Her Lies (Trilogy)

Lie 4

The training field stretched behind the University, kissed by golden sunlight and the soft murmur of the stream nearby. It was a quiet place, hidden enough that they wouldn't be disturbed—perfect for training.

Farah stood near the edge of the water, arms outstretched, lips pressed into a thin line of concentration. Before her, a ribbon of water twisted upward from the stream, shaking, unstable.

"You're gripping it too hard," Miles said calmly, standing beside her with hands clasped behind his back. "Water needs flow. Not control."

Farah let out a short, frustrated breath. The water collapsed with a splash at her feet.

"Flow, control—what's the difference if it just keeps falling apart?"

A low chuckle came from behind them.

Yui strolled over, hands in his pockets, eyes glinting with amusement. His jacket flared slightly in the breeze, loose and effortless like the grin on his face. "The difference, darling, is finesse. You're wrestling with it. Try seducing it instead."

Farah rolled her eyes. "Very helpful. Thank you."

"Anytime." Yui gave a mock bow before flicking his fingers. A small wave lifted from the stream and coiled around his wrist like a serpent, smooth and fluid. "You've got the power, Farah. But water doesn't obey strength. It listens to intention."

Farah crossed her arms. "My intentions are to not drown someone by accident."

"Then stop treating it like a weapon," Miles offered gently. "Start treating it like a limb. A part of you."

"Or a dance partner," Yui added. "One that likes to be led, not shoved."

Farah groaned softly but knelt by the water again. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes. This time, she didn't force it. She waited. Reached.

A thin thread rose, trembling—just slightly—but it stayed. Her eyes widened, breath held.

Miles smiled faintly. "Good. Keep that pace."

Behind them, under the shade of an ancient tree, Jude moved in silence. His blade cut through the air in precise arcs, each motion followed by a flicker of dark mist. He trained alone, never asking for help, never needing it.

His shadows slithered across the ground like smoke, responding to the rhythm of his strikes. Every motion was refined. Measured. Unrelenting.

Yet even as he moved, his eyes flicked sideways—watching them.

When Farah managed to pull the stream into a slow spiral, her fingers trembling with effort, Jude's blade paused mid-swing.

He said nothing.

But the faintest trace of approval crossed his expression.

Then the shadows surged again, and he returned to his training, faster, harder—pushed by some quiet fire.

Back at the stream, Farah was panting, but smiling.

Yui raised a brow. "Would you look at that. Progress. Miracles do happen."

Farah smirked tiredly. "Still annoying."

"You're welcome."

Miles chuckled. "You're doing great. Let's keep going while the energy's still with you."

Farah nodded, wiping sweat from her brow. For the first time, the water didn't feel like an enemy. It felt like something waiting to be understood.

After hours of exhausting ability training, the four made their way to the cafeteria. The scent of warm food and fresh bread greeted them like a long-lost friend. They found a table near the window, plates full, spirits high but bodies clearly drained.

Farah dug into her food with the intensity of someone who hadn't eaten in days. Fork in one hand, spoon in the other—she shoveled it in like the meal might vanish if she blinked.

"Hey—dude, chill. You'll choke," Yui said, reaching across the table and snatching her fork mid-bite.

"Hey! I'm hungry, let me be!" Farah scowled, trying to snatch it back from him.

Yui grinned, leaning back just out of her reach, twirling the fork between his fingers like a trophy. "I'm just protecting your throat from your own aggression."

Miles sighed with a quiet chuckle, then smoothly took the fork from Yui's hand and offered it to Farah. "He's not wrong. You've earned the meal, but maybe don't inhale it."

Farah grumbled but took the fork from Miles with a mock glare. "Fine."

She began eating again—slower now, every bite exaggerated in its grace and elegance. Pinky up, chin high, eyes peeking at the two boys with smug satisfaction.

Miles smiled and shook his head.

Yui rolled his eyes. "Oh no. We've created a monster."

"You two are just mad I can eat like royalty," she teased, taking another dainty bite.

Once the plates were halfway cleared and the pace had slowed, Miles leaned forward slightly. "So, what do you plan to do next with your training?"

Farah paused, her spoon hovering over her rice. She thought for a moment, then answered quietly, "Rain. I want to create rain."

Yui blinked. "Rain?"

Even Jude who was eating quietly, looked at her in confusion.

"Yeah," she nodded, a little more sure of herself. "Because... if I can make it rain, it means I really have control. Not just pushing water around—I mean creating it. Gentle rain, like a shower, or soft drizzle. Something that falls by my will."

Miles tilted his head, intrigued. "Interesting goal. That's advanced control. Not just movement, but generation and sustained flow."

Farah nodded again, this time more confidently. "I know I'm far from it, but... it feels like the right direction. Not just strength—but presence. A kind of calm."

Yui leaned on his elbow, giving her a curious look. "Didn't think you were the poetic type."

She stuck her tongue out at him.

He laughed, genuinely. "Alright, rain girl. Let's see if you can really summon clouds with that temper."

"I'll summon a storm on your head if you keep talking," she said, but there was a spark in her eyes.

Miles smiled at both of them. "We'll help. If rain's what you're aiming for, we'll figure it out. Together."

Farah gave a small, grateful nod.

The sun was setting, casting molten light across the penthouse windows. From the balcony, the world below looked soft—muted colors, lengthening shadows, a hush settling over the Academy grounds as the day wound down.

Yui leaned lazily against the glass railing, nursing a mug of half-finished tea. His sharp eyes scanned the horizon, thoughtful but unfocused, his body still loose from the long day. Inside, Jude stood near the door, arms crossed, face unreadable as always—still, watchful.

Miles sat on the couch just inside the open balcony doors, legs crossed, one arm draped along the backrest. In his other hand was a tall cup of black coffee frappe, condensation beading down the sides. He took a slow sip, the bitter chill a sharp contrast to the warmth of the sunset.

"She's not bad," Yui said quietly, watching the light shift over the glass. "Stubborn as hell. Reckless. But... she's getting better."

Miles glanced up from the notebook, a small smile on his face. "That's high praise coming from you."

"I didn't say she was amazing," Yui smirked, taking a sip. "Just that she's not as useless as I thought."

"Yui," Miles warned gently, though the amusement in his tone dulled the edge.

Yui rolled his eyes. "Alright, alright. She's got something. You saw what she did yesterday, right? That spiral? Her control's improving."

"She's adapting," Miles agreed, closing the notebook. "Quickly, too. And not just in ability. She knows how to listen. To herself. To us."

"She doesn't fight just to fight," Jude said, his voice low but clear. He didn't turn from the balcony, his eyes fixed on the horizon. "She fights like someone who's afraid. But she still moves forward. That means something."

The room fell into a thoughtful silence for a moment.

"She eats like she's afraid it'll disappear," Yui muttered, more to himself. "Trains like she's trying to prove something no one's asked of her. Makes me wonder what she lost before she got here."

Miles nodded slowly. "We all came here carrying something. She just doesn't hide hers very well."

"She's not hiding it at all," Jude said. "That's the difference."

Yui turned away from the window, the faintest hint of seriousness entering his expression. "You think she'll make it?"

"the what?" Jude looks at him.

"the rain." Yui answered as he looked at Miles waiting for him to answer.

"She will," Miles answered without hesitation. "She's learning. And she's not alone anymore. That changes everything."

Jude didn't speak, but his silence was agreement enough.

Yui sighed and dropped into the armchair beside Miles, setting his mug down with a quiet clink. "Just hope she knows what she's walking into. This place—our missions, our futures—it's not kind to people like her."

The three of them sat in silence as the sun sank behind the hills, casting long shadows across the University below. The penthouse balcony caught the last of the light, soaking everything in soft amber and fading gold. Down below, lanterns flickered on one by one, marking the slow shift from day to evening.

The world was quiet.

From their place above it all, the three boys watched—not as rulers, not as warriors—but as silent guardians. No danger stirred. No threat loomed. And yet, they remained—present, steady, aware.

They didn't say it out loud, but they all understood.

Farah was no longer just the girl with unstable water powers.

She was becoming one of them.

And whether she realized it yet or not... they had already decided they'd stand with her.

In the different realm...

The doors closed behind them with a deep echo, and only then did the royal children finally exhale. The tension that had gripped their spines loosened all at once.

"That ended more peacefully than I expected," Samora muttered, rolling her shoulders as if shedding a weight.

"Well, let's thank that poor girl he's been obsessed with for years," Yano said dryly, his voice tinged with bitterness.

"He just remembered her again out of nowhere," Vale added, frowning. "I wonder what triggered it this time."

"All I know is... I feel bad for her," Kaiser said quietly, sympathy in his voice.

"Pft. As if you actually feel anything other than anger," Job sneered. "Don't pretend. We were all raised by the same monster."

"As if he actually taught us anything," Wanu muttered under his breath, his eyes shadowed.

Their footsteps echoed down the hall as they left the king's wing. Without a word, Cain—the eldest—subtly raised two fingers in a signal. The others recognized it instantly. No questions asked, they veered off course, silently falling into step behind him.

They entered a hidden chamber tucked away from the royal halls—a private meeting room they had long since claimed as their own. Each took their usual seat, and the air shifted. Gone was the uneasy silence and dry sarcasm. Here, their masks dropped. Seriousness settled like a heavy cloak.

Cain looked around, then spoke.

"Has anyone received a letter from her?"

One by one, they shook their heads—until their gazes landed on Dante.

"My little brother hasn't received one either," Dante replied. "Last we heard, she's still searching."

Cain exhaled through his nose and nodded, more to himself than to the group.

"I see. Then we wait for her cue. I can feel it... the date is drawing near. The plan is almost in motion."

A beat of silence.

Then, without hesitation, every one of them nodded in quiet unison.

The storm was coming. And they would be ready.