The Sanctuary gates welcomed them without ceremony.
Stone arched over stone, ancient runes dormant in the daylight, as if the place itself understood that nothing needed to be proven anymore. Midarion barely registered the soft hum of wards recognizing Viktor's presence. His steps felt oddly distant, like he was following the memory of walking rather than the act itself.
Viktor noticed immediately.
They moved at an unhurried pace along the inner causeway, the pale stone warmed by the afternoon sun. The air smelled faintly of incense and clean water—Sanctuary scents, familiar enough to be comforting, distant enough to feel unreal after blood and corrupted breath.
"You know," Viktor said casually, hands folded behind his back, "from a tactical standpoint, the mission was… unnecessary."
Midarion blinked. "Unnecessary?"
Viktor nodded, gaze forward. "The beasts would have burned themselves out within days. Possession that crude rarely stabilizes."
Midarion frowned, then hesitated. "Then why—"
"Personally?" Viktor interrupted, a small smile touching his lips. "Entirely worth it."
That made Midarion look up.
Viktor didn't meet his eyes, but his tone softened. "I don't often get to see growth. Reports blur it. Time dulls it. But today?" He exhaled quietly. "I was glad I went."
Something warm and uncomfortable settled in Midarion's chest.
Before he could respond, the world tilted.
Not sharply—just enough to make the ground feel unreliable. His vision dimmed at the edges, light stretching too long, like it couldn't decide where to land. He stopped walking.
Viktor halted instantly. "There it is."
Midarion swallowed. "There what is?"
"Early backlash." Viktor turned fully now, studying him with professional calm. "Sit."
"I'm fine," Midarion said automatically, then felt his knees disagree.
Viktor guided him to a low stone bench beneath a cypress, movements practiced but not rough. "You used your Spirit far earlier than your body prefers," he said. "Dizziness. Fatigue. A mild sense that the world is… misaligned."
Midarion huffed weakly. "That's a very poetic way to say I feel awful."
Viktor smiled. "I've had centuries to refine my bedside manner."
Midarion leaned back, breathing slowly. Somewhere deep within him, Filandra stirred—not alarmed, just present. A quiet warmth beneath the exhaustion.
Viktor's gaze sharpened slightly. "About that," he said. "Filandra."
Midarion tensed despite himself.
"You didn't recite a formula," Viktor continued. "Not even a partial invocation."
"I didn't think," Midarion admitted. "I just… reached."
"And she answered," Viktor said. Not a question.
Midarion nodded.
Silence stretched. Not heavy. Considered.
"That," Viktor said at last, "is not something I have ever observed."
Midarion's stomach twisted. "Is that bad?"
Viktor hummed. "Unprecedented doesn't mean dangerous. But it does mean important." He glanced sideways. "You should deepen that bond. Carefully. With intent."
"How?" Midarion asked.
Viktor shrugged lightly. "Meditation. Awareness. Listening more than speaking." A pause. "You already do that better than most."
Midarion flushed faintly.
They sat quietly for a moment longer. Then Viktor stood.
"Come," he said. "Young wolf."
Midarion froze. "—What did you just call me?"
Viktor was already walking again. "Hm?"
"You called me something."
"I call many people many things."
"That wasn't many things," Midarion insisted, catching up. "That was specific."
Viktor waved a dismissive hand. "You're imagining intent."
Midarion wasn't. He was certain of it. The word lingered in his mind, oddly weighted, like a name remembered rather than invented.
But Viktor said nothing more.
At the inner hall, Viktor's demeanor shifted—not colder, but official. He instructed Midarion quietly to remain silent about the details of the mission.
"Not because of danger," Viktor added, noting his confusion. "Because some truths attract the wrong kind of attention."
"You trust me," Midarion said slowly.
"I do," Viktor replied without hesitation.
Midarion nodded, even though he didn't fully understand why that mattered so much.
The report was brief.
Viktor stood before the division with relaxed authority, describing a minor incident involving spirit-possessed beasts. Contained. Neutralized. No lingering corruption.
Midarion's name surfaced only once—and only as a witness.
Someone frowned. "If he was present, why isn't he being evaluated for recruitment?"
Viktor tilted his head. "That decision falls under Captain Aelyss's jurisdiction."
A few groans followed. Someone muttered about paperwork. The matter died there.
Later, the atmosphere shifted.
Someone noticed Midarion lingering too close to Viktor. Someone else smirked.
"Careful," a Sentinel laughed. "He's practically family at this point."
Midarion raised a brow. "I just walk fast."
"Sure you do," another chimed in. "Right behind Captain Aelyss too, I hear."
Midarion sighed theatrically. "I can't help it if important people keep walking in front of me."
Laughter rippled through the hall.
Viktor observed quietly, then remarked, almost to himself, "It's been a while since the division sounded like this."
"You mean alive?" someone joked.
Viktor smiled. "Yes."
When someone asked where Midarion would be stationed while Aelyss was away, Viktor replied smoothly, "With me."
Midarion gaped. "Excuse me?"
"My attendant," Viktor added. "Temporary."
Midarion spluttered. "You absolute narcissistic pervert."
The room exploded with laughter.
The gates opened later that evening.
This year's recruits filtered in, dust-streaked and grinning.
Reikika spotted Midarion and ran—no hesitation, no restraint. She nearly knocked the breath from him.
"You're still alive!" she said unnecessarily.
"So are you," he replied, smiling despite himself.
Lior approached more calmly, but his eyes were bright. "Hydros is insane," he said immediately. "The water moves differently there."
Reikika talked over him. "The light refracts through the canals like it's alive. And the Sanctum—Midarion, it's beautiful."
Midarion listened, genuinely happy, awe settling quietly in his chest.
"Oh," he said casually when they paused. "I had a mission too."
They stared.
"You what?" Reikika demanded.
"Nothing big," he said. "Possessed beasts. Viktor came along."
Lior groaned. "You're kidding."
Reikika crossed her arms. "We go to Hydros and you almost die?"
"I didn't almost die," Midarion protested.
"Yet," she shot back.
They laughed. Teased. Promised to compare scars later.
The days blurred after that.
Two weeks passed.
Midarion settled into a rhythm as Viktor's attendant—training, errands, observation. Viktor made things easier without saying so, redirecting tasks, offering advice in passing.
Filandra grew quieter but deeper. Meditation became less effort, more conversation.
Occasionally, Viktor watched him with unreadable eyes and offered a single sentence that lingered for days.
Time moved.
And as Captain Aelyss's return drew closer, Midarion realized something strange.
He wasn't anxious.
He was… looking forward to it.
The thought surprised him.
And for once, he let it stay.