etched with silver glyphs and shifting names. Dozens of missions—gathering, guarding, subduing… and three names listed together for one task:
> Greenbottle, Lyle
Ravyn, Juno
Valen Stride
Lyle stared at the third name.
So did half the crowd.
Valen Stride wasn't just a top-tier cadet.
He was famous inside the Academy.
Descendant of the old line of Diviners.
Handpicked by the Council for special Tier-4 approval.
And—according to rumor—so powerful his mana could unravel lesser spell formations just by proximity.
And now he was being inserted into their dynamic.
Juno appeared beside Lyle a few seconds later, her mouth already tense.
"They're not even hiding it," she muttered.
"No," Lyle said. "They want to see what happens when the knife smiles first."
---
The briefing was held in one of the upper towers—normally reserved for diplomatic visitors and high-value tests. The room was too clean, too polished.
Valen stood at the center like he already owned it.
Tall. Poised. With an easy smile and eyes that flicked over both of them like they were already solved puzzles.
"Greenbottle. Ravyn. It's an honor."
His voice was smooth.
Sincere.
Almost too much of both.
"We'll be working together on a reconnaissance-cleansing mission. Minor rift anomaly. Routine work."
He smiled wider.
"But nothing's routine with you two, is it?"
Lyle didn't smile.
Juno didn't blink.
Valen laughed like they were old friends.
---
The mission began that evening.
The terrain: a storm-broken plateau three kilometers from Academy grounds, where an old watchpoint shimmered with unstable energy.
Their job: stabilize the anomaly, identify any residual effects, and return clean readings.
Valen took point immediately.
Fast. Precise. Technically flawless.
And charming.
He complimented Juno's spell layering. Matched her stride. Even made jokes Lyle couldn't tell were flirtation or field banter.
> He's good, Lyle thought.
Too good.
Worse than open hostility.
He wasn't trying to break them.
He was trying to replace one half of the pair.
And he was making her laugh.
Lyle had never heard her laugh like that.
Not with him.
Not even when they'd nearly died together.
---
That night, they made camp in a cleared circle of trees.
Juno slept light, near the perimeter.
Valen sat beside Lyle with a soft grin, poking the fire with a rune-etched stick.
"She's strong," he said casually.
Lyle didn't respond.
"Not just in battle. In restraint. That's rare. You don't often see it in bond-linked pairs—one of them usually burns too bright."
Still no response.
Valen turned his eyes toward Lyle.
"I'm not here to tear you apart, you know. I'm here to see if she'll walk away on her own."
Lyle's hand twitched slightly.
Not enough to be seen.
But the Codex pulsed gently against his ribs:
> [Hostile Intent: Masked – Threat Level: Gray]
Warning: Third party assigned to destabilize connection. Avoid direct confrontation.
Let her choose.
Lyle stood up slowly, brushing off dirt.
"You're good at manipulation," he said.
Valen smiled.
"I'm good at reading people."
"No," Lyle said. "You're good at convincing them you're the safe option."
Valen looked up, smile dimming slightly. "And you're not?"
"I'm not pretending to be."
---
The next morning, Juno approached Lyle quietly.
"I couldn't sleep."
He raised a brow. "Valen's storytime not soothing enough?"
She smirked.
"No. It was too perfect."
She looked up at him—eyes clear. Sharp.
"Tell me something honest."
Lyle nodded once.
"I hate the way he makes you laugh."
That surprised her.
Then—slowly—she smiled.
"Good. Because I only did it to see if you'd say that."