The West Lounge was too beautiful to be a place where futures were decided.

Paedyn Gray lounged on a velvet chaise near the windows, one ankle crossed over the other, posture loose in the careful way she’d practiced for years. Relaxed enough to blend in. Alert enough to survive. From the outside, she looked like any other Psychic—quiet, observant, unreadable. Inside, every muscle was coiled tight.

Elites filled the room like living weapons set temporarily aside.

Blair Archer stood near the balustrade, fingers idly rotating a crystal goblet midair without touching it. Telekinesis came to her as easily as breathing—effortless, precise. The glass never wobbled, never spilled, as though the world itself bent politely around her.

“Careful,” Jax Shields drawled from the couch opposite Paedyn. “You’ll crack the thing and make a mess. Again.”

Blair didn’t even look at him. The goblet froze mid-spin, then snapped down onto the table with a sharp clink. “You flinched.”

Jax scowled. “Did not.”

Ace Elway laughed, stretched out across two chairs like he owned the palace instead of being tested by it. “You absolutely did.”

Near the fireplace, Braxton Hale cracked his knuckles, muscles flexing beneath sleeveless black silk. He didn’t speak much—never needed to. His presence alone was enough to remind everyone what raw physical power looked like when paired with Elite blood.

Hera Colt sat cross-legged on the floor, polishing the edge of a thin blade, eyes sharp and calculating. Sadie Knox leaned against a column nearby, arms folded, expression unreadable—her gaze sweeping the room with predator patience.

Andrea Vos—Andy—paced. Always pacing. Her boots clicked against marble in a rhythm Paedyn found herself counting.

The doors at the far end of the lounge opened without announcement.

Kai Azer entered like the room belonged to him.

Conversation dimmed instantly—not silence, but awareness. He wore black today, no insignia, no crown, just the quiet authority of someone who could end lives without lifting a finger. His power hummed beneath his skin, felt rather than seen.

At his side walked Kitt Azer, smile easy, posture casual, as though he didn’t share blood with a prince—or power with monsters.

“Well,” Kitt said brightly, clapping his hands once. “You all look… intimidating. Relaxing. Intimidatingly relaxed.”

Blair finally turned, arching a brow. “Shouldn’t you be busy being royal?”

Kai’s gaze drifted—not to Blair, but to Paedyn.

Her pulse spiked.

He studied her the way one might examine a locked door: curious, patient, waiting for a crack.

“Watching,” Kai said simply.

Paedyn forced her expression into something serene, letting her lashes lower just enough to sell the lie. Psychic. Ordinary girl with an ability. Not powerless. Never powerless.

Kitt flopped onto the arm of a couch beside Ace. “Two weeks until the Trials. Thought I’d check on our future champions. We have a new contestant for you all... {{user}}.”