OPERATION WINTERSPINE (Strings Between Us Book 2)

CHAPTER EIGHT: OF CRIMSON ENTRANCES, COLD KISSES, AND THE STORM

KD never said anything without meaning it twice.

Fencing Duel: Bladeline

Location: Glass Fencing Hall – Scholarium Wing

02:00 PM.
The glass above us shimmered like ice. Light streamed through in angled beams, casting fractured halos across the polished floor. I could hear it—the nervous shifting of uniforms, the occasional clang of metal, the way everyone kept their voices low.

The Glass Fencing Hall always felt too clean. Too pristine. Like a chapel made for saints. Or a battlefield waiting for blood.

And today, it was both.

This is where the Ardent Court begins the war.

The bell rang once. A long, low toll that echoed across the dome and through my spine. Spotlights narrowed to the center ring. Shadows danced at the edges of the room, but in that light—there was nowhere to hide.

✦ Match One:

Lyle Raizen Soriano vs. Lucian Ortega

Lucian moved first. No hesitation. Just forward. A clean strike. Straight to the chest.
The scoring light blinked red—1-0.

The crowd exploded.

Even from here, I could see Bianchi in the gallery below. She clapped once—just once—but the smugness on her face made it feel like she'd won a war.

But Lyle—didn't move.

No flicker. No twitch. Not even the barest raise of a brow.
Just... calm.

Beside me, KD leaned in slightly. His voice was low, like a secret passed in a storm. "He let him have the first one."

I didn't look away. Didn't blink.

"He's finishing the equation," I replied, voice cold and steady.

Because Lyle doesn't duel. He calculates. He executes. And when he strikes, it's not to score—it's to prove he already won.

Point by point, Lucian began to unravel. Lyle didn't chase. He read.
And when the fifth point landed with surgical ease.

Final Score: 5 – 1. Soriano.

The hall fell quiet.

No cheers. Just a single, inevitable truth rising with the silence:
The Court doesn't play fair. They play final.

✦ Match Two:

Thres Ramirez vs. Rowan Lopez

Rowan stormed in like a whirlwind. His footwork was frantic, aggressive, almost angry.

Was he... trying to exorcise something?

His blades flashed like he was fighting ghosts. But Thres didn't move to dodge. Didn't even try to block. He just... watched.

"Why isn't he countering?" someone whispered behind me.

I knew. Because Thres doesn't block what he can absorb. And then, like a tide finally turning, He moved. Not against Rowan. With him.

Every slash, mirrored. Every step, copied. He didn't just reflect Rowan's style. He became it—twisted it—broke it.

The score climbed with devastating control.

Final Score: 5 – 3. Thres.

✦ Match Three:

Keryn Montez vs. Cecilia Roxas

Cecilia entered with perfect form. Each movement like a metronome—sharp, practiced, disciplined. She struck like time itself.

But Keryn? Keryn danced. Her rhythm? Nonexistent. Or rather—unreadable.
She stopped where she should've started. Pivoted where there was no need. Paused mid-lunge only to flick her blade from the opposite side.

"She's off-beat on purpose..." I murmured, not even sure who I was talking to anymore.

It wasn't fencing. It was misdirection. Every step made Cecilia adjust. And by the time she did, Keryn was already a move ahead.

Like a puppet master tugging on invisible strings.

Final Score: 5 – 2. Keryn.

Silence.

Three matches. Three victories. Not a single fist raised in the air. The Ardent Court stood, statuesque. Composed. Unshaken. Like they expected nothing less. Not victory. Proof.

Bianchi's voice came next—softer now. Almost... disbelieving. "They studied us."

KD didn't miss a beat. His gaze dropped to her like a guillotine. "No. They just beat you."

And that was it.

I rose. Not quickly. Not for show. But because something in me demanded it. The weight of the moment pulled me upright.

The faint glow of the Ardent Crest shimmered over my chest as the light caught it. Not bright. Just... certain. Like a crown etched in silence.

Lyle looked up. Just once. Eyes unreadable. Cold. Steady. I met his stare. And for once— I didn't need a blade. I was one.

Because today, we didn't just win matches. We sent a message.
And the message was simple:

The war has already started. And we're already winning.