Murderer.

Alana turned to Fjall, "So do you pick your teammates?"

Fjall shook his head, "Just watch Mordeu."

They both turned to the direction where Mordeu had strolled to. Amongst many other trainees, he found his way to a certain rock that was only three feet tall. Alana and Fjall watched how Mordeu placed his hand on the stone, and how immediately he was coated by a white glare that covered his entire being, shining almost like the sun hanging in the sky.

And in less than a minute, the light faded, and the color of Mordeu's clothes changed to white.

He glanced to his left where Cillian stood under the tree, his hands folded lazily and an eyebrow raised in precedence.

Cillian had gone fast after Kai exited the pedestal; it was either that he was impatient or he basically was too tired to wait around. Whether or not the reason was the former or the latter, the color of his outfit remained.

In other terms, he and Mordeu were teammates.

Mordeu approached him, the effects of the sun diminishing. "So, four left?"

Cillian shrugged, "basically."

Mordeu nodded. He noted that the conversation would not go as swimmingly as it did last night and so he swallowed the compliment he was about to throw at Cillian.

"With you on my team, we'll be unstoppable," Cillian suddenly said, "only if my father believes I had no hand in this."

Mordeu chuckled, the air around them becoming slightly better, "is there a way to manipulate the result? Why would he even think you would?"

As a response, Cillian brought his eyes to Mordeu's, retaining the eye contact for a minute longer whilst he thought against informing him of the agreement between him and his father.

That was how far his trust in Mordeu ran.

Someone he had only just met.

Mordeu cleared his throat and pulled his eyes away, "so I'm guessing that you're happy I'm on your team?" He said without bringing his eyes to Cillian's, convincing himself he's had enough staring.

"Not really," Cillian's voice changed.

Mordeu was more interested in his words and when he turned his head to meet Cillian's, he saw the man glaring at something.

Mordeu took it upon himself to trace it and as a result, he saw Alana walking towards them, her outfit, white as snow.

She chuckled, "the fates must have a sense of humor."

"I'm guessing it's one that needs to be amended," Ayra appeared from another direction, her clothes just as white as her peers.

Mordeu heaved a sigh, scratching the back of his head, "this is going to be fun."

"We have two left," Cillian started, "let's wait and see just how funny the fates are."

The fates were blamed for this solely because most of the gadgets used in the supernatural were made by the fates. Although they were three old women who were assumed immortal because of how long they have resided alive, the affairs of the world were still of great interest to them.

For example, the birth of Cillian was one of those interesting events.

Alana scoffed, looking away from Cillian. Her eyes found their way to Mordeu. Before she arrived, she had seen just how lively Mordeu had been smiling and she thought instantly that he was in a good mood and that he would probably be excited that she was his teammate. However, that wasn't the case. His expression changed instantly when he saw her, turning into a frown she had never seen on him. And suddenly, she felt too aware, hugging her body, waiting for the next distraction.

"How long is this waiting going to last?" Mordeu's frown showed how displeased he was with the situation.

"There are over four stones there, maybe just a while," Ayra glanced towards the direction the selection was taking place, it was crowded but there was no shade of white in the crowd.

She brought her eyes back to Mordeu, "we just have to wait some more."

Mordeu nodded his head, he was not crossed with her, hell, he wasn't even crossed with Alana, he just hated the inevitable possibility that Alana would start talking shit about the Alvitirs and listening to her talk about that just debases his brain.

"Fuck."

They all turned to Ayra curiously, only to find her attention pinned on something else. They followed the line of her sight and saw a woman walking towards them, her uniform transformed to the color of snow, her sun-kissed, golden ombre hair fluttering in the sudden wind that seemed to only dance around her. Her piercing green eyes focused on them enveloped in a glare, but her charm and beauty were not lost in such uncourteous emotion.

Two swords hung around her waist and from her left shoulder to the right side of her torso contained a bow, the container of the arrows behind her.

She looked like a true warrior. A murderer.