"And the drawings, Holden. Look at this." She rotated the journal so he could see. The page showed a detailed sketch of an Ashen Hound, but not the side-view illustration from the academy guides. This drawing showed the hound from underneath, with detailed cross-sections of its skull and neck.

"The academy teaches that Ashen Hounds are basic pack hunters with no real weaknesses. That’s wrong. Look right here. The author mapped out a nerve cluster at the base of the skull where three major neural pathways meet. One precise strike to this spot doesn’t just kill the hound. It triggers a cascade failure that shuts down the entire nervous system instantly."

She looked up at him, eyes blazing.

"Do you understand what that means? If every hunter in the field knew about this, Ashen Hound encounters would go from dangerous to trivial. A well-placed arrow or blade strike and the beast drops dead before it can even process the threat."

She went back to reading, muttering under her breath about neural architecture and fog-adapted predators and something called "resonance tracking" that she needed to cross-reference with other materials.

Holden leaned back in his chair and watched her.

This was the Maeve he remembered from before their parents died. The one who would disappear into books for hours and come out with ten random facts that nobody asked for. The one who could look at a problem from an angle that nobody else saw.

The slums had buried that version of her. Survival mode had buried it in both of them.

But now she was sitting in a warded house, completely safe, holding a book that was basically written for her specific brand of genius.

He felt a sense of comfort inside him.

"Hey, Maeve."

"Hmm?" She didn’t look up.

"Want to hear a funny story?"

"Is it about the snake?"

"It’s about the snake. And an assassin."

That got her attention. She looked up, one eyebrow raised.

"An assassin?"

"So Draven, the noble kid I told you about? The one who’s been trying to make my life miserable since day one?"

"The one with the creepy smile?"

"That’s the one. He hired an assassin. Sent him into the fog after me. Rank 1, 9-Star. Stealth cloak. Daggers coated with paralytic toxin. The whole package."

Maeve’s expression darkened. "Holden."

"Let me finish. So this guy tracks me through the fog for a while, right? I let him think he was being sneaky because I wanted to see what he was working with. Eventually he makes his move. Comes out of nowhere, all dramatic, blades flashing, and started talking way too much about himself."

"He really talked that much?"

"Yeah, he talked a lot. He gave me the classic villain speech, explaining exactly who sent him and how much he was being paid for the job. It was actually very useful. Because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut, I now know Draven’s family has a discrete contracting network operating through the lower commercial district."

"Holden, this isn’t funny. Someone tried to kill you."

"I’m getting to the funny part. So the assassin finishes his speech and attacks. I dodge, obviously. We trade a few moves. He realizes he’s outmatched and goes for his daggers. I disarm him instantly and that’s when the snake shows up."

Maeve’s eyes widened. "The giant snake?"

"It rose out of the fog right behind the assassin. This thing was huge, with teeth as long and sharp as swords."

"Oh no."

"Oh yes. So the assassin was running away from me as fast as he could. He was looking back over his shoulder to see if I was following, so he didn’t see the giant snake in front of him. I was just standing there with the perfect chance to do something."

"What did you do?"

"I grabbed him by the back of his stealth cloak and threw him into the snake’s mouth."

Maeve stared at him.

"He went in face-first," Holden continued, clearly enjoying the story more than he should have. "The snake didn’t even hesitate. One gulp and he was gone. The assassin didn’t even have time to scream."

"Holden!"

"What? He was trying to paralyze me and drag me back to Draven. I simply introduced him to a larger predator. It’s called ecology."

Maeve pressed both hands over her mouth. Her shoulders were shaking.

"That’s horrible," she said through her fingers.

"It got the job done," he said.

"That is disgusting, but it certainly worked." She put her hands down, unable to stop herself from laughing. "I can’t believe you really fed a guy to a snake like that."

"I did."

"Who talks that much during an assassination attempt?"

"The assassin, apparently."

She laughed again, harder this time.

Then she stopped.

She looked at him very carefully. This time, she wasn’t searching for cuts or bruises. She was looking for something hidden inside him.

"You haven’t talked this much," she said softly, "or smiled this much, since before we lost our parents."

Holden was quet for a moment.

She was right.

For a long time, he had been trying to say as little as possible. He used short sentences and never made jokes. He only said what he had to. He felt that if he talked too much, it would be dangerous. He didn’t want anyone to find a way to use his own words to hurt him.

But the System had changed the math.

He was an 8-Star with a god-tier sword art, perfect footwork, a forbidden breathing technique, and a body that was getting harder to hurt by the day. He had political immunity from one of the most dangerous women in the academy. He had resources stacking up. He had a team that could hold its own.

And Maeve was safe behind a ward that could withstand a siege.

The survival mode wasn’t just unnecessary anymore. It was counterproductive. It was keeping him small when he’d already outgrown the space.

He looked at his sister sitting across the table with her messy hair, hugging the ancient journal. Suddenly, all his thoughts came together, and he finally felt sure about what he was doing.

"Guess I just needed to win for a while," he said.

Maeve smiled.

"Well, keep winning then. I like this version of you."

She went back to her journal, already mumbling about something called "fog-resonant migration patterns" and reaching for a pencil to take notes.

Holden watched her for a moment longer.

Then he got up, walked to the refrigerator, and started making dinner.