Aurelius folded his hands on the desk, watching Azazel with that same calm, measuring look. A faint smile touched his lips—not of mockery, but of approval.
"Good," he said at last. "You've learned when to demand answers, not just gifts."
He leaned back, eyes narrowing as though recalling an old memory.
"Isabella of Barcelona. You will not find a more graceful killer among the Wardens. Her weapon of choice is the espada ropera—a rapier forged with consecrated silver. But it is not the blade you should fear most. It is her footwork, her patience. She dances her way around opponents, waiting for the smallest mistake, then strikes with precision."
Azazel listened intently, his fists resting on his knees.
"She uses her beauty and calm demeanor to disarm the mind," Aurelius continued. "Many forget they are in battle until the point is already at their throat. Her power is called Mirage Veil—it bends light around her movements. Not invisibility, but close enough. In the chaos of combat, you will swear she's standing in three places at once."
Azazel's jaw tightened. "And her weakness?"
Aurelius's smile thinned. "Impatience is her greatest flaw. For all her composure, she despises long, dragged-out battles. She takes risks to end fights quickly. And—" he lowered his voice, "—her style relies on exploiting predictable fighters. Force her into the unknown, disrupt her rhythm, and she falters."
Azazel stored every word like scripture.
"Oh and about the daggers I gave you…"
When Aurelius finally dismissed him, he bowed stiffly, hiding the storm of emotions under the mask.
The next morning, the training hangar echoed with the scrape of boots and the clatter of practice weapons. The team gathered in a circle, their breath misting in the cool air.
Lucien—Azazel—was the first to speak. He repeated Aurelius's words in clipped detail: Isabella's rapier, her veil, her preference for speed, her aversion to long battles.
Ino crossed his arms, his expression unreadable. "So that's what your master told you." He gave a short nod, then stepped forward. "Mine had no shortage of warnings. Basil says Isabella thrives in duels but falters in teams. She's deadly one on one, but against a coordinated group she cannot control the flow. He also mentioned her Mirage is weaker in complete darkness—light must exist for her to bend it."
Juan gave a low whistle. "So we blind her, disorient her, and wear her down until she makes a mistake?"
"Easier said than done," Matteo muttered.
Lucien nodded slowly, amber eyes glinting from behind his mask. "At least now we know what we face. "
The group exchanged looks—still wary, but more united than yesterday. The fight ahead loomed like a shadow, but at least now, they had a plan.