( third person pov)
The lounge had gone utterly still. Only the soft hum of the mana heater and the faint hiss of wind against the windows filled the silence.
Elaria's hand continued its steady path through his hair, fingertips occasionally brushing against the cool skin of his temple. She had almost convinced herself he'd fallen into a peaceful sleep — until his body gave a sudden, involuntary shiver.
It was subtle at first, like a fleeting chill. But then another tremor passed through him, sharper this time, making his shoulders twitch ever so slightly.
Her brows drew together. "Nex…?" she whispered, but his eyes remained closed, his expression unreadable.
She adjusted her hold on him, feeling more closely — his breathing was even, but there was a faint tension in his muscles, the kind that came from something deeper than cold. She had seen soldiers come back from missions like this — perfectly composed when awake, but trembling when the mind loosened its grip.
Unbeknownst to her, the Void Vault had done its work… imperfectly. It had stripped away fragments of his past to protect him, yet left behind echoes — flashes of sensations, moments without context — that gnawed at him even in rest. Memories of fear without faces, loss without names, and a voice calling out for someone he couldn't remember.
His fingers twitched faintly, curling toward her arm, then loosening again.
Elaria's throat tightened. She smoothed her palm over the back of his head, leaning down so her forehead brushed his. "You're safe now… You're safe," she murmured, though the words were more for herself than for him.
In the firelight, she caught details she had missed before — faint, barely healed scars along his jawline, the shadow of exhaustion under his eyes, and the way his sharp features seemed too defined for someone his age. The chubby-cheeked angel she had once braided hair for was gone, replaced by someone forged through trials she couldn't even begin to name.
Her chest ached with the need to ask him everything — where he had been, what had happened to him, what had turned her brother into this… But she couldn't. Not tonight.
So she just kept running her fingers through his hair, slow and careful, as if by doing so she could anchor him here, in this moment, away from whatever ghosts haunted him.
And somewhere deep in the quiet, the boy who had walked in so cold and composed let out a faint, almost imperceptible sigh — the sound of someone lowering a shield they didn't know they'd been holding.
____________________________________
Nex rose from the couch with silent at midnight precision, adjusting the headphones around his neck. He took one last glance at Elaria — still asleep, her arm resting where his head had been — before turning toward the door.
The halls of the rankers' dorm were dim, the mana lamps set low for the night. His footsteps were soft against the polished stone as he made his way out into the open air.
The academy grounds were awash in moonlight. The marble paths gleamed faintly, the gardens swaying in a gentle night breeze. Somewhere distant, water trickled through the ornamental channels that wound between the training courtyards.
He slipped the headphones over his ears. A slow, steady melody began to play — not triumphant or sad, but something in between. Each note seemed to smooth the jagged edges inside him.
His mind, unbidden, drifted back.
To a girl laughing as she chased him through a sunlit field. To her mock scolding when he ruined her braids by rolling in the grass. To the warmth of her hand pulling him out of a storm.
For a long time, those memories had been locked away, dulled by the Void Vault's cold efficiency. But tonight… they felt closer, more vivid. His sister's laughter in those visions sounded almost like the woman sleeping on the couch.
He didn't know why that thought tightened his throat.
Up in the high dormitory tower, a faint glint caught the moonlight — the reflection of eyes watching him.
Liora stood at her window, the curtains drawn just enough to see the lone figure walking the grounds. His steps were unhurried, his posture less rigid than before. She could tell, even from this distance, that something in him had shifted.
Her gaze followed him until he disappeared beyond the shadow of the eastern courtyard walls. Only then did she close the curtain, her mind a storm of questions she wasn't sure she wanted answers to.
And far below, with the soft music carrying him forward, Nex Calder walked deeper into the moonlit academy, the heaviness in his chest easing one quiet breath at a time.
The music in his ears carried him through the silent grounds — past the sculpture garden, past the east courtyard training circles, and down a narrow stone path lined with night-blooming flowers that glowed faintly under the mana lamps.
The academy was different at this hour. No shouts from the dueling pits, no rush of students in the halls — only the quiet sigh of wind between the marble arches and the occasional flutter of wings from mana-birds roosting in the rooftops.
Nex's steps eventually turned toward the First-Year residential wing — the building where the Academy had placed him after the enrollment exam. The dorm was less ornate than the rankers' hall, but still elegant: polished floors, carved wood banisters, soft blue glow from embedded mana-stones along the corridor walls.
He climbed the stairs at a slow, steady pace, his mind still half in those earlier memories — flashes of his sister smiling, voices from a life that was no longer whole.
Reaching the door at the end of the third-floor hallway, he paused. His assigned room number, etched in brass, gleamed faintly under the lamplight.
He unlocked it and stepped inside.
The space was modest but well-kept: a single bed by the window, a desk with fresh parchment and ink, a wardrobe, and a small shelf already stocked with the standard Academy-issued manuals. His travel bag lay where he'd dropped it earlier, untouched.
Nex set his headphones on the desk, letting the music fade into silence. The stillness of the room wrapped around him — not oppressive, not cold, just… quiet.
He crossed to the window, looking out over the moonlit courtyard. From here, the academy seemed like a vast, sleeping beast, its towers and spires silvered under the night sky.
For the first time since the exam, he didn't feel the urge to keep moving. He sat on the edge of the bed, leaned back against the wall, and let out a long, steady breath.
That lingering heaviness in his chest… was still there, but lighter now. Manageable.
And as his eyes grew heavy, he realized something: tonight, for the first time in this world, he wasn't dreading sleep.