Huff!

The violet flames within the silver chalice dissolved into countless purple-feathered embers, scattering before fading into the cathedral air.

Xialda retrieved the pitch-black ring and approached Tiyi.

"Assassinating that woman won’t be easy—I know. But if anyone can do it, it’s you. Tiyi, you’re our best hope to fulfill this mission."

Xialda’s slender fingers cradled the ring as she offered it to Tiyi.

Outwardly calm, Tiyi reached for it. Inside, her soul churned like a storm-tossed sea on a tempestuous night.

*Finally. It’s mine.*

The sweat she’d poured, the relentless effort—all worth it. But how could the other witches fathom the months of soul-scourging she’d endured?

At last, she held what mattered most—not just to her, but to *him*.

*Him.*

Yes. One day, she might not just temporarily regain her true form—she might become *him* again, truly and permanently.

That pronoun—"he"—was a title she craved beyond words. To those who’d never lost themselves, its weight was unimaginable. To Tiyi, it meant honor forever out of reach. It meant reclaiming the self stolen from her.

As her slender fingers brushed the Nightshade Ring, darkness swallowed her vision. The world dissolved into an endless starless night.

*"Tiyi… Tiyi…"*

A woman’s voice echoed from unfathomable depths, thick with shadow.

"Tiyi?"

"Huh?"

For a fleeting moment, everything snapped back to normal. *Don’t drop it—don’t ruin this now.* Relief flooded her as her fingers closed firmly around the ring.

"Why do you keep zoning out? It’s dangerous," Dilovei chided beside her.

"...I know."

"Hmm?" Dilovei tilted her head, studying Tiyi with quiet scrutiny.

Ignoring the ceremony, Xialda stepped close. Her congratulatory embrace pressed their soft curves together as she whispered into Tiyi’s ear: "I know you’re stronger than you showed today. But Qingruo Redvini—the Empire’s prodigy—won’t fall easily. If you lack absolute certainty, don’t rush. Sometimes… feminine wiles work better on her. You understand, don’t you?"

Tiyi couldn’t pull away under the witches’ watchful eyes. Heat flared in her ears. *Feminine wiles?* She wouldn’t—*couldn’t*—know such things!

Was this the backup plan? Seduce the Lady Templar Knight? Break her vow of lifelong chastity, strip her power, then strike?

But this shameless, big-chested witch—what was she even suggesting? Even if Tiyi *would* harm Qingruo (which she never would), both were women. Did Xialda pretend not to know how absurd that was?

*How do women seduce women?*

*Ridiculous.*

Still—her true goal was achieved. She’d endure these trivialities. For the younger witches’ sake, she’d play along.

"I… understand. Thank you for the warning, Chief Witch Xialda. I’ll… act as opportunities arise." Tiyi’s cheeks burned with the hollow words.

*Act as opportunities arise?* As if she’d ever seduce Qingruo!

*Impossible.*

*She* was the one who’d shattered his heart when he was still a boy—the one whose love had doomed him to this cursed existence. Tiyi mourned that loss, yet never regretted it.

She repented, but did not regret.

And she’d never assassinate her.

*Later. Stall until I reach the Holy Academy. Then decide.*

One worry lingered: Selys. She wouldn’t let Tiyi go easily. Yet she hadn’t appeared. Had she been forced to leave? Or was she plotting something new?

Tiyi had feared Selys would crash the ring ceremony—ruining everything. So she’d gambled.

The ring’s placement decided it. If Selys planned to return during the trials, why lock the ring in the chalice under forbidden spells? Why teach Xialda how to break them? Such a treasure deserved a personal handover.

*Selys couldn’t attend. I was right.*

But where had she gone? One day, after reclaiming herself, Tiyi would find her. And settle the score.

Beneath the moonstone—a deep, vast crystal like solidified night—Tiyi knelt again before the shrine of the Goddess of Night.

She hated lying. But she had to swear this oath.

"Goddess of Night, Enlightener of Witches… I, Alandiye, vow to wield your gift wisely. I will send that woman… to where she truly belongs." A cold, bitter smile twisted Tiyi’s lips.

True killers never boast their targets. Her voice dripped with night-chilled menace—a genuine threat.

Yet beneath it thrummed longing. She forced her tone icier still, hiding the tremor no one noticed.

"Tiyi-nee… please come back safe. No matter what happens…" Yoreya prayed fervently from below.

These witches—fugitives, outcasts—had grown close in hiding. They knew Tiyi must face the world; witches could hide no longer. Yet each feared for her safety even as they hoped for her success. Only their shared fate, their scars, kept despair at bay.

…

Second-floor dormitory, Underground Witch Church.

"Tiyi-nee! I packed everything for your mission!" Yoreya strained to carry a large, worn yet elegant leather trunk toward Tiyi’s bunk bed.

"Leaving tonight?" Qina’s voice cracked with sorrow.

"Mm." Tiyi nodded, dressed in her signature blue-and-white corseted gown with pleated trim, black stockings, and boots.

Lusha, Philine, Yseis—all stayed awake to see her off.

"Tiyi. Time to go." Dilovei emerged from her room, ice-blue eyes fixed on her.

"Mm." The moment had come. Freedom. Her path back to herself. Yet a bittersweet ache swelled in Tiyi’s chest.

Heretic or witch—these months had woven bonds she hadn’t expected. Leaving felt like tearing out roots.

"I’m… going." Tiyi nodded firmly, afraid her voice would betray her if she spoke more.

"Tiyi-nee, be careful," Yoreya pleaded, clutching the white lace cuff of her sleeve.

"Promise you’ll return safely," Qina murmured, turning away as her cheeks flushed pink.

"Alandiye," Yseis said, adjusting her single golden spectacle with scholarly grace, "outside, we wear masks. But here—this is your home. *Our* home."

Lusha and Philine bit their lips. Even tomboyish Lusha’s eyes glistened—they’d been humbled in spars, jealous of Tiyi once, even played pranks on her…

"The carriage should be waiting," Dilovei murmured, glancing toward the cathedral’s vaulted ceiling.

"Mm." Tiyi hefted the trunk. Her gothic gown, edged in cloud-white lace, swirled around her waist as she turned.

Candle flames flickered along the dim second-floor corridor. Tiyi walked away, trunk in hand, gown whispering against stone—Dilovei trailing silently behind.