Several days had passed. Soren's days blurred into a quiet rhythm—teaching his classes with measured calm, then retreating into the vast halls of the Astralis Library in pursuit of answers.
Each time he come, Cassie Wynne was there. The young librarian's cheerful smile had become a constant. She had congratulated him warmly upon his return from the mission, and ever since, she had taken it upon herself to assist him whenever he came searching.
"What are you looking for today, Instructor Noctis?" she would ask, her tone carrying both respect and curiosity.
"Anything on restoring the heart," Soren would reply without hesitation. "Human heart, punctured beyond natural recovery."
Together, they scoured tomes, manuscripts, and ancient scrolls. Yet the deeper they searched, the more frustrating the truth became. Ordinary healing spells were powerless against damage to the heart. Even the most advanced regeneration required a vessel of immense vitality—an artifact, beast core, or relic brimming with divine energy. And even then, the results were uncertain.
One evening, after hours of fruitless study, Cassie exhaled softly and leaned against the reading table, her auburn hair catching the lamplight. "The holy cleric of the West Kingdom," she said thoughtfully. "I've read accounts of his miracles. If anyone can restore what you seek, perhaps it's him."
Soren closed the tome in front of him, his brow tightening.
The West Kingdom… that far?
Persuading Headmaster Eryndor to open a teleport gate was not impossible. But what reason could he give? He could not simply confess the truth—that Elara lay preserved within his demonic eye, Greed's space, her heart unmoving, her soul tethered by a fragile thread.
If I go with no explanation, he will refuse. If I explain too much, I risk exposing everything.
The question gnawed at him even as the nights rolled on.
---
That night, in the stillness of the forest, Soren sat on the veranda of his secluded home. The absence of Elara weighed heavily—she remained under the protection of the Thalrune family, and Soren think that the best for now. Even if he occasionally miss her.
The stars above were quiet witnesses as he turned the same thoughts over and over. How to reach her. How to save Elara.
"What are you thinking of that hardly?"
The voice, lazy and unhurried, broke the silence. Mature, familiar enough that Soren's guard did not rise.
He turned his head slightly. There, leaning against one of the veranda's pillars, stood a man whose very posture seemed detached from the world's concerns. His hair fell loosely over sharp features, and his half-lidded gaze carried a strange blend of boredom and sharpness.
Lancer.
Soren, he no longer feared Lancer.
If the man before him had truly wished to harm him, he would have done so long ago. Lancer was strong—too strong for Soren to match. Yet despite belonging to the infamous Black Vow, he had not once raised a blade against him. On the contrary, he had indirectly saved him, which mean also protecting Lyra, indirectly too.
Why fear a savior?
Soren let the silence settle before speaking. His voice was low, tinged with weariness."I need to find a way to save my friend."
"Ah, the one before?" Lancer replied lazily, his tone more curious than prying. "The one you… contained, with that strange power of yours?"
Soren said nothing. His gaze drifted forward to the dark expanse of the forest, the night swallowing every trace of light. He didn't need to answer; his silence was enough.
"Why did you come?" Soren turned his head, his voice even. "Is there something you need from me?"
"Nah." Lancer shrugged, leaning back against the pillar as if the weight of the world was none of his concern. "I'm just bored."
Silence again. Soren's thoughts raced while Lancer seemed content to linger in a haze of indifference. The contrast between them was almost absurd.
Then, without warning, Lancer tilted his head and spoke, as though offering a casual remark."Say… what if I knew a way?"
Soren's eyes snapped toward him, intent and sharp. "And what is that?"
"Killing a dragon."
The words dropped like stones into still water. Dangerous, outrageous—and yet Lancer had spoken them as easily as one would mention the weather.
"What?"
"Sacrificing a dragon's heart," Lancer said, his voice calm, his expression unreadable. "That can restore a human heart. Not just merely restore—it can even reinforce it! She'd be reborn, stronger than ever..."
Soren's breath caught. Shock struck him, but doubt quickly followed."Killing a dragon… that's madness. Can we even do it?"
Instinctively, he tugged at the collar of his tunic and pulled it aside, revealing the mark etched into his neck. The faint glow traced the shape, pulsing like a branded seal.
"A dragon marked me. Not long ago."
For once, Lancer's expression shifted. His eyes widened, his posture straightened."What the…?"
He gave Soren a long, searching look. "I knew you weren't ordinary. But this? Not to this extent. Did you make it an enemy, or…?"
"I don't know," Soren admitted. "I think… I intrigued him."
He did not say more. He would not reveal the Eye of Ruin, not even to this strange ally, not yet.
Well you intrigue me too... Lancer muttered, rubbing his chin with an amused smirk.
Soren exhaled, his voice lowering again. "It's too much of a risk. To make a hostile stance toward the dragon who marked me… to even consider killing it. I don't know if it marked me as ally, or something else. I can't decide on a reckless move. What's your take—"
He didn't finish. Lancer suddenly raised his hand, a silent command to stop. His gaze shifted toward the forest, sharpened in an instant.
Soren then felt it too—something, or someone's presence suddenly appear.
"Well," a serene voice drifted through the darkness, melodic and dangerous. "As expected of a Black Vow, your perception does not disappoint."
From the shadows emerged a figure—her steps graceful, her presence overwhelming without effort. Moonlight touched her features, revealing delicate beauty and eyes that gleamed with crystal clarity.
Soren's heart jolted. His breath caught as recognition dawned.
"Lady Ysmera Luneval."
She smiled faintly, though there was no warmth in it. Her gaze moved between the two men, assessing, measuring.
"Killing a dragon…" Her voice was soft, yet carried an edge sharper than steel. "That's a dangerous conversation the two of you are having."