The aftermath of the confrontation hung heavy in Veltharion Academy.No council decree, no doctrine of restraint, could suppress the echo of what they had all witnessed.
The great hall — once a place of elegance and formality — now felt like a sanctum of silent judgment. The marble floor still bore faint scorch marks where Eris Vale had stood, his calm fury reshaping the very fabric of aether.
The eleven family heads had been summoned immediately after the incident, their seats forming a circle around the dais.At the center stood Headmistress Valari Ka'tarel and Professor Myr, both standing side by side, their composure a fragile mask against the fear that pulsed beneath.
A quiet murmur spread through the gathered heirs and elders.None dared to speak loudly, not after what they'd seen — the overwhelming, divine pressure of an Echo that transcended mortal bounds.
Finally, Lord Verradine Calvess, the sharp-eyed patriarch of House Calvess, broke the silence.
"Headmistress Ka'tarel," he said coldly, "we all saw it. That… being. What in the saint's name was that?"
Valari didn't answer immediately.Her gaze flicked toward the far corner of the chamber — where Eris stood.
He was silent, unarmed, his hands folded neatly behind his back. His expression gave nothing away. Yet, even standing still, he seemed to warp the space around him — like the air itself recognized his existence as an anomaly.
"He is Saphine's shadow," Valari said quietly. "And that is all that should concern you."
"Shadow?" Verradine's lip curled. "That was no mere shadow! That was a god walking among men!"
"A god?"Eris's voice cut through the chamber, calm but unshakably heavy."You misunderstand, Lord Calvess. I am merely a witness."
Myr's hands tightened at her sides. She could feel the faint tremor in her pulse — that same primal awe she'd felt years ago, when she first heard the story from her grandfather.And yet now, standing here, she realized the truth:That story wasn't a tale.It was him.
Aether flared subtly as one of the elders — the same one who'd collapsed before Eris days ago — stumbled forward, fury masking his humiliation.
"Witness or not, you overstep your place! You dare strike an elder of Ka'tarel and walk away unpunished?"
The elder raised a hand, aether swirling.The air thickened as pressure radiated outward, aimed at Eris like a mountain descending on a man.
The hall quivered. Several students gasped.
But Eris didn't move.
He merely turned his gaze — not even his full attention, just a fraction of it — toward the elder.
The aether pressure broke instantly.Not dispersed — broken.
The elder stumbled backward, his legs shaking violently as cracks formed beneath his feet. His knees hit the floor, his palms pressed against the marble as sweat poured from his brow.
The room fell silent again.
Eris exhaled softly, his voice low, nearly gentle.
"You should not use power you do not understand."
His eyes glowed faintly — not in fury, but in weary restraint. The kind of restraint only someone who had lived far too long could carry.
The other elders averted their eyes. Even Verradine said nothing further.
Valari finally stepped forward, forcing authority into her tone.
"That's enough," she said, her words trembling just slightly. "The second trial is over. The heirs will be sent home to recuperate. The council will reconvene in due time to discuss the Saintess's child and what becomes of her."
The elders bowed their heads, their compliance driven by fear rather than respect. One by one, they filed out, their whispers fading into the corridors.
Soon, only Valari, Myr, and Eris remained.
The silence between them was suffocating.
Valari finally spoke, her voice quieter than before.
"She's stable. Saphine. You saved her life."
Eris didn't respond right away. His gaze softened faintly, eyes distant.
"I only changed the part of the story where she didn't make it," he murmured. "The rest is still hers to write."
Valari hesitated, watching him. "And the girl? The Saintess's daughter?"
"Safe," Eris said simply. "As promised."
The faintest relief crossed Valari's face, though her pulse still thudded unevenly.For a long while, none of them spoke.
Myr finally broke the silence, her voice unsteady.
"You've seen too much for one lifetime, haven't you, Eris Vale?"
He smiled faintly — not with amusement, but with a sadness that seemed too old for words.
"That's the curse of sight, Professor Myr. Even when your eyes are closed, the world refuses to stop showing you what it truly is."
He turned toward the door, pausing just long enough to add,
"Wake her gently when she's ready. She deserves the quiet dream before the storm returns."
And with that, he vanished — not in light, nor shadow, but in absence.
Five Days Later
The sunlight poured softly through the grand window of Saphine's room, scattering across pale sheets and vials of faintly glowing aether.
She stirred slowly, eyes fluttering open, her head pounding with the echo of half-remembered dreams. For a long moment, she didn't recognize the ceiling above her. Then, it all came rushing back — the battle, the pain, the voice that called her name as everything went black.
Her fingers twitched.The faint sound of pages turning reached her ears.
She turned her head — and froze.
Seated beside her bed, a faint smile on his face, was Eris Vale.But not the same Eris she remembered.
His form was younger — or perhaps truer. His silver hair seemed brighter under the light, no longer perfectly combed but falling loosely over his forehead. His eyes, usually sharp and unreadable, were now warm — like the surface of still water.
And he was smiling.
It wasn't the small, polite smile he gave in public, nor the cold smirk he used in battle.It was genuine. Human. Almost boyish.
Saphine blinked several times, as if unsure whether this was another dream.
"E-Eris…?"
He tilted his head slightly, amused by her confusion.
"You're awake. Good."
She struggled to sit up, still dizzy. "You— you're different."
He leaned back slightly, his tone teasing but gentle.
"You mean handsomer?"
Saphine glared weakly, but her lips twitched in spite of herself. "No, I mean—"
"Alive?" he finished for her, his smile softening. "That makes two of us, then."
For the first time since she met him, she saw something fragile flicker in his eyes — something vulnerable, something real.
He reached over, adjusting the blanket over her shoulders.
"You've been asleep for five days," he said quietly. "The doctors said it was because your Echo needed to stabilize after… what happened."
"And you?" she asked softly. "Have you been here the whole time?"
Eris smiled faintly, eyes lowering.
"Where else would I go?"
The answer hung between them — simple, honest, and heavy with unspoken meaning.
Outside, the sun continued its climb, casting long beams across the floor.And for that brief, fragile moment, there was no weight of legacy, no trials, no echoes demanding purpose — only the stillness between two souls who had seen too much of the world… and yet found peace, however fleeting, in each other's quiet company.