Chapter 920: Begin (2)

Asher snorted. "Your wolf has more attitude than half the year."

"He is still better organized."

"That is not a high standard."

Liam turned away from the hunting party before their leader discussion began properly. They could solve that among themselves. If they could not choose a leader in the next few minutes, Smoke choosing for them would become a useful lesson.

He started toward the southern gate. Asher followed, and Celia moved with them after a moment.

"Wait," Celia said.

Liam stopped and turned. Asher looked back with impatience already on his face.

Celia stood a few paces behind them, posture straight, expression controlled. "Why was I added to the task group?"

"The commander wanted you to join," Liam said.

"That is not what I asked."

"No. But it is true."

Her mouth tightened slightly.

Liam answered the actual question before she could decide whether to press harder. "You are one of the smarter students available. Your resonance with Myst may be useful in locating the anchors or handling complications with activation. You are also capable enough as support, fighter, and healer to be worth bringing."

Celia studied him with a calm that looked too carefully placed. "I doubt I can keep up with your pace or Asher’s. I am also not certain I will be needed."

Her tone remained respectful. Thoughtful, even.

Liam did not trust it.

Small details stood out more than her words. The slight tension at the corner of her mouth. The way her gaze met his, then left too quickly before returning with deliberate control. The politeness felt prepared, not natural. Not fear. Not simple doubt. Something held back behind the wording, and if they were about to step outside Veyrhold with six hours ticking over their heads, he had no interest in carrying unspoken hostility like extra weight.

He stayed silent long enough for the pause to become uncomfortable.

Then he said, "Is there something you want to get off your chest before this anchor scavenger hunt starts?"

Celia’s eyes sharpened.

"If there is," Liam continued, "I would appreciate hearing it now. Once we leave Veyrhold, my patience and tolerance will not be the same."

Asher turned fully toward them now, attention caught.

Celia held Liam’s gaze for a moment, but not as long as she seemed to want. Her eyes shifted aside, then returned with the politeness stripped away. When she spoke, her voice was still controlled, but the distaste inside it was clear.

"I do not like you," she said. "Not one bit. And it angers me that I have to listen to your orders for the next six hours."

The nearby hunting volunteers, who had nearly finished their hurried leader discussion, went quiet at once. Smoke’s four eyes shifted toward Celia. Asher’s brows lifted.

"Well," Asher said. "Disliking the shadow bastard is not special. Join the line and move faster."

Liam did not answer immediately.

Celia seemed to brace for anger, or cold threat, or perhaps the kind of dark-mage reaction Crescent stories had taught her to expect. She received none of those. Liam only looked at her with the same calm irritation he gave bad weather, weak excuses, and people blocking doorways.

"I appreciate the honesty," he said. "But I do not care in the slightest."

Celia’s expression flickered.

"You are Crescentian," Liam continued. "I am a dark mage. If that is reason enough for you not to like me, that is your business. It does not bother me. Your feelings do not get to affect the task, the group’s progress, or anyone’s survival. If your dislike causes hesitation, interference, or failure outside the walls, whatever follows will be yours to carry."

Celia did not answer.

Her eyes lowered for a brief second, then shifted away. She did not apologize. Liam had not asked for one. Silence, in this case, was enough understanding to continue.

"As for keeping up," Liam said, "you can ride Raven."

The shadow beneath him stirred again.

Raven emerged with smoother grace than Smoke, her form unfolding low and sleek before rising into something large enough to carry a rider. She was smaller than Smoke but still powerful, her body shaped with the predatory muscle of a jaguar and the dark elegance of a raven. Shadow-feathered ridges flowed along her neck and shoulders, while her tail moved like black smoke edged in faint talon-like wisps. Her head carried a feline sharpness softened by raven-like angles, and her eyes held a bright, intelligent displeasure the moment they settled on Celia.

Celia recoiled before she could fully hide it. "I am not being carried by some disgusting creature made of curse Myst."

The courtyard around them became dangerously quiet again.

Raven’s eyes narrowed.

Smoke’s ears lifted.

Asher’s grin widened. "Oh, she said that out loud."

Liam looked at Celia for a long moment, then at Raven. "If Raven had her way, she would not allow you on her back either."

Celia’s lips parted slightly, anger rising again.

"After what you just said," Liam continued, voice dry enough to cut stone, "she does not approve of you much. With that attitude, she will likely hold a grudge for a while. But Raven has no choice because I ordered her to help. You have no choice because Sheila ordered you to join the task. Accept the help or refuse and keep up with me and Asher by yourself."

Raven looked at Celia as if the second option would be preferable.

Very preferable.

Celia stared at Liam. Then at Raven. Then back at Liam. Her jaw tightened. Finally, she clicked her tongue and looked away.

"Fine."

"Wise," Asher said. "Barely."

Liam turned to Raven. "Keep her safe. If danger is confirmed, protect her."

Raven’s head angled toward him with visible offense, as if asking why she was being punished for Celia’s personality.

"Do it," Liam said.

Raven huffed soundlessly, shadow rippling along her shoulders, then lowered herself just enough to make mounting possible without making it gracious.

Celia looked like she would rather fight the western anchor barehanded than climb onto Raven’s back, but she did it. The movement was stiff and resentful. Raven remained still, though the look she gave Liam suggested she was making a list of grievances.

Liam turned toward the hunting party. They had chosen the broad-shouldered spear user as leader, likely because he had spoken first and because Smoke had stared at him until leadership became easier than hesitation.

"What is your name?" Liam asked.

"Garron Vale," the spear user answered quickly.

"You lead the hunting group until I say otherwise. Stay within the limits I give. Listen to Smoke’s warnings. If he blocks your path, do not argue."

Garron swallowed. "Understood."

The task screen above the courtyard shifted.

The preparation timer reached its final seconds, then dissolved.

A new timer appeared.

06:00:00.

The first second fell away.

05:59:59.

The task had begun.

The courtyard seemed to feel it all at once. Work elsewhere resumed with sharper urgency. Students moved faster toward the central-structure teams. Chris’s perimeter group turned toward the outer route. Felix recorded the time. Sheila watched from near the command point, her eyes passing over Liam, Asher, Celia on Raven, Smoke beside the hunting party, and the volunteers who now looked much more aware that they were leaving the walls.

Liam faced the southern gate.

"Ready or not," he said, "we move."

Asher rolled his shoulders, blue eyes bright with the promise of motion and danger. Celia said nothing from Raven’s back, her expression controlled and unhappy. Smoke stepped beside the hunters, massive and silent. Raven rose beneath her unwilling rider with clear distaste.

The group was tense, imperfect, and already full of friction.

But the countdown had started, and personal issues no longer mattered.

Liam walked toward the gate, and the task team followed.