The Academy grounds looked almost beautiful at night.
Glowing lanterns hovered along winding paths. Fountains whispered secrets to no one. The Noble's Festival had emptied the dormitories, silenced the courtyards. What remained was a dreamscape—elegant, hollow, and waiting to be disturbed.
Noven stood alone near the marble fountain in the east garden, fully dressed this time. His cloak had been repaired, though dried blood still crusted beneath the new bandages. His sling was gone. He'd refused to wear it.
He moved his right arm once. It still hurt.
Good.
Pain meant he was alive.
He sat beneath the statue of Saint Valerra, the "Goddess of Reason," her blindfolded marble face turned toward the stars. She held two swords: one pointed to the heavens, one buried in the earth.
He watched the sky through the leaves above.
His eyes weren't glowing.
But they saw everything.
Behind him, footsteps approached.
Soft.
Hesitant.
He didn't turn.
"You've been quiet all day."
Alyss stood there, her arms crossed, a wrapped lunch box in her hands.
Noven didn't respond.
She sighed, stepping beside him and setting the food down without asking. She didn't look at his face. Just the way his shadow didn't seem to move with the wind like everything else.
"I didn't tell anyone," she said.
Still, nothing.
"I know you don't care, but… I figured you should know."
Finally, his voice came.
Flat. Quiet.
"What exactly do you think you know?"
She hesitated.
"…You didn't just get jumped. That wasn't some random ambush."
She looked at him now. Really looked.
"You let them find you."
A faint breeze stirred his hair. His cloak rustled like old parchment.
He didn't nod. Didn't confirm it.
But she saw it anyway.
"You're insane," she muttered.
Noven's reply was calm. Inevitable.
"I needed to know how far they'd go."
"And?"
His eyes flicked toward her.
"They're still holding back."
Alyss almost laughed, but it came out bitter.
"You call that holding back? One of the buildings is still smoking. The city's probably putting a bounty on whoever destroyed half the district."
Silence.
She looked down at the untouched lunch between them. Then, quietly:
"I saw what you did."
A pause.
He didn't ask her to elaborate.
But she did.
"Your scars. That fight. The way you moved. Or didn't move. You… you weren't fighting like someone trained. You were fighting like someone built to do it."
Her voice cracked a little.
"You weren't trying to win. You were trying not to lose control."
That finally got a reaction.
Noven turned his head slightly, just enough for her to catch the faint reflection of his red eyes under the moonlight.
"You don't understand," he said. "But you're close."
"I'm not stupid."
"No," he said, "you're just not ready to see the rest."
Something behind his tone made her throat tighten.
But then he stood.
And in the same motion, he offered his hand.
Alyss blinked. "What—?"
"The food," he said. "Before it gets cold."
"…You're actually eating it?"
He didn't answer.
Just walked ahead, assuming she'd follow.
She did.
⸻
Somewhere Else – The Capital
Inside a high tower filled with ancient runes and soft candles, a girl stood before an ornate mirror.
White hair spilled down her back like silk. Her eyelashes were almost translucent. Eyes black as obsidian.
The Princess.
She touched the glass, and it rippled—showing not her reflection, but the image of Noven, walking beside Alyss beneath moonlight.
A second figure stepped behind her in the mirror's reflection.
An older man in ceremonial robes.
"You still refuse to tell me what you see in him," he said quietly.
She didn't look away from the image.
"There's something inside him," she murmured.
"Power?"
"No."
She tilted her head.
"Absence."
The mirror flickered—Noven vanishing, reappearing—like the world couldn't quite hold him in place.
"You believe he's dangerous."
"I believe he doesn't belong to this world," she whispered.
The man frowned.
"And yet you wish to be near him."
She finally looked up at the robed man.
Her voice was cold. Absolute.
"I need to know if what I felt that night was real."
⸻
Night – Outside the Academy Walls
A cloaked figure stood atop a distant hill, watching the academy through black binoculars.
A soft click.
"I have visual confirmation."
A voice crackled through an earpiece.
"Is the target alive?"
"Yes."
"And the Specter Shift?"
"…Confirmed. He used it."
A long silence.
Then a different voice came through—older, raspier.
"You are not to engage. Not yet."
"But—"
"Observe only. If he's truly remembered the technique… we may not be able to capture him at all."
The figure lowered the binoculars, exhaling.
"He's dangerous."
"No," said the voice.
"He's perfect."
A second later, the line cut.
The figure stood alone in the dark, gaze fixed on the campus lights.
Below, Noven sat under a tree, eating quietly beside Alyss.
Unaware.
—or pretending to be.
The wind shifted.
And just for a heartbeat…
Noven's eyes flicked toward the hill.
Not looking.
Knowing.
The figure froze.
Then slowly backed away, disappearing into the forest like smoke.
⸻