Chapter 42

Raureif’s mages and scouts stand nervously in uneven lines as Celeste Diminuendo—still clad in her brilliant white and gold marching armor—paces in front of them, twirling a conductor’s baton like it’s a dagger.

Celeste
(projecting with sound-imbued authority)
You are not warriors. You are not tanks. You are the heartbeat behind the fist. The rhythm that pushes the crescendo of battle forward. If you can't keep your own energy flowing, how do you expect to support a battlefield?

A trainee sneezes. Celeste turns toward them with the piercing grace of a lightning strike.

Celeste
(voice low)
Do you think sound waits for your immune system?

Trainees collectively flinch. Vivace, her vice captain, floats nearby, looking both entertained and slightly concerned.

Vivace
(softly)
Perhaps they need something a bit gentler to start?

Celeste
(snaps her fingers)
Which is why I’ll give them a demonstration.

Suddenly, she pauses mid-step. Her head tilts. She closes her eyes.

Celeste
(murmuring to herself)
...I feel a tempo spike. Southwest quadrant. Lily and Astera… they’re—training? No, that can’t be—are they actually training Kalt?

Without another word, she zips into the air like a struck drumhead, sonic wings propelling her across the castle grounds. The trainees blink as she vanishes.

—Cut to Kalt still sparring awkwardly with Astera and Lily. He lands another weak parry against Lily, breathing like he’s climbed a mountain. Suddenly, a high-pitched whistle pierces the air. The trio look up—

Lily
(eyes widening)
...oh no.

Astera
(sighs, dryly)
Here comes the reinforcement.

Celeste crashes down between them in a sound-dampening explosion, releasing a burst of harmonic resonance. Snowflakes freeze midair before shattering like glass. Kalt stumbles back in shock.

Celeste
(grinning wildly)
If you’re going to be king… you better learn to take a punch from your queen of percussion.

Kalt XVIII
(already shaking)
W-Wait—wait, what does that even MEAN—

She launches a flurry of blindingly fast punches, each one cracking the air like thunder. Kalt—entirely driven by fear—ducks, weaves, stumbles, spins, and somehow avoids every single strike.

Kalt XVIII
(screaming mid-dodge)
WHAT IS HAPPENING RIGHT NOW?! THIS ISN’T TRAINING—THIS IS A RHYTHMIC EXECUTION!!

Lily
(cackling on the sidelines)
You’re dodging though!! Look at you go!

Astera
(grinning)
Fear: nature’s best motivator.

Celeste
(still punching, delighted)
Don’t think! Move! Breathe! Feel the beat of your own survival! DODGE TO THE DOWNBEAT!

Kalt rolls, faceplants, somersaults—dodging what looks like it should have crushed him. One final punch comes just inches from his cheek, the shockwave launching his hair skyward. He lands flat on his back, arms flailing like a snow-angel in meltdown mode.

Kalt XVIII
(panting)
I think my bones are screaming…

Celeste
(beaming, hands on hips)
But you dodged every single one. Natural talent? No. But lucky terror? That’s a start.

Vivace lands nearby and claps politely.

Vivace
(to Kalt)
Congratulations. You’ve survived the Celeste Stress Test™.

Astera
(helping Kalt up)
If you keep improving at this rate, we might have to let you solo a Givre remnant someday.

Kalt XVIII
(breathless)
I’m going to hibernate for a week.

(smiling)
After lunch. You earned it.