A year had passed since the unknown Labyrinth had swallowed Noct. To the world, he was dead. To his former classmates, he had become a ghost—an echo of a mission gone wrong. Only a few ever spoke his name anymore, and even fewer still remembered the weight of his absence.
The rest of the class, now under the leadership of Eria, had flourished in his absence. United by shared trauma and a hunger for growth, they had banded together to form their own guild—Argent Dawn. The name came from Eria herself, who believed they were the first light after a long, cold night.
Argent Dawn quickly rose in reputation among the coalition's youth. Their members, once students, now stood as full-fledged Venators. Raids, recoveries, and even minor labyrinth clears had polished their skills to a fine edge. They were no longer just survivors of the unknown Labyrinth—they were champions.
But not everyone had joined.
Rael, the quiet, silver-eyed girl who had rarely spoken in class, had chosen a different path. Unlike the others, she hadn't joined Argent Dawn. When approached, she gave no reason. She had simply walked away from the forming guild and into the ranks of the Coalition itself.
Her abilities had earned her a place quickly—subtle, espionage skills that made her invaluable in strategic missions and high-risk communication-based assignments. But those who worked beside her noticed something odd: Rael never smiled. She never spoke of her academy days, and she never accepted praise.
She carried herself with composed silence, as if weighed down by an invisible burden.
The truth was simple.
She blamed herself for Noct's death.
In the chaos of that day—when the Labyrinth had opened and swallowed half their squad—Rael had hesitated. She had been close enough to reach him, to help him, to scream out. But she hadn't. Fear had gripped her. And then he was gone.
No matter how many people told her it wasn't her fault, she couldn't let go of the guilt. That guilt had shaped her path. She didn't deserve to be in Argent Dawn, didn't deserve the awards, or the banners, or the praise. She would pay for what she had let happen. Not with death, but with duty
And so she served. Mission after mission. Alone when possible. Distant when not.
And somewhere deep inside her, buried beneath layers of silent resolve, was a quiet, impossible hope.
That Noct wasn't truly gone.
That someday, she would be able to face him.
And say the words she had never been able to.
"I'm sorry."