“Your Majesty, she is a threat.” Lady Lovette’s voice rang through the small council chamber, thin but sharp.
 Emperor Priam Endymion, forty-two years old, did not react at once. He sat at the head of the long table, fingers steepled, his cold gaze fixed on the woman who had just spoken.
 To his right, Empress Ariadne, in her late thirties, watched with calm, measuring eyes. To his left sat High Chancellor Varian Hale, fifty-two, with silver at his temples and a steady, unreadable face.
 Farther down, leaning back with lazy arrogance, was Lord Cassian Varest, seventeen.
 Eryx Endymion stood against the wall, arms crossed, silent.
 Priam finally spoke. “Explain yourself, Lady Lovette.” Lovette sighed. Her usually strict composure wavered. 
 “Your Majesty, I performed the standard core evaluation on Princess Alessia, as ordered. The crystal sphere responded in a way I have never seen before.”
 Varian’s brows drew together slightly. “In what way?”
 “First, there was a Lux response,” she said. “Weak, but clear. Expected, given her lineage.”
 Cassian snorted softly. “Weak suits her.”
 “Then,” Lovette continued, ignoring him, “a Caligo response followed. Strong. Violent. Both present at once. The sphere could not stabilize the reading. It cracked.” She took a breath. “Then shattered.”
 Everyone became silent. Priam’s eyes narrowed. “Lux and Caligo… together?”
 “That is impossible,” Master Darius said from the far side of the table. At sixty, with a long gray beard and deep lines on his face, he looked like he had grown up with the palace walls themselves. “Light and Dark cannot coexist in one core. They cancel each other.”
 “They did not cancel,” Lovette insisted. “They clashed and fought. The energy backlash destroyed the instrument.”
 Ariadne tilted her head. “Could it be an error in the device?”
 “I have used that crystal sphere for ten years, Your Majesty,” Lovette said. “It has never once failed. And I felt it. I felt two separate pulses inside her. One warm, one cold.” 
 She wrapped her arms around herself, as if remembering the shock. “I tell you this is not as gossip, but as a scholar. Whatever is inside the Princess is not normal.”
 Cassian’s lips curled. “I told you she was wrong from the moment she opened her mouth in court,” he said. “Now we know she’s not just useless—she’s unstable.”
 Eryx pushed off the wall. “Careful, Cassian,” he said, warning in his voice. “You speak of the Emperor’s blood.”
 Cassian smiled without warmth. “I speak of danger, Your Highness. The Princess fell from a cliff and survived. Now her core breaks instruments. If that is not a threat, what is?”
 Priam’s gaze slid to Eryx. “You were present when she was recovered,” Priam said. “Did you sense anything unusual then?”
 Eryx hesitated. “At the time, her core felt faint,” he said. “Barely there. I thought she was dying.” He paused. “Now… something has changed.”
 “Changed how?” Ariadne asked softly.
 Eryx met his father’s gaze. “She feels stronger,” he said. “Not like before the fall. She became different like someone who has decided not to bow.”
 Cassian rolled his eyes. “We are talking about her magic, not her attitude.”
 “The two are not always separate,” Varian murmured.
 Priam leaned back in his chair. “Master Darius. In theory, is a dual-element core possible?”
 Darius grimaced. “In old texts, there are myths of Luminous anomalies. Children born with strange cores who either died young or…” He hesitated. “Or caused disasters.”
 Ariadne’s eyes sharpened. “Disasters?”
 “One child,” Darius said slowly, “was said to have drawn both Fire and Wind into his core. He burned a village to the ground by accident at age ten. His core consumed him soon after.”
 Cassian’s smirk returned. “Comforting.”
 “But Lux and Caligo together…” Darius shook his head. “There is no record of such a thing. Light and Dark are base forces. They are opposites. If they do exist in her, they could either balance…” He glanced around. “Or destroy her. And perhaps more.”
 Lovette bowed again.“That is why I say she is a threat, Your Majesty,” she finished. “The Princess’s state is unstable. She is dangerous. We cannot predict what she will do.”
 Varian folded his hands. “Whether she is unstable or not,” he said calmly, “she is also your daughter. Killing her would cause unrest. Hiding her would raise questions and ignoring her would be foolish.”
 Priam’s jaw tightened. He remembered Alessia as a child—crying, clinging, loud. Then as a young girl—angry, defiant, causing trouble with her sharp tongue and wild emotions.
 Now she had returned with clear eyes and a quiet, strange strength and a core that broke instruments.
 Ariadne finally spoke. “Then we must watch her,” she said. “Not just for danger, but for potential.”
 Cassian frowned. “Potential?”
 “If she truly holds both Lux and Caligo,” Ariadne said, “and if she survives…” Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “She could become either our greatest weapon or our greatest enemy.”
 “Which makes her a threat,” Lovette insisted.
 “A threat we might use,” Varian added.
 Eryx clenched his teeth.“Alessia is not a tool,” he said. “She is—”
 “A problem,” Cassian cut in. “A living, breathing problem.”
 Priam raised a hand.“Enough,” he said softly.
 The room quieted. He stared at the polished table for a moment, thinking, then looked at Darius.
 “Can you design a safer test?” Priam asked. “Something that can handle whatever she has inside her?”
 Darius nodded slowly. “Given the time and resources.”
 “You have both,” Priam said. “Begin at once. I want to know exactly what kind of core my daughter carries.” 
 He turned to Varian. “In the meantime, increase discreet surveillance around her chambers,” he ordered. “I want reports on everyone who enters or leaves.”
 Varian bowed. “At once, Your Majesty.” Priam’s gaze hardened. “And if she loses control,” he said, “I want to know before anyone else does.”
 Eryx stepped forward. “Father—”
 Priam cut him off with a look. “You asked me once to protect her,” Priam said. “This is how I will do it not with soft words but, with preparation.”
 Eryx’s jaw worked, but he said nothing. Priam looked back at Lovette. “Do not speak of this to anyone beyond this room,” he said. “If rumors spread about Light and Dark, panic will follow. You will answer to me.”
 Lovette paled. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
 “Dismissed,” Priam said.
 One by one, they bowed and left. Eryx lingered. Priam did not look at him.
 “You wish to say something,” Priam said.
 Eryx exhaled. “Alessia has changed.”
 “So I am told,” Priam replied. “Perhaps death taught her what life did not.”
 Eryx hesitated. “She is trying. Harder than before.”
 Priam’s eyes cooled. “Trying does not erase the danger she poses.”
 “She’s sixteen,” Eryx said quietly. “And she is alone.”
 Priam finally looked at him. “So were you, once.” Eryx flinched.
 Priam’s voice lost what little warmth it had. “Train her in whatever ways you see fit,” he said. “Safely and quietly but do not let your feelings blind you, Eryx. If she becomes a threat to the Empire…” He trailed off. He didn’t need to finish.
 Eryx knew the rest. He bowed his head. “I understand,” he said. “But I won’t let it come to that.”
 Meanwhile, “Again.” Kael’s voice was calm but firm.
 Alessia stood in a small, hidden courtyard behind one of the older palace wings. The stone walls were covered in pale vines. No guards were posted here. No servants passed through.
 Seraphine had led her here at dawn, saying only, “This is where he trains those the court doesn’t need to see.”
 Now Alessia faced Kael, her palms open, her heart pounding.
 “What if I break something again?” she asked, breathless.
 Kael tilted his head slightly. He moved like someone who had fought many battles and survived every one of them.
 “That crystal shattered because it was weak,” he said. “You are not.”
 “That’s not what the palace thinks,” she muttered.
 “Then stop letting the palace define you,” Kael said simply. “Now, focus.”
 Alessia inhaled.
 “Close your eyes,” he instructed. “Feel your core not your fear nor with their words. Just you.” She closed her eyes.
 Darkness behind her lids. Silence. Then, she felt it. Warmth, pulsing softly near her heart. Gentle and seady like the first rays of morning. It was Lux.
 Then a second pulse. Cool and deep. Heavy like a calm ocean at night. Not cruel. Just vast. It was Caligo.
 Both there. Both are real.
 Her breath shook. “I feel them,” she whispered. “Both. They’re… not fighting. Just… waiting.”
 “Good,” Kael said. “Your fear makes them clash. Your calm brings them closer.”
 He stepped closer, his voice lower. “Now, imagine drawing a thin thread from each. Not all of it just a little.”
 Alessia focused. A thread of light. A thread of dark. Her hands tingled.
 “Good,” Kael said. “Now push them outward. Slowly.
 She obeyed. Light rose under her right palm. Dark under her left.
 When she opened her eyes, her hands glowed faintly. Soft silver on one side. Deep violet on the other.
 She smiled, breathless. “I did it.”
 “Not finished,” Kael said. “Now hold them. Don’t let them touch.”
 “Why not?” She asked. 
 “Because you’re not ready for that,” he said bluntly. “If they fuse carelessly, they will react. You could hurt yourself or worse.” 
 Her smile faded. She nodded. “Right,” she whispered. “Separate.”
 The energy began to tremble as her focus shifted. Her heart sped up. The lights flickered.
 “Calm,” Kael said. “They respond to you. If you panic, they panic.”
 Alessia forced herself to breathe slowly. In and out. The trembling eased. The light and dark softened. 
 She faintly grinned. “This… this is actually kind of amazing.”
 Kael’s masked gaze lingered on her. “You are handling it faster than I expected,” he said. “The previous princess lacked control. You learn.”
 Alessia sobered. “Do you know what happened to her?” she asked quietly. “Who pushed her?”
 Kael was silent for a moment. “I know too many people who could have,” he said. “But I do not know which one did.”
 Her chest tightened. He continued, voice softer. “Whoever you were before, whatever world you came from none of that matters if you die here the same way. Cornered and helpless.”
 Her breath caught. He knew. He didn’t say it directly, but he knew.
 “You’re not surprised,” she whispered, “that I’m not the real Alessia.”
 “You inhabit her body,” Kael said. “You carry her name. You now hold her life. That makes you real enough.”
 She swallowed hard. “Don’t cling to the girl who died,” he said. “Be the girl who lived.”
 Something in her chest cracked open. Luna Janus Jayson. Princess Alessia Keren Endymion. Two names but, one life.
 She nodded, tears burning at the corners of her eyes but not falling. “All right,” she whispered. “Again.”
 They trained until her arms trembled and her legs felt weak. Light. Dark. Separate. Controlled. Once, by accident, the two threads drifted too close. 
 A sharp spark snapped between her palms. The air shook. A small shockwave rippled out, stirring dust and leaves.
 Far across the palace, in the council wing, Master Darius straightened suddenly.
 “What is it?” Varian asked.
 Darius looked toward the window, frowning. “I felt… something,” he said. “A pulse, strong and close.”
 Priam, who had been reviewing reports, paused. “From where?” he asked.
 Darius closed his eyes briefly. “East wing,” he said slowly. “Near the old courtyards.”
 Priam’s gaze hardened. So, the girl was training. 
 “Keep searching,” he told Darius. “Discreetly.” Darius bowed.
 Priam stared out toward the east. “Threat or asset,” he murmured to himself. “We will see which you become Alessia.”