The grand dining hall was dimly lit, the soft glow of enchanted lanterns flickering across walls lined with gold-threaded banners. The scent of roasted meat and spiced bread lingered in the air, accompanied by the faint murmur of servants moving like clockwork shadows between the long tables.
The five of them sat near the centre — the "divine heroes," as the palace liked to call them — a title that still made Nhilly smirk every time he heard it.
Celeste was halfway through laughing at one of Eli's exaggerated retellings of his sparring match, waving her fork for emphasis. "So you're saying he disappeared behind you? Just like that?"
Eli leaned back in his chair, grin wide. "One second, he's bleeding all over the floor, the next he's whispering 'I win' like some discount assassin. I mean—cool move, don't get me wrong—but c'mon." He glanced at Nhilly, who sat across from him. "That was dirty."
Nhilly took a slow sip from his cup. "You should've been paying attention, I told you not to blink."
Kael hid a small smirk behind his hand. "You left yourself open. Anyone with experience would've exploited it."
"Yeah, thanks, sensei," Eli muttered, stabbing a piece of bread.
Seris was quiet at first, eating neatly and methodically, but her gaze kept flicking toward Nhilly's sword resting against the wall behind him. The faint torchlight reflected off its obsidian surface, swallowing light rather than catching it.
Finally, she spoke. "Your weapon," she said, voice even. "It's not… normal."
Nhilly set his cup down. "Most swords here aren't."
"That's not what I meant." Her tone didn't rise, but her eyes sharpened. "That blade doesn't reflect light. It consumes it. I've only ever seen one material have inscriptions like that and that was a Relic."
Celeste looked between them, uneasy. "A Relic? That's… rare, right? Like one in a hundred million?"
Kael nodded slightly. "Rarer. Most of us have Common-class swords. Simple steel, easily replaced." He tapped the hilt of his own blade against the table. "Mine's nothing special. Light, efficient, built for speed. I'd assumed yours was maybe Tempered at most. But… it looks older. Different."
Eli's curiosity piqued immediately. "Wait, wait, there's a class system for swords too? I thought only Stars had that."
"They mirror each other in a way," Seris said softly. "Common, Tempered, Relic, Holy. The class determines how well it channels one's intent… and how heavy the burden of wielding it becomes."
Celeste leaned forward slightly. "So yours is…?"
"Tempered," Seris replied. "It's balanced between strength and control. Rare enough—but nothing extraordinary." She paused, glancing toward Nhilly again. "Yours, though if it truly is what I think, you shouldn't exist here."
Nhilly's gaze flicked up to meet hers. "You're assuming I exist at all."
Her expression faltered for a moment, then softened. "That sword of yours," she said quietly, "feels alive."
Nhilly said nothing, his eyes lowering to his untouched plate. The flickering light caught the faint red tint in Draco's engravings, and for a moment, it almost seemed to pulse.
Eli leaned across the table, still oblivious to the tension. "So, what, it's haunted or something?"
"Something like that," Nhilly said dryly. He tore off a piece of bread, uninterested. "It's a relic from a dead god, if you believe the stories."
Celeste blinked. "A god's sword? That's—"
"Not a god a constellation," Nhilly interrupted. "Or just someone who thought they were one."
The table went quiet.
Kael was the first to break the silence. "Well," he said, setting down his cup, "whatever it is, it's dangerous. I could feel it from across the courtyard. It's not just metal."
Nhilly gave a faint shrug. "Neither are any of us."
That shut them all up again.
For a while, only the clink of utensils filled the hall. The food was good — too good, like everything here. Perfectly seasoned, perfectly portioned, perfectly lifeless.
Eli was the first to shake off the silence. "Anyway," he said through a mouthful of meat, "I still think I could've beaten you if you didn't use that mist trick."
Nhilly didn't look up. "You can keep thinking that. It's good practice."
Seris's lips twitched — a tiny, almost invisible smile. Kael actually chuckled under his breath.
Even Celeste gave a soft laugh, shaking her head. "You two are going to kill each other one day."
Eli grinned. "Not unless I win first."
Nhilly's eyes finally lifted, meeting his across the table smiling. "That's a bold assumption."
Something in his tone made Eli falter, the grin slipping slightly. For a moment, the only sound was the crackling of the torches.
Then Celeste broke the tension again. "Alright, enough of that. Let's just… enjoy this meal, okay? For once."
They did — or at least, they tried.
But beneath the laughter, the easy talk, and the warm glow of the hall, Seris couldn't shake the image of Nhilly's sword in her mind — that impossible black steel, and the faint whisper she swore she heard when she looked at it too long.
When the others finally drifted off to rest, Nhilly stayed behind for a moment, alone at the table.
His hand brushed along the hilt of Draco's Shroud, tracing the familiar grooves. The blade pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat.
He exhaled.
You're drawing attention again, he thought...
He stood, slinging the sword over his shoulder, and left the hall in silence — the laughter of his companions fading behind him.