"In my eyes…" She paused for a moment, holding his gaze. "You're a lost cause."
The assessment hung in the air between them. Final. Absolute. Delivered without malice but without comfort either.
"Thank you," Cel said. "Very motivating."
Hestia raised one eyebrow. "You wanted my opinion. Not comfort."
"I know." The acknowledgment came flat. Because she was right, as usual. He'd asked for honest assessment, received exactly that, and now had no grounds to complain about the answer being unpleasant.
She turned back toward the path, resuming her steady pace without waiting to see if he followed.
Cel watched her back for a moment - the wine-red ribcage frame stark against black robes. Then his feet carried him forward, falling into step behind her.
The forest deepened around them as morning stretched toward afternoon. Sunlight filtered through leaves overhead in scattered patches that painted the ground in shifting patterns. Birds called from branches they couldn't see. Somewhere distant, water ran over stones with the patient sound of a stream that had been following the same path for centuries.
Cel's thoughts circled endlessly, chewing on problems without finding solutions. Lost cause. The words kept returning, pressing against his consciousness with uncomfortable weight.
But what else was new? He'd been a lost cause since the moment his father decided the Moon Goddess's mark made him worthless. Since the Children of the Voidmother discarded him and threw him into a rift. Since he became a Chosen One without a single drop of Divine Energy flowing through his body.
Lost causes were his specialty, apparently.
Undergrowth pressed close on both sides - ferns and low bushes that rustled when wind moved through them.
Occasionally Hestia would stop. Pull out her map, orient herself against visible landmarks, to confirm they hadn't strayed from the route. Cel would wait a few steps back, giving her space to work.
Then she'd fold the map away and continue walking.
The silence between them felt less hostile than contemplative. Like they'd both said what needed saying and now existed in the aftermath, processing individually rather than together.
Afternoon wore on. The sun tracked across the sky in its patient arc, shadows lengthening and shifting direction as hours accumulated. Cel's body registered no fatigue, but his mind felt heavy. Weighted by thoughts that refused to organize themselves into anything useful.
Eventually the light began fading and the path widened. Trees thinned slightly, creating a natural clearing that looked deliberately chosen - flat ground, good sight lines, close enough to a stream that water sounds carried through the undergrowth.
Other students had already arrived. Perhaps two dozen, scattered across the clearing in loose groups. Sleeping bags spread on the ground. Bags leaned against trees. The quiet conversation of people who'd spent the day navigating unfamiliar territory and encountering whatever the forest had thrown at them.
Heads turned as Cel and Hestia entered the clearing. Gazes tracked toward them with varying degrees of curiosity and wariness, lingering on Hestia before cutting away.
She moved to the clearing's center without hesitation, already pulling a notebook from her bag. Her voice carried across the space with practiced authority.
"Group leaders, report to me. Everyone else, begin gathering firewood and setting up your sleeping areas."
The clearing shifted into organized motion. Students who'd been sitting rose and dispersed toward their assigned tasks. Group leaders converged on Hestia, forming a loose semicircle around her as she began recording information.
Cel left her to it. His eyes found Lior almost immediately - wheat-blond hair catching the fading light, standing near the clearing's edge with his sleeping bag already rolled out on the ground.
Relief flickered across Lior's face when he spotted Cel approaching. "You're alright."
"Of course." Cel unslung his bag, dropping it beside Lior's chosen spot. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"I don't know. I just..." Lior gestured vaguely. "Worried. That's all."
Cel pulled his own sleeping bag free and spread it on the ground. The action felt oddly domestic. Settling in for the night like this was normal, like they weren't surrounded by wilderness that wanted them dead.
Around them, other students moved with similar purpose. Sleeping bags appeared across the clearing in clusters that roughly matched the groups Hestia had assigned. Firewood accumulated in a central pile. Someone had found stones and begun arranging them in a circle for the fire itself.
Eventually Hestia finished with the group leaders. They dispersed back to their respective clusters, carrying whatever instructions or corrections she'd provided. She surveyed the clearing once, crimson eyes tracking across the various preparations, then moved toward the growing pile of gathered resources.
Students had contributed what they'd found during the day's travel - wild vegetables, edible roots, a few mushrooms someone had managed to find.
Hestia examined the collection with the same analytical attention she applied to everything. Then she straightened, her voice carrying across the clearing.
"I'll cook tonight."
Silence dropped like a stone.
Every conversation died mid-word. Students turned to stare at her with expressions that ranged from confusion to outright disbelief.
A Great Clan heir. The future leader of the Death Clan. Someone who'd been raised with servants handling every domestic task. Offering to cook for commoner students.
No one objected though.
What could they say? That she wasn't allowed to cook because of her birth? That nobility made her incapable of preparing food?
Hestia ignored the stares. Just began organizing ingredients with economical movements, sorting vegetables, setting aside items that required different preparation.
Cel watched for a moment, then found himself moving toward her.
She glanced at him briefly. "Your help is not needed."
"I'm not offering to help." Cel leaned back slightly, making his position clear. "Just watching."
Hestia's lips twitched. Almost a smile. Then she returned her attention to the ingredients.
The fire had been started by then. Flames crackled and popped, throwing heat and flickering light across the clearing as darkness settled more fully. Someone had produced a pot - standard Academy issue, distributed with their bags - and set it over the flames on a makeshift stand of green branches.
Hestia worked with the kind of practiced efficiency that spoke of repetition. Her hands moved without hesitation.
Cel found the display oddly mesmerizing. Not the cooking itself exactly. More the contradiction of watching someone whose entire existence should have been sheltered from practical skills demonstrating clear competence at something mundane.
"How do you know how to cook?" The question emerged carefully. "That's not something you usually learn as a noble."
Hestia's hands stilled for just a moment. The knife paused mid-cut, blade catching firelight at an angle that made it gleam like liquid gold. Then she resumed the motion, finishing the vegetable before responding.
"You can take it as a family tradition."
Cel waited, but she didn't continue. Just transferred the diced vegetables into the pot with methodical efficiency, then reached for the next ingredient.
So Cel let it drop.
The cooking continued. Water added to the pot, seasoning from small pouches that Hestia must have brought specifically for this purpose. The smell began shifting - raw vegetables giving way to something richer as heat transformed ingredients into actual food.
Eventually Hestia filled two bowls from the pot and held them out toward him.
"Here."
Cel took them, fingers wrapping around warm sides. "Thank you."
She nodded once, then returned her attention to serving others. Students had begun forming a loose line, drawn by the smell and the promise of hot food after a full day's travel.
Cel stood, careful not to spill, and picked his way across the clearing to where Lior waited.
He had already spread out fully - sleeping bag opened, bag positioned as a makeshift pillow, the careful arrangement of someone settling in for the night. He looked up as Cel approached, relief evident in the way his shoulders eased.
"Thought you'd forgotten about me," Lior said.
"Never." Cel dropped down beside him, handing him a bowl.
They ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes.
Around them, other students engaged in similar rituals. Small groups clustered together, sharing meals and conversation. The clearing had transformed from a bare space into something almost communal. Temporary home for people who'd been strangers months ago.
"So." Lior's voice broke through Cel's thoughts. "What did you do?"
Cel glanced at him. "What do you mean?"
"To end up walking with Lady Hestia." Lior's sky-blue eyes held accusation and concern in equal measure. "What did you do this time?"
"Nothing." The answer came instantly.
"Nothing." Lior repeated the word like he was tasting something unpleasant. "You want me to believe that?"
"Exactly."
"Swear it then." Lior set his bowl down, giving Cel his full attention. "Swear on the Moon Goddess that you did nothing."
The demand landed with unexpected weight. Because the Moon Goddess was Cel's patron deity. The source of his blessing and mark. Swearing falsely on her would be the kind of blasphemy that even he wouldn't attempt.
Cel opened his mouth. "I swear on the Moon Goddess that—"
The words cut off.
His mind supplied an image of him attacking Hestia. When she figured out that Cel is a noble.
He'd tried to kill her.
So it wasn't exactly accurate to claim he'd done nothing.
The pause stretched too long. Lior's expression transformed from suspicion into vindication.
"I knew it," Lior said. "You did do something."
"It's not—" Cel searched for words. "It's complicated. But we're on good terms now. I promise."
"Good terms." Lior's skepticism was palpable. "With a Great Clan heir?"
"Yes."
"And how exactly did you achieve these 'good terms'?"
Cel considered. "We've spent time together. Gotten to know each other. We even shared a bed once."
Lior went completely still. Not just quiet. Frozen. His eyes wide, mouth slightly open, muscles locked into place.
Confusion flickered through Cel. Had he said something wrong?
Then he followed Lior's gaze.
Turned slowly.
Hestia stood directly behind him. Perhaps three steps away, close enough that she'd definitely heard every word. She held a bowl in one hand, steam still rising from its surface, her crimson eyes fixed on Cel with an expression that he couldn't quite read.
Her jaw set in a line that suggested she was reconsidering several life choices.
Then Hestia turned. Walked away without a word, her black robes swirling around her legs as she moved back toward the fire with deliberate, controlled steps.
Cel stared after her. His mind caught somewhere between recognition and denial, unwilling to accept what had just happened.
He turned back to Lior slowly. "I screwed up, didn't I?"
Lior just stared at him. His expression suggested that "screwed up" was a vast understatement.
"So much…" Lior said finally. "You screwed up so much."