Nox traced sigil patterns in the dust with perfect precision. Her fingers moved like mine had moments before, copying each gesture exactly. She couldn't read the spellbooks, but she understood the magic.
Morning light filtered through a crack in the undercroft ceiling. My hidden sanctuary had become our sanctuary. Broken stones served as chairs. Old academy records made decent bedding. The stone altar held my growing collection of forbidden texts.
She crouched beside me, silent as always. When I turned pages, she watched intently. When I practiced hand movements, she mirrored them without conscious thought. Her attention never wavered.
Three days since the rescue. Three days of sharing space with someone who understood abandonment.
I closed the tome on theoretical inversion. "Hungry?"
She nodded. Pointed at the passage leading to abandoned storage rooms where I kept food supplies.
Our shared meals happened in comfortable silence. Stolen bread and preserved meat divided equally. She'd brought gifts yesterday, some smooth stones arranged in patterns, wild flowers from hidden courtyards, a piece of broken crystal that caught light beautifully.
Trust building through small actions.
When I left for classes, she guarded my belongings. When I returned, she'd organized my notes or repaired damaged equipment. Her movements were predatory. Like a blade that had learned to live.
Through our soulbond, emotional echoes flowed both ways. I caught fragments of her memories. She absorbed pieces of my pain.
The connection made everything more bearable.
Last night, the sharing had gone deeper. Lying on makeshift beds, guards down, the bond opened like a floodgate.
I saw a bright white room with restraining chairs. Handlers in masks discussing "asset optimization" like she was equipment. Other subjects who hadn't survived the testing phases.
Asset 13. That's what they'd called her.
The laboratories of Project Eclipsera existed in a realm beyond normal cruelty. Systematic torture disguised as research. They'd experimented on her voice first, some magical procedures that severed her ability to speak, scream, or call for help.
Then came personality reconstruction. Breaking her will through calculated pain, rebuilding it to serve imperial needs. Combat conditioning that associated survival with obedience.
She'd endured years of this. Never broke. Never submitted completely.
When the project was deemed a failure, disposal orders came down. Too unstable for field deployment. Too dangerous to release. The academy's request for training targets had been their compromise.
Use the failed experiment one last time.
My rage at the systematic cruelty burned cold and steady. Recognition of shared abandonment created understanding that went beyond words. She'd been discarded by those who'd created her. I'd been left to die by those I'd served.
Protective instincts awakened that I hadn't felt since Caelum Thorne died in that corridor.
"They'll never touch you again," I'd whispered in the darkness.
She'd placed her hand on my arm. Squeezed once. Message received.
———
Training began the next morning.
Nox's natural fighting skills were extraordinary. Silent takedown techniques perfected through necessity. She could read combat patterns in ways that defied explanation, what she called "battle threads" in our limited sign language.
Invisible lines of movement intention that wrapped around people during conflict. She saw where attacks would come before they happened.
I refined her instincts systematically. Taught her to trust the supernatural perception while adding tactical thinking. She learned fast. Everything was survival to her.
"Defense drill," I said. "Three attackers from different angles."
She closed her eyes. Breathed deeply. When I launched practice spells from multiple directions, she flowed between them like water. Never where the magic expected her to be.
The battle threads guided her movements perfectly.
But combat skill wouldn't keep her safe in the academy. She needed camouflage.
I crafted an aura-masking charm that altered her demonic signature. Made her magical presence read as human student rather than experimental weapon. The disguise wouldn't fool detailed examination, but it would pass casual scans.
"Practice walking like them," I instructed.
She mimicked the posture of academy students. Shoulders slightly hunched. Eyes downcast. The body language of broken spirits and crushed dreams.
Perfect camouflage.
Backup identities required more work. Forged permits claiming she was my cousin from the borderlands. Throat damaged in raider attacks. Temporary guest status while recovering from trauma.
The lies came easier each time.
Communication developed through necessity. Simple hand signals for immediate needs. Written notes for complex ideas. But the emotional bond supplemented words in ways that felt natural.
She understood my intentions before I spoke them. I sensed her concerns without explanation.
Trust absolute.
———
Academy integration started carefully.
Nox observed classes from shadows, learning to move through the institution unseen. She mapped patrol routes and schedules with mechanical precision. Identified threats and allies through behavior patterns I'd never noticed.
Her intelligence gathering proved invaluable. Guard rotations. Faculty meeting times. Which professors showed kindness versus cruelty. Information that helped me navigate the political landscape.
When Elya encountered us in the corridor, I held my breath.
"Who's your friend?" she asked.
I'd prepared for this moment. "Cousin from the borderlands. Throat injury from raids. Can't speak."
Elya's expression softened immediately. "I'm sorry. The war's been brutal."
Nox nodded gravely. Played the traumatized refugee perfectly.
No further questions. Elya accepted the explanation without suspicion.
Ryn and Lute welcomed a third outcast naturally. The underground network was growing, bound by shared experience of the academy's casual cruelty.
But surveillance pressure was intensifying.
Ardyn's eye runes patrolled more frequently. Magical signature scans had tripled. Faculty meetings happened behind closed doors with privacy wards engaged.
The net was tightening around anomalies.
I layered protection wards around our hideout. False trails and misdirection to confuse tracking spells. Nox helped spot watchers with her supernatural perception.
Paranoia became a survival skill.
Yet despite the growing danger, something fundamental had changed. Protecting others gave my existence meaning beyond revenge. I was no longer just seeking to destroy what had abandoned me.
I was building something worth defending.
Nox represented hope beyond anger. Our bond proved that connection could exist without exploitation. That loyalty could be earned through kindness instead of forced through control.
The Empire had tried to create a weapon. Instead, they'd given me family.
———
Late that night, Professor Ardyn sat in his office reviewing accumulated surveillance data. Months of footage filled crystal displays. Behavioral patterns, magical signatures, social interactions.
All pointing toward an impossible conclusion.
He cross-referenced current observations with old files. Hero's Party records from the Demon Spire campaign. Missing persons reports marked as "casualties of noble sacrifice."
One name kept appearing in his analysis.
The projection showed freeze-frame images of my face from various angles. Academy identification photos. Arena footage. Candid surveillance captures.
Ardyn enhanced the resolution around my eyes. Compared them to archived images from imperial databases.
Recognition dawned slowly.
"I know those eyes."
He pulled up a five-year-old file. Support mage assigned to Valen's expedition. Listed as missing, presumed dead. Body never recovered.
The facial recognition software confirmed what his instincts already knew.
He marked the file with red priority flags.
"Caelum Thorne."