The rain had stopped a few minutes ago, but the scent of damp earth still clung to the air, thick with moisture. Inside the narrow stone fissure, Noah and Syl remained close, the silence stretching.
Noah glanced at Syl, who was quietly rubbing her arms as if trying to warm herself.
I can't believe I put someone else in danger again... and worse, someone who's been nothing but kind to me. Someone who holds no prejudice — only gentleness.
Remember what Master said. Channel the rage. Let the vengeance drive you — but never let it consume you or hurt others.
Carefully, Noah reached into his pack and pulled out a spare jacket. He hesitated for a second, then stood and stepped toward her.
"Here. For earlier. Looks like you're cold. Can I?"
Syl nodded softly, her voice caught somewhere between surprise and gratitude.
He draped the jacket over her shoulders with deliberate care. His hands brushed her upper arms where the armor didn't reach, the touch fleeting but sincere.
Then he sat back down, leaning against the stone.
"We should wait a little longer before going back out," he said. "There's no telling if it'll start again."
Syl nodded again, quietly. She didn't speak, but the gesture said everything.
Noah leaned his head back and closed his eyes.
She sat stiffly, trying to compose herself — but her thoughts were scattered. Under the weight of the jacket, her skin tingled. Not from the cold… but from the memory of his touch. Her cheeks and ears burned, flushed with a soft, rosy red, like someone who had just stepped out of a hot bath.
What just happened…?
By the Ancestors, my heart won't stop racing…
Her pulse was frantic, as though she'd just escaped capture — but instead of fear, it was something warm that filled her chest. The jacket smelled faintly of herbs and mint. Familiar, steady. Comforting.
She pulled it tighter around her, curling slightly as she sank into the fabric — the warmth and security wrapping around her like a small shelter. A feeling she hadn't let herself feel in a long, long time.
It's so much easier when he's distant or cold.
But when he's gentle like this? I just stood there like a statue, nodding like an idiot. I really hope he didn't notice…
And besides…
She looked at him again — eyes closed now, dark curls falling over part of his face, jaw relaxed, finally at peace.
Why does he have to be so handsome?
Stop it, Syl. You know what's waiting for you outside the academy. You know your responsibilities. You're the heir.
But then her gaze softened again.
Still… just looking doesn't hurt. And there's still three years left once we enter the Academy. Maybe by then, my older sister will change her mind and take back the line of succession.
Her expression softened — then shifted. A flicker of sadness passed over her features. For a brief moment, the weight she carried as a princess — the one who had always been told to put duty before joy — sat visibly on her shoulders.
But then she drew a quiet breath, and her gaze grew clear.
No. Not here. Here, I'm just another student. Not a princess. Not an heir. Just Syl. I'll follow Mother's advice and focus on living this life. The one I choose. The one I want. Inside this Academy, I get to be me.
After hour, they stepped out of the stone fissure in silence, the air still heavy with the scent of magic and damp earth. Syl adjusted the jacket over her shoulders, brushing her fingers along the sleeves before holding it out to him.
"You can have this back now."
Noah shook his head once, eyes on the path ahead.
"Keep it. At least until we're out of the labyrinth."
Syl blinked, then pulled the jacket a little closer to her body, saying nothing.
They walked for a while without speaking, until Noah broke the silence, his tone thoughtful.
"Before those shadow creatures appeared… I think I saw something ahead. The corridor changed somehow. It didn't feel like the others."
They picked up their pace, turning corner after corner until they reached a new section — wider, dimmer. The walls there weren't still.
It was breathing.
The walls didn't just shift — the ground itself moved in massive segments, like a puzzle being solved in real time. Stone slabs slid into place with soft, mechanical clicks, then sank again, revealing brief glimpses of blackness below. It wasn't just rearranging itself. It was testing them. Warning them: you're on the right path, but one wrong step... and it all ends here.
Noah crouched at the edge of the first shifting platform, scanning for markings, clues — anything.
Nothing. Great. One year of training, taught by the most dangerous warrior in the realm... and I'm still useless when it matters.
No. No, I can do this. I'm not that kid anymore.
He stood and glanced over his shoulder.
"I think I found a way through. Just let me check something—"
Syl stared at him, unmoved.
He's lying... why is he lying?
Noah stepped forward, holding his breath — praying the platform would stay still long enough for him to spot something useful. But the moment he lifted his foot, the stone shifted beneath him, sliding open into darkness.
He froze.
The drop beneath was endless — a depth so dark, so still, he could swear something inside it looked back at him.
Then — a sudden tug on his jacket. A hand pulled him back hard, grounding him.
"Would you stop with the 'proud warrior' attitude? If you need help, just say it. Don't you think you can trust me?"
Her words hit him like a punch to the gut. He turned, guilt rising in his throat.
"It's not that. I do trust you. It's just... you've already saved me twice. And I was arrogant when we came in here. Thought you'd be the one slowing us down. But now? All I can do is follow sand trails — and even that's not working anymore."
She sighed and flicked his forehead — a clean, confident snap that shattered the weight in the air. For a brief moment, he saw his master again — not her face, just the feeling she gave off when she first knocked the arrogance out of him.
Syl held up the jacket he'd given her earlier.
"See this? You gave it to me. So I wouldn't get cold."
Then she pointed at the trail ahead, where the floor segments ended.
"And that? That's where your tracking got us. I hate to admit it, but if it weren't for you, I'd probably be on my way back home by now. There's nothing worse than a labyrinth for someone with no sense of direction." She paused, then added, softer, "And I really hope you erase that sentence from your memory."
Noah chuckled, the tension in his shoulders finally softening.
"Thanks. And don't worry — I didn't hear a word about you being the most directionally hopeless person in the entire Southern Kingdoms."
She squinted and raised a finger. "I never said I was the most—"
She stopped herself.
Noah smiled. "Exactly. You never said it."
Syl rolled her eyes and gave his arm a light punch.
"Idiot."
"Now be quiet."
He opened his mouth to ask why, but she raised one finger, silencing him. He backed off, watching her carefully.
Her face shifted.
The warmth and softness vanished — replaced by focus and sharpness. She dropped to one knee, tilted her head, and closed her eyes. One ear twitched slightly. When her eyes opened again, they weren't green. A soft violet glow shimmered across her irises, dancing like tiny lights suspended in water.
Noah didn't understand what was happening, but something told him: Don't move. Don't even breathe. Just trust her.
After several long seconds, her eyes returned to their deep green.
Noah looked at her — just as her eyes dimmed back to green — and his breath caught. Something about them, that deep green, felt like drowning in an endless forest. It stirred something in him — a feeling he couldn't name. He didn't know why, but the moment he looked into them, a strange warmth bloomed in his chest.
Something nostalgic. Like catching a scent you love — familiar and comforting — but no matter how hard you try, you can't quite remember where it came from.
She stood, pulling him back from his thoughts.
"There are dozens of parts moving in random sequences. It'd be impossible to pass through under normal conditions—"
Noah crossed his arms.
"In that case, we'd have to find another—" She interrupted, maintaining a sharp voice.
"I said if it were normal, but I have a skill that lets me focus all my senses in one direction for a few seconds. And thanks to you," she tugged the jacket lightly, "the cold didn't get in the way. I could focus only in one sense and hear clearly. The pieces move randomly — but the gears powering them don't. There's a rhythm."
She turned to him, eyes serious, voice sharper — like a general planning a battle, but leaving space for her ally to step up.
"You just have to follow my lead, repeating exactly what I'll do. If you can do that, we'll make it through."
"You have my word," Noah said, giving a mock bow. "Ladies first."
Her face softened, and her voice turned playful.
"How very noble of you," she replied, nudging his shoulder as she passed.
Syl glanced back and gave a small nod before moving forward.
Quick, calculated steps. Left. Pause. Right. Duck low. Turn sharply. Her feet barely touched the ground as she advanced, eyes focused, each movement timed to the shifting rhythm of the labyrinth. Noah followed close behind, unsure whether he should be impressed or worried. But she didn't hesitate — her steps were precise, almost as if she could see the maze forming before it moved.
Stone groaned around them. The walls and floors twisted and rearranged with heavy clicks and soft rumbles beneath their feet. At one point, a gap opened inches from Noah's heel, revealing a drop into darkness. He stumbled, caught himself, and kept going.
They pressed forward like ghosts dancing between collapsing ruins.
After long minutes, their path closed behind them with a final slam, sealing off the chaos.
They emerged into a narrow corridor. At the end was a single stone passage — long, enclosed, and cut by a massive wall that opened and shut every few seconds. The sound of grinding gears echoed through the tunnel.
It was tight. Risky.
One wrong step, and you'd be crushed.
Syl stepped forward, eyes scanning the mechanism. She could barely see a lever on the other side of the corridor.
"If we can calculate the right timing, we can reach the lever on the other side and—"
But Noah didn't wait.
The instant the wall began to open, he slipped through, the movement so quick it almost looked effortless. He glanced over his shoulder as he walked deeper into the deadly corridor.
"Trust me," he said.
There was something in his voice.
It wasn't a lie. But inside, she knew — something was off.
"Wait!" Syl lunged to grab his sleeve, but her fingers only grazed the fabric as it slipped from her grip.
The wall began to close.
Each of his steps seemed to pull it faster, like the maze itself responded to his presence — hungry to trap him.
The corridor lit up with flickers of red from the pressure runes along the edges. Warning sigils pulsed.
Syl's heart pounded louder with every inch it dropped. Her fingers curled into fists.
No. No, he's not gonna make it—
Please, don't take him away, not again…
He was right there — and he could die at any moment. And all she could do was watch. Each fiber of her being burned like millions of needles under her skin.
The dense essence particles made her vision blur. She couldn't tell where he was…
Her ear twitched as she listened to the engine. It turned, one last time — then the wall slammed shut with a deafening crack.
"Noah!"
Her voice echoed through the labyrinth as tears began to form at the corners of her eyes…
She leaned on the stone, when she listened a different click. The grinding of gears echoed through the corridor as the wall slowly opened — now locked in place.
Syl marched forward, her face pale with fury. Noah stood by the lever, catching his breath.
He looked up just in time to see her saber flash and press lightly to the base of his throat, pinning him back against the wall.
His eyes widened. "Syl—?"
Her voice trembled — not with weakness, but with the weight of everything unsaid.
"If you want to die, I can help with that," she snapped. "I know you've been through things. I know you lost your grandmother. But what you just did—" Her jaw clenched. "That wasn't bravery. That was self-destruction."
Noah didn't move.
"You could've died," she continued, eyes shining with a mix of anger and something deeper. "Is that what you want? Because if it is, don't make me care about you. Don't pretend we're a team."
He didn't answer.
"I thought you were starting to trust me."
Her voice cracked.
"I may not have known your grandmother, Noah… but I know she wouldn't be proud of you risking your life like this. Not for nothing."
The words hit him like cold steel.
He lowered his eyes, chest tightening — and suddenly, he was no longer in the labyrinth.
Ten Months Ago – Wenelor Forest, west of the Human Kingdom
"Hey, kiddo, are you even listening? I said five more—let's go!"
Two months had passed since Noah began his training.
He was doing push-ups with a boulder strapped to his back, sweat dripping steadily onto the forest floor.
"I am... not," he grunted, finishing the fifth rep and letting the rock fall to the side. He collapsed onto his back, panting. "And I'm not a kid. I'll be nineteen in six months... You know that Flamehope."
Flamehope smirked from where she stood, arms crossed.
"Then stop acting like one. And Already said to call me Master am not your friend, you are my apprentice and we are not in a playground. On your feet—we've got a full day ahead."
She tossed him a waterskin, and he caught it midair.
"Today's task is simple," she said, tightening the straps on her bracers. "You'll track and defeat a young Grimfang. Alone. No shortcuts. No improvisation. If the back spines curve inward or the fangs are overgrown, that means it's too old. Avoid it. Understood?"
Noah nodded once, wiping his forehead. "Yes, Master."
Hours later, the wind howled across a mountain clearing.
Flamehope stood with her arms crossed. Her eyes were locked on the trail of blood painting the grass.
Noah limped up the hill, dragging his foot, a deep gash running along his side. His clothes were torn, soaked in sweat and blood. Behind him, the massive body of a Grimfang Elder lay still — scarred, weathered, and far beyond what any trainee should have faced.
He was smiling, scars all over his body a s bleeding.
Barely upright, he forced himself closer.
"I did it," he panted. "You said I had to kill a Grimfang. I went beyond. I beat an Elder."
He looked proud.
Flamehope didn't speak. She stepped forward and kicked him hard in the ribs.
The blow sent him crashing to the ground, gasping for breath.
"You beat an Elder?" she snapped. "Congratulations. You're officially the stupidest apprentice I've ever trained."
Noah groaned, trying to sit up, but she dropped to one knee, grabbed the front of his shirt, and yanked him close.
"You think vengeance means ignoring every instruction I give you? That proving yourself means almost dying?"
Her voice dropped — colder now, deadly calm.
"You want revenge? Fine. I won't judge that. But I won't train someone who doesn't value their own life."
She let go, rising again.
"Your grandmother didn't raise you for this. She didn't carry you through sickness and nightmares just so you could throw yourself into death the moment things got hard."
Noah lay still.
The adrenaline had worn off. The pain was blooming now — but it was nothing compared to the quiet in Flamehope's voice when she said:
"If you really want to honor her, Noah… then stay alive."
The Present – Trial Labyrinth, Elven Summoner's Academy
The memory faded like smoke, and Noah blinked slowly, eyes adjusting once more to the labyrinth.
Syl was still standing there — a few steps away, eyes narrowed, lips pressed into a tight line. Her saber had been sheathed, but her expression remained sharp, hurt shimmering behind the fire.
She met his gaze, he made a smir, then she turned sharply, clearly done with the conversation.
But before she could walk away, Noah let instinct guide him.
He reached out — not with force, but with quiet gentleness — and his hand closed softly around hers.
"Wait," he said, voice low. "Don't go."
Syl froze.
Her breath caught. His touch wasn't demanding — it was... hesitant. Warm. Like someone who didn't know if he deserved to ask anything, but needed to try anyway.
"I wasn't trying to kill myself not on purpose at least," he continued. "I swear."
She didn't turn around.
"I just remembered something. My master—she once gave me a scolding almost exactly like that. You reminded me of her and what she told me."
He let go of her hand slowly and stepped toward the lever, leaning against the wall. His voice stayed quiet, not trying to convince her — just offering.
"Can you give me a chance to explain? I think you deserve to hear the whole story."
Syl looked over her shoulder, conflicted. Her chest was tight, her cheeks still flushed from anger and something she didn't want to name yet.
But she walked toward him.
And sat beside him.
Crossed her arms.
"I hope you're not about to feed me some stupid excuse," she said, her voice laced with warning — but softer than before.
Noah gave her a small nod, the corner of his mouth lifting just slightly.
"No excuses — Just the truth."