The carriage wheels rattled softly against the stone road.
I woke to that sound—dull, rhythmic, distant—like it belonged to another world. My body felt heavy. Not sore exactly. More like… hollow. As if everything inside me had been wrung out and put back wrong.
My eyes cracked open.
White canvas above me. The interior of a medical carriage.
"—he's awake."
Aelira's voice. Tight. Relieved.
I turned my head slightly. That was a mistake. Pain flared everywhere at once—my ribs, my chest, my arms, my head. I sucked in a breath and hissed through my teeth.
"Don't move," she said quickly, her gloved hand pressing gently but firmly against my shoulder. Frost shimmered faintly around her fingers, controlled, careful. "You're stitched. And stabilized. Barely."
"Knew it," Kai muttered from somewhere to my right. "He always wakes up at the worst timing."
"I heard that," I croaked.
"Good. Means your brain's still attached."
Varein laughed—then immediately groaned in pain for it. "Worth it."
I looked around properly this time.
We were all here.
Bandages. Slings. Crutches leaned against the carriage wall. Dried blood on uniforms that hadn't been fully cleaned—like no one had the heart to erase proof that it had all really happened.
Kazen was asleep, head tipped back, arm in a heavy brace.
Theon sat rigidly upright despite the wrap around his torso, eyes closed but brow furrowed like he was still holding the ground together in his dreams.
Seraphyne was curled on the bench opposite me, pink hair dulled without her flames, fingers clenched tight around the fabric of her coat.
Liraeth sat near the door, shield propped beside her, one arm wrapped thickly in bandages. Her mace rested against her knee, grip worn and cracked.
Instructor Aldred wasn't inside.
That realization hit harder than I expected.
"Where's—" I started.
"Outside," Varein answered quietly. "Riding with the knights. He's… stable. But he won't be training for a long while."
I nodded. Relief loosened something in my chest.
Good.
The carriage swayed as we passed through the outer gates of the capital.
Someone had drawn the curtains back.
The academy came into view.
The spires rose against the sky, familiar and unreal all at once. Banners fluttered in the spring wind—blue and silver, untouched by corruption, untouched by decay. Students lined the main road, second-years in slings, first-years standing stiffly, eyes wide as the procession of damaged carriages rolled through.
They stared.
Not in awe.
In silence.
We weren't heroes riding home.
We were survivors.
The carriage slowed.
Stopped.
Hands reached up to help us down one by one.
When my boots touched the stone, my legs nearly buckled.
Strong arms caught me immediately—Kai on one side, Varein on the other.
"Easy," Kai muttered. "Don't go dying now."
"Wasn't planning on it," I said weakly.
The courtyard was packed.
Director Raymond stood at the front, posture rigid, eyes sharp and tired. He didn't smile. He didn't speak.
He just bowed.
Deep.
Every instructor followed.
Every student followed.
The sound of fabric shifting and armor settling filled the air.
I froze.
"…what are they doing?" I whispered.
Seraphyne looked at me, eyes shining, lips trembling. "They're welcoming you home, idiot."
My throat tightened.
I looked down. Blood-stained gloves. Cracked sword hilt at my side. Hands that still felt like they were shaking even when they weren't.
I didn't deserve that bow.
We were escorted to the infirmary—again—but this time it felt different. Quieter. Heavier. Like the academy itself was holding its breath around us.
Hours blurred.
Healers came and went. Mana readings were taken. Wounds were rewrapped. I answered questions I barely remembered being asked.
Yes, the guardian fell.
Yes, the corruption mark vanished.
No, we didn't see who controlled it.
Eventually, they left me alone.
Night settled outside my window.
I sat on the edge of the infirmary bed, feet on the floor, staring at my hands.
They didn't look different.
But they felt it.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the Gaiadrake's eyes—not raging, not monstrous, but relieved. Free. I heard the forest exhale.
I also saw the white figure.
Faceless.
Waiting.
A soft knock broke the silence.
I looked up. "Come in."
The door opened.
Three figures stepped inside.
Sir Zenite entered first, tall and composed as ever, blue cape draped neatly over his shoulder. His presence alone made the room feel sharper, clearer—like a blade honed just by being nearby.
Behind him came Ma'dam Korrina, armor replaced by a formal coat, eyes keen and assessing, expression unreadable but not unkind.
And last—
Commander Mordred.
The room felt smaller with him in it.
Broad shoulders. Scarred face. Black mantle heavy with authority. His gaze settled on me, and for a moment, I felt like I was standing on the battlefield again—exposed, weighed, measured.
I stood instinctively.
Pain flared, but I ignored it.
"Sir. Ma'am. Commander."
Zenite raised a hand. "Sit. You've done enough standing for a lifetime this week."
I obeyed.
They didn't sit.
Korrina spoke first. "Rain."
Just my name.
No title.
No rank.
"That forest," she said, "has stood for over three hundred years. No first-year should have walked out of that alive."
Mordred's voice followed, low and even. "And yet you didn't just walk out. You ended it."
I swallowed. "With help."
Zenite's eyes softened slightly. "A knight who claims all glory is a fool. A knight who denies his own role is worse."
Silence stretched.
Then Mordred stepped closer.
He stopped in front of me.
"You disobeyed fear," he said. "You didn't retreat. You didn't break. Even when everyone else had."
His gaze sharpened. "Do you know what that means?"
I shook my head.
"It means," he said, "you stepped onto a path most never survive."
Zenite placed a hand on my shoulder—light, steady.
"Korrina and I have been watching you," he said. "Long before this mission."
Korrina nodded once. "What happened in that forest changes things. For you. For Class 1-S. For the academy."
My chest felt tight again. Not from pain.
From weight.
Mordred turned toward the door.
"Recover," he said. "Heal properly. Because when you're ready—"
He paused, glancing back over his shoulder.
"—the world will not leave you in peace."
The door closed behind them.
I sat there in the quiet.
Heart pounding.
Hands trembling.
Outside, the academy lights glowed warm against the night.
I leaned back slowly, exhaling.
I was back.
But something inside me knew—
I hadn't returned the same person who left.