Chapter 13
Sonny trains away from campus, deep in a quiet place where there are no eyes and no questions. He sits on a cold stone, back straight, hands resting on his knees.
The world around him is still, but inside his body, ether never stops moving. He closes his eyes and sinks inward. The darkness behind his eyelids becomes a familiar space, not empty, but occupied.
Sonny feels Draco before he sees him. It is a pressure in his chest, a heat behind his ribs, a presence that does not belong to a human. "You are back," Draco says in a deep, echoing voice. His voice is not heard with ears. It lands in Sonny’s mind like a low growl wrapped in silk.
Sonny exhales slowly. "I need your help."
Draco laughs, amused. "Finally. I long to be free."
Sonny keeps his tone steady. "I need to understand how to use your ether. I have to kill One. I have to kill Two. I can’t do it without you."
"You can’t do it with me either," Draco says. "Not in that body."
Sonny’s jaw locks. "I know."
Draco’s presence shifts, like he leans closer. "You are a human trying to hold demon ether. You are a cup trying to hold an ocean. The cup breaks."
Sonny does not argue. He has felt the strain before. He has felt what even a small leak of Draco’s ether does to his nerves, muscles, the burning sensation.
"Then start with something smaller," Sonny says. "One technique. One strike. Something I can use without destroying my entire body." Draco goes quiet for a moment.
When he speaks again, his voice sounds almost curious. "You are asking for mercy."
"I am asking for a weapon," Sonny replies.
"Same thing," Draco says, then chuckles. "Fine. Let’s pretend I care."
Sonny’s eyes stay closed. "If I have to pay a price, I will."
"How much," Draco asks, "are you willing to pay"
Sonny answers immediately. "A limb."
That makes Draco pause. "Bold," Draco says. "Stupid. But bold."
Sonny keeps breathing. "Tell me."
Draco’s tone becomes instructional, the way a teacher speaks to a student who will either learn or die. "You already have Ether Jab. Condensed ether, focused through your forearm, used to pierce swiftly. Your problem is density. Your ether is sharp. Mine is heavy. Mine is a mountain."
Sonny’s mind fills with an image as Draco speaks. Ether compressing. Heat building. Pressure rising until the air itself feels like it wants to split.
"The technique is called Draco Smash," Draco says. "It is a supercharged strike. You can throw it like a projectile if you must. The output is not subtle. It is meant to end a fight."
Sonny’s pulse quickens. "What is the cost?"
Draco sounds pleased that Sonny asks. "Your arm. Maybe more. The ether density will burn you from the inside out. Your bandages might be able to lessen side effects of Draco Smash. At the same time, they might not be able to heal it completely. You might lose feeling. You might lose the limb." Sonny absorbs it in silence. Draco continues, voice colder. "But it will kill Two. If you land it clean, he will die. You will probably get one chance. One shot. After that, your body will be too damaged to do it again."
Sonny gives a short nod faintly, even though Draco cannot see it. "That is enough."
Draco laughs. "I like this. It will be fun."
"How do we train," Sonny says.
Draco replies. "If you want to use my ether without dying instantly, you cannot start at full output. You ramp. You teach your body to survive what it is not meant to survive. Short bursts. Seconds. Then stop. Let your body recover. Let your nerves learn the sensation. Let your muscles learn the load. If you try to hold it too long, you die."
Sonny’s mind starts building a schedule. Training blocks. Recovery blocks. Meditation to cultivate ether between attempts. He treats it like a mission plan.
"And when you strike," Draco adds, "you do not hesitate. The moment you hesitate, you waste the only chance you have."
Sonny’s voice is quiet. "I don’t hesitate."
Draco makes a sound that could be a laugh or a sigh. "You say that now. You have friends and purpose. For the first time in your life, you have something to lose. That changes people."
Sonny’s chest tightens, but he does not let it show. "We are done talking," Sonny says.
"Until next time," Draco replies, amused.
"Back to work then." Sonny shifts into deeper meditation.
Ether moves through his body like a river. He tests the edges of Draco’s mark in his chest, not opening it, just touching the boundary. A faint heat answers him. He pulls back immediately. The heat fades, but the warning remains.
Sonny opens his eyes to the real world again. The air feels colder than before. His hands look the same, but he can still feel that mountain of power waiting under his skin. He stands. The training begins.
He starts small. One breath. A flicker of Draco’s ether. His forearm aches instantly, like bone is turning to coal. He cuts it off at once and forces himself to breathe through the pain.
"Again," Draco says inside his head.
Sonny does it again. Another flicker. Another surge of heat. Another quick cutoff. Minutes pass in this rhythm. Spike, stop. Spike, stop. Each time, the pain comes faster, sharper. Each time, Sonny lasts a fraction longer.
He does not scream. He does not quit. When the sun begins to dip, Sonny finally wraps his right arm in fresh bandages, not because he is bleeding, but because the skin feels raw and sensitive, like it has been cooked.
He sits back down, exhausted, and returns to meditation. Draco’s voice drifts through the quiet. "You might actually survive long enough to disappoint me."
Sonny’s mouth lifts by the smallest degree. "That is the plan."
Ellie wakes up as the sun is shining.
Today is her final four match against the second‑ranked student at AM, an earth magic prodigy known for precision and control. Ellie sits on the edge of her bed, replaying everything she knows for the match. The second rank is balanced. Strong defense. Strong offense. Smart.
Ellie exhales. “I need to create an opening,” she mutters. She begins to map out a path to victory.
She enters the arena later that morning calm and focused. The crowd roars as she steps into the ring.
The battle starts and the second rank takes control immediately. Stone rises in angled slabs, not random, but placed like chess pieces. A wall snaps up to Ellie’s left to cut off her escape, then a ridge erupts in front of her to force a stop. Ellie barely slips around it, heat flaring at her hands as she blocks and pivots.
The next strike comes before she finishes moving. A spear of rock shoots up under her heel. She hops, lands wrong, and feels the pressure of the arena closing in. Ellie grits her teeth and survives the opening wave.
She waits for one small gap, one breath of space, and then she executes her plan. She throws an intense burst of light straight at her opponent’s face, bright enough to wash the ring in white.
The second rank flinches, uses her hands to shield her eyes, and throws up defense instantly. Thick rocky walls rise around her like a bunker. The light fades. Inside that stone shell, the second rank is protected, but she can’t see what happens outside it.
Ellie scoops up a loose rock and tosses it over the wall. It clacks against the ground behind the barrier. The second rank hears it.
She drops the walls and whips around, launching a heavy earth strike toward the sound. Nothing is there and now Ellie is behind her.
“I got you,” Ellie mutters.
She unleashes her finishing blow at point blank range, before the second rank can reset her stance or raise another wall. The second rank drops.
The referee calls it. “Match over.”
Ellie wins. Ellie stands there stunned, then laughs, breathless and triumphant. She did it. On her own. With strategy.
Jess finds her afterward. “That was insane.”
“I thought of it myself. I wasn’t sure if it was going to work,” Ellie pridefully.
Jess grins. “We have to go out and celebrate! You’re going to the finals!” Ellie agrees and they make plans to celebrate later that evening.
Two days later, Ellie faces the top‑ranked student, who can wield fire, wind, and energy while dual casting.
Ellie fights hard. She lasts longer than expected. But she loses.
Afterward, Jess asks why she’s smiling.
“I’m still going to intercollegiate,” Ellie says. “And now I know how far I still have to go.”
Ellie and Jess split up in the corridor, and a man in a neat suit steps into Ellie’s path.
“Ellie Grimm?” he asks, polite and practiced. “Tough loss, but I was impressed with the effort. Making it to the finals is no small feat.”
Ellie slows. “Thank you.”
He offers a card. “I recruit for a guild. Our master wants you to do a private showcase. We were impressed with your overall performance.”
Ellie’s heart kicks, but she keeps her face calm. She glances at the card, then hands it back. “I appreciate it,” she says, “but I’m joining my family’s guild after college.”
The recruiter gives a small nod, smile still in place. “Loyalty. I respect that. If you change your mind, you know where to find us.”
He walks off. Ellie stands there for a beat, then lets herself smile. Someone noticed her. A real guild. A real offer. She wishes Sonny was here so she could tell him about it.
A week passes, and Ellie can’t stop thinking about Sonny. About what he told her. About the question he left her with. Whether she wants him in her life, knowing everything now.
At lunch, she sits across from Jess, poking at her food more than eating it. “Hypothetical for you,” Ellie says.
Jess looks up immediately. “That’s never a good sign.”
Ellie ignores her. “What would you do if someone close to you hurt you and your family really bad, but they didn’t have a choice. Or they didn’t know it would hurt you. Would you stay close to them, or push them away.”
Jess blinks. “Wow. That got dark fast.”
She studies Ellie for a second, then smirks. “You and Sonny having problems?”
Ellie snaps her head up. “I’m serious. I want a real answer.” Jess’s smile fades.
She leans back in her chair and thinks for a moment. “I think it’s hard to blame someone if they truly didn’t have a say,” she says slowly. “Or if they didn’t know what the consequences would be. But that doesn’t mean what they did is all forgiven.” Ellie listens, silent. “Forgiveness isn’t automatic,” Jess continues. “And it doesn’t mean forgetting. If they’re a real friend, they stick around. They take responsibility. They try to make it right. A simple apology isn’t enough.”
Ellie nods. “That makes sense.” She exhales. “Thanks.”
Jess tilts her head. “By the way, where is Sonny? I haven’t seen him since the ball. He’s been missing class more than usual.”
Ellie is careful not to spill anything about what Sonny told her about his life, “He’s training,” Ellie says. “Something new he’s working on.”
Jess frowns. “He trains harder than anyone I know, and he never even shows off here.”
Ellie shrugs. “I don’t fully understand it either. Probably preparing for intercollegiate,” keeping everything she knows about him a secret.
Jess nods. “I guess that makes sense. It’s kind of a big deal.”
They finish lunch and head out, but Ellie’s thoughts stay where they’ve been all week, circling the same question, waiting for an answer she knows she can’t avoid much longer. Another week passes, and Sonny still hasn’t returned. He has far surpassed the week and a half return time he promised, and Ellie can’t stop checking the time and the door.
On top of that, there is an exam this week that Sonny cannot miss. By the morning of the test, Ellie is already on edge. She stands in the hallway with her friends, half listening to the conversation, when she sees him.
Sonny walks toward the classroom. He looks terrible. His eyes are bloodshot. His face is bruised. His posture is stiff, like every step hurts. His right arm is completely wrapped in bandages, something he never does unless he is badly injured.
Ellie leaves her group immediately. “Sonny,” she calls. He does not look at her.
She follows a few steps, calling his name again, but he keeps walking and disappears into the classroom without slowing down. Ellie stops in the hallway, heart sinking. She hopes he comes back to the apartment tonight. She needs to see him somewhere that isn’t public. She has her answer for him.
Inside the classroom, Sonny takes his usual seat next to Reya. The reaction is immediate. Heads turn. Whispers spread. No one misses the way he looks.
Reya stares at him for a moment, then leans closer. “What happened to you,” she asks quietly. “And what’s with your arm.”
Sonny turns his head just enough to look at her. “It’s none of your concern.”
Reya frowns. “Well, I’m a little concerned. You look awful. And you smell like you slept in a gym.”
Sonny exhales. “I appreciate the concern. I’m fine. I’m just here for the exam.”
Before she can say anything else, the professor begins the class. Exams are handed out.
The room goes silent. Sonny works quickly. In less than fifteen minutes, he stands, walks to the front, hands in his exam, and turns for the door. The entire class looks up as he leaves. No one says a word. Ellie sees him walk by her classroom window as he disappears again. The worry in her chest tightening instead of easing.
Ellie walks into the apartment late that night and stops short. Sonny is sitting on the floor in his usual meditation posture, back straight, hands resting on his knees. He looks much better and cleaner than he did this morning. He even looks a little more awake. But his right arm is still fully wrapped, the bandages layered thick like he is trying to hide what is underneath.
Ellie releases a breath she does not realize she is holding. “You’re back,” she says, and her voice cracks slightly.
Sonny opens his eyes. “I am.”
Ellie steps closer, relief turning into anger as fast as a spark catches. “You tell me a week and a half,” she says. “It’s been two. And then today, you just walk right past me like I don’t exist.”
Sonny closes his eyes again like he is deciding what matters. He does not answer her scolding.
He simply says, calm and direct, “Have you thought about what I asked you.”
Ellie’s anger stalls. She swallows. “I have.”
Sonny opens his eyes. “Then tell me.”
Ellie stands there for a moment, hands clenched at her sides. Her throat tightens and her eyes sting. She hates that she is about to cry. She hates that he can make her feel this way at all.
“I can’t forgive you,” she says quietly. “I can’t forgive that you were part of what happened to my grandfather or all the others you have wronged. I’ll never forget it.” Sonny does not flinch. He accepts the words like a sentence.
Ellie takes a shaky breath and keeps going. “I keep trying to be angry at you and then I remember what they did to you, what they did to your body, what they molded you into.” She presses her lips together. “I don’t know what to do with that.” Her voice gets smaller. “And now that I know the full scope of it, I’m not going to throw you away like you’re just a weapon,” she says. “I’m willing to keep you as my familiar. I want you to stay. I want you to keep growing into someone you choose to be, not someone they forced you to be.” Ellie wipes her eyes hard, embarrassed by the tears anyway. “Just don’t make me regret it.”
For a second, Sonny just stares at her. Then he stands and pulls her into a tight hug. It isn’t gentle. It’s desperate, like he is holding on to something he does not believe he deserves.
“Thank… you…” Sonny says softly into her shoulder. “I don’t deserve your mercy. I don’t deserve your generosity. I’m so sorry.” Ellie’s arms rise slowly, then wrap around him. She lets him apologize until his voice finally quiets.
When they separate, Ellie looks up at him, still sniffling. “There’s something else,” she says. Sonny waits.
“If you ever get the time,” Ellie says, “you should try to make things right. For the other people. The ones you hurt.”
Sonny’s gaze drops, and for once, he looks like he is actually thinking about it instead of just absorbing information. “I have,” he says.
Ellie blinks. “You have?”
“If I survive the fight with One,” Sonny continues, “I want to find the families. I want to ask what I can do to make amends. I know an apology won’t be enough.”
Ellie lets out a shaky breath. “That’s… a good goal,” she says, voice soft. “A real goal.”
Sonny gives a small nod, like he is filing it away as something to hold onto. For the first time all day, Ellie feels the tension in her shoulders loosen. Not because things are fixed, but because for the first time, Sonny is here, and he is trying.
