Over a month had slipped by since Mevis's abrupt departure, the days blending into a new, muted normalcy at St. Heath's Academy.
The academy administration, with unsettling efficiency, had assigned Noah a new one-on-one combat instructor.
Just like before, the teacher was a formidable figure with a distinct, severe personality—cold, stern, and commanding, a mirror image of Mevis's professional demeanor. It was as if the academy had deliberately chosen someone from the same mold, perhaps to test Noah's resilience or to provoke a reaction by reminding her of what she had lost.
The new teacher was technically skilled, their critiques sharp and their expectations high. Yet, they were not Mevis. The subtle warmth that had underlain Mevis's strictness, the knowing glances, the unspoken understanding—all of it was absent.
Despite the jarring change, Noah dedicated herself to her training with relentless focus. Her discipline remained ironclad, as if she were performing for an unseen audience, believing Mevis might still be watching her progress from the shadows.
She caused no trouble for the new instructor, offered no complaints, and never once questioned the academy's opaque decision to replace her mentor. She simply endured.
Day after day, Noah maintained her strict, self-imposed routine: eating, sleeping, spending quiet moments with her sisters, and training—always training. The fire in her eyes, however, had banked into quiet embers. Her gaze had grown more distant, more introspective. Only in the company of Muen and Aurora did the faintest, most fragile trace of a smile ever appear.
Her younger sisters noticed the change immediately.
They understood, with the intuitive empathy of children, why their sister had retreated into this quiet shell.
Mevis's departure had been a seismic shock not just to Noah, but to the entire rhythm of their lives.
Even though they weren't Mevis's direct students, her constant presence in Noah's life had naturally woven her into the fabric of theirs. She had become a part of their family.
Muen had adored her. Who wouldn't love a beautiful, impossibly strong older sister figure who always, without fail, praised her baking, no matter how lopsided or burnt the results? "Delicious," Mevis would always say, her voice sincere, taking another bite.
Aurora had liked her, too. Mevis was the only adult who would genuinely laugh at her clever, harmless pranks, then step forward to shield her when other teachers or students grew upset, calmly stating, "Leave it to me to handle." Once the coast was clear, she'd turn to Aurora, not with anger, but with a gently chiding smile: "Don't do that again, little mischief."
Above all, Mevis had given them a specific, consistent warmth that felt not like the obligatory kindness of a teacher, but something deeper, something inherently and genuinely protective.
And then she was gone.
Vanished without a personal word, leaving behind only three identical, formal letters of farewell.
Muen had cried for hours when she found out, her fiery spirit dampened by genuine grief.
But as the weeks passed and the sharp edge of their sorrow dulled into a persistent ache, the dragon sisters were forced to accept the new reality.
"She's different from our sister," they reasoned aloud to each other, trying to make sense of it.
"If Noah were truly Mevis, she wouldn't have left us after nearly two years together. She wouldn't have."
Still, watching their eldest sister's quiet sadness, the two made a silent pact:
"We'll make Noah happy again! Like she was before!"
Muen stood with her hands on her hips, her little silver tail wagging with fierce determination.
Aurora, lying on the sun-warmed grass in front of her, scratched her head of pink hair.
"So, do you have an actual, workable plan, second sister?"
"Emmm... no!"
Aurora fell back into the grass with a soft thud, arms stretched wide, staring at the clear, indifferent blue sky with her sharp pink eyes.
"Forget it, second sister. Dad always said, 'You can't just decide to make someone happy. These things take time and their own path.' Big sister needs to find her own way out of this."
It was a rare moment where the academy's self-proclaimed goddess of mischief found herself utterly stumped, her cleverness offering no solutions for a wounded heart.
Muen pouted, the fire in her eyes dimming as she sat down heavily beside her. Her tail drooped into the grass, and she began plucking at the blades in frustration.
"But I don't want to just watch her like this. If big sis isn't happy, then I can't be happy either."
The two sisters lay there in defeated silence, the cheerful sounds of the academy around them feeling miles away.
Suddenly, the sunlight on their faces was blocked by a familiar, flowing blue presence. Helena's gentle face entered their view as she knelt beside them.
"Helena!" Muen exclaimed, her eyes widening in surprise. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be in class?"
Helena smiled softly and sat down gracefully, tucking her legs neatly beneath her.
"I came to find you. I wanted to ask if you've thought of a way to cheer Noah up."
The dragon sisters raised their hands in a gesture of hope, then let them fall back in defeat, replying in unison:
"Nope."
"Do you have an idea, Helena?" Aurora asked, propping herself up on her elbows.
Helena scratched her temple, a faint blush coloring her cheeks as if hesitant to propose something so simple.
"I have a thought, but it's more of an opportunity than a real solution."
Muen and Aurora shot up like coiled springs, leaning in eagerly.
"What's the opportunity?"
"Next week," Helena explained, "the academy will hold its annual fireworks festival to celebrate the start of the long holiday. I was with Noah once when Mevis was still here... I heard her promise Noah they'd watch the fireworks together this year."
She hesitated, then continued softly, "I thought... maybe, just maybe, seeing the fireworks might cheer Noah up a little. Or at least give her a moment of peace."
"Really? Then we have to take Noah to see them!" Muen said, her excitement instantly rekindled.
Aurora, however, furrowed her brow, her analytical mind taking over.
"But what if it backfires? What if seeing the fireworks, something she associated with Mevis, just makes her miss her even more? It could make everything worse."
Helena sighed, acknowledging the point.
"That's exactly why I said it's an opportunity, not a guarantee. She'll go, I think, not just for the fireworks, but for Mevis. It's a chance to remember her. Whether she finds a sense of closure or feels the loss even more acutely afterward... no one can say."
Aurora fell silent, her usual arsenal of clever plans offering no defense against the complexities of grief.
Muen, however, refused to let the pessimism win.
"We have to try! Three dragon sisters are better than one genius!"
Aurora and Helena exchanged a long, skeptical glance.
"Second sister," Aurora said flatly, "where did you even hear that saying? It's terrible."
Helena couldn't help but chuckle softly, closing her eyes. "All we can do now is wait for the festival and be there for her."
.
.
.
One Week Later - The Festival Grounds
St. Heath's Academy was alive with color and noise for its grand fireworks festival on the eve of the holiday.
Muen held Noah's hand tightly, with Aurora and Helena trailing closely behind, as they headed to the main field early to secure the best viewing spot.
The fireworks hadn't started yet, and Principal Olette was giving her traditional pre-holiday speech. It was the usual fare: "Enjoy your well-deserved break, but don't let your skills grow dull. Stay safe, listen to your parents and clan elders..."
Finally, the speech ended, and the festival officially began.
The first firework shot into the twilight sky with a sharp whistle, bursting with a loud crack into the brilliant, shimmering emblem of St. Heath's Academy. A wave of cheers and applause erupted from the gathered crowd of students and faculty.
"The principal really outdoes himself with the budget every year," a student nearby remarked.
"Yeah! I heard this year's finale is going to be even more elaborate than last time!"
Fireworks continued to blossom in the sky, one after another, forming various cute shapes—dancing dragons, soaring griffins—their vibrant colors reflecting in the beaming, upturned faces of the students.
"Look, big sis! That big, golden dragon is from your youth division!" Muen tugged at her sister's hand, pointing excitedly toward the spectacle.
Noah nodded faintly, offering a small, quiet "Mm" in reply.
She smiled and watched the display with her sisters and Helena. She was present, and she was trying. On the surface, she was happy.
But...
Noah's gaze unconsciously dropped to the empty space on the blanket beside her.
The seat reserved for the person who had promised to watch the fireworks with her remained vacant.
She clenched her hands briefly in her lap, her knuckles white, then consciously forced them to relax. She wouldn't ruin this mood for her sisters. She would hold herself together. At least until the festival ended.
"Look at that rose firework! So pretty!"
"Yeah, but isn't the color palette getting repetitive? It's all just red and yellow and more red."
"True... I wish they'd innovate. When will we get fireworks in other colors? Blue, or green, or silver?"
As the predictable, colorful explosions continued, the flashing lights illuminated Noah's face, her carefully maintained smile beginning to slip. Her mind drifted back, caught in the undertow of a specific memory.
"Noah, when the term ends, let's watch the fireworks together at the festival, okay?"
"Okay, teacher! It's a promise!"
"What kind of fireworks do you want to see the most?"
"Emmm... The fire ones are pretty, but they're kind of boring now. I want to see thunder ones! Dad made a 'Happy Birthday' sign for Mom out of lightning once, and it was the most amazing thing I've ever seen!"
"Wow, you've got some high standards and good ideas."
"Hehe~"
They'd made a promise. A specific, excited promise.
So why had Mevis broken it? Why had she left without a personal goodbye, vanishing like smoke?
Who knew when—or if—they'd ever meet again to fulfill it?
Noah blinked hard, pulling herself back to the present. She hadn't been this prone to sentimentality before Mevis.
Feelings were exhausting. Was this what Mevis had meant when she sometimes spoke of "adult regrets"?
Sensing Noah's growing melancholy, Muen and Aurora exchanged a worried glance and quickly moved to intervene.
"It's getting cold, Noah. Let's start heading back," Muen suggested, her voice unusually gentle.
"Huh? Aren't we staying for the grand finale?" Noah asked, her voice distant.
"We can watch the replay later with the recording stone. It's getting late, and the crowd is thinning. Let's head back now," Aurora added, her tone firm but caring.
"Okay..." Noah agreed softly, allowing herself to be guided.
Just as the sisters turned to leave, Vice Principal Wilson's magically amplified voice boomed across the field, filled with uncharacteristic excitement.
"Everyone, hold on! Before we conclude tonight's fantastic festival, we have one final, very special firework! This one was a last-minute, anonymous gift from a mysterious benefactor, dedicated specifically to one of our students. The message accompanying it reads simply: 'Wishing you a bright and thunderous future.'"
Noah stopped in her tracks, turning slowly back toward the field, her heart giving a sudden, painful thud.
A single, brilliant orange-yellow firework shot into the sky, not with a curve, but like a spear of light piercing straight through the heart of the darkness.
It soared higher, and higher, until it was a mere pinprick of light. Then, it exploded.
But it did not blossom into a flower of fire. It erupted into a breathtaking, crackling web of pure, brilliant blue lightning. The thunderous BOOM that followed was not an echo of gunpowder, but the genuine, rolling crackle of a storm. The electric display cast a radiant, shimmering, blue-white glow over the entire field and over Noah's utterly stunned face.
"Wow! Thunder fireworks! I've never seen one! They're so rare and beautiful!"
"Whoever sent this must be incredibly powerful! Controlling lightning magic for something as delicate as a firework is nearly impossible!"
Noah stared at the sky, the lightning intertwining, forming no specific shape, and yet forming the most perfect shape she could imagine. It was the promise, kept.
Finally, she closed her eyes, a single tear tracing a clean path down her cheek, followed by a soft, genuine, relieved smile that reached her eyes for the first time in weeks.
"Thank you, Mevis," she whispered to the night air, the words carried away by the fading echo of thunder.
Far away, atop a distant mountain overlooking the academy, a shadowy figure stood poised on the very top of a towering pine tree, watching the distant, fleeting blue light.
Her long black hair swayed in the night wind. She turned her head slightly, as if she could hear the whispered gratitude across the miles, her voice a faint, carried whisper on the breeze.
"This was our promise, My dear, adorable child."
With that, she stepped back, dissolving into the shadows of the night, leaving behind only the memory of thunder and a promise fulfilled.