The afternoon sun slanted through the windows of the infirmary, spilling golden light across the marble floor. A gentle breeze stirred the white curtains, carrying with it the scent of wild lilacs from the gardens below.
Saphine stirred in her bed, her eyelids fluttering open for the first time in five days.
Her world came back in fragments — light, sound, then the faint ache in her body. When she finally focused, the room came into view: a quiet chamber of the Veltharion Academy's central ward, reinforced with layers of aether wards and soft glowing runes that pulsed in rhythm with her heartbeat.
She slowly sat up, grimacing as the lingering pain reminded her of the battle that had nearly taken her life.Her eyes traced the pale ceiling for a moment, then drifted to the lone figure seated beside her bed.
Eris Vale.
Except… not quite.
He wasn't wearing his usual dark uniform or composed, aloof expression. His white hair was tousled, his posture relaxed, and his lips curved in the faintest of smiles as he flipped through a book held upside down.
When he noticed her gaze, he smirked.
"You're awake. About time — I was starting to think I'd have to read you bedtime stories forever."
Saphine blinked, her throat dry. "…You can read?"
Eris arched an eyebrow. "That's what you choose to say after almost dying?"
"...You didn't answer the question," she muttered, trying not to smile.
He chuckled — actually chuckled. It startled her. Eris had always felt untouchable, otherworldly — a shadow who moved through the world like a whisper. Now he felt… alive.
He stood and poured a cup of water for her, the movement easy and fluid. She noticed then that something was different — not just his demeanor, but his presence. His aura no longer rippled with endless foresight and pressure. Instead, it felt centered, calm — yet infinitely deep, as if the ocean itself had decided to rest in human form.
"Drink," he said, handing her the cup."You've been asleep for five days."
Her eyes widened. "Five— days?"
He nodded. "You lost a lot of blood. And a fair bit of your patience, judging by the way you kicked during treatment."
Saphine froze. "…You were there?"
Eris grinned. "Someone had to make sure you didn't explode in your sleep."
"Explode?!"
"Your Echo went wild when I stabilized you," he explained casually. "You're lucky I still have most of my eyebrows."
Saphine stared at him, unsure whether to laugh or hit him with the pillow beside her. "You're impossible."
He sat down on the edge of her bed, leaning back with one hand behind his head.
"Impossible, maybe. But effective."
Silence followed — warm, unhurried. The kind that felt like sunrise after a storm.
She studied him carefully.His silver hair caught the sunlight, his eyes glowing faintly with a tranquil blue light. There was none of that cold detachment she'd grown used to. Even his voice carried a faint lilt — like someone rediscovering how to speak freely.
"You've changed," she murmured finally.
He tilted his head. "I did warn you that my Echo was evolving."
"That's not what I mean," she said softly. "You're… different. You sound like a normal person."
He smirked. "Normal's subjective. But yes — I suppose this is what it feels like to stop being a ghost."
Saphine frowned. "A ghost?"
Eris's smile dimmed slightly, his eyes distant.
"For a long time, I could see everything. Every outcome, every path… except my own. I thought knowing everything would protect me."He glanced at her, the warmth returning to his gaze."Turns out, all it did was make me forget how to live."
His honesty struck something deep in her chest.Eris — the shadow who had moved like an enigma — sounded almost vulnerable.
"So… what changed?"
He met her gaze, the corner of his lips lifting.
"You did."
Saphine's breath hitched. "I— what?"
"When you fought beside me, you didn't care about what you couldn't see. You just believed."He looked away, a faint, rueful laugh escaping him. "And somewhere in that chaos, I realized knowing the future means nothing if you've forgotten how to be part of the present."
His words lingered, soft yet heavy with meaning.Then, after a long pause, he smiled — genuinely, lightly, beautifully.
"So, I made a choice. I shed the burden of seeing everything… and decided to start feeling instead."
Saphine's heart trembled."So this is your new form?" she whispered.
He nodded, standing slowly as golden light framed him.
"All-Knowing Sage — Akasha. Not the one who sees everything, but the one who understands what must be seen."
He extended a hand to her.
"Now, let's get you walking again before you forget how."
Saphine glared at him. "You're enjoying this too much."
"Watching you wobble? Only slightly."
"Eris!"
"Fine, fine—" he said with mock surrender, steadying her by the shoulders as she tried to stand. Her legs trembled slightly, but his grip was firm — steady, warm, reassuring.
The moment lingered.Too long.Too close.
She looked up at him — really looked — and for a brief, dangerous moment, the world around them disappeared. His eyes, always unreadable before, now reflected something unmistakably human.
"Thank you," she whispered. "For saving me."
He smiled faintly.
"I told you before, didn't I? You're terrible at dying."
Saphine flushed. "That's not funny."
"It is to me," he replied, his grin widening. "You should've seen your face when—"
She shoved him lightly, and he laughed again — a bright, unrestrained sound that startled even him.
"Don't laugh like that," she mumbled, cheeks red. "It's weird."
"Weird?" He leaned closer, teasing. "Or charming?"
"Both!"
"I'll take it."
They bickered for a while, the kind of easy, playful rhythm that felt so foreign yet so natural. Each word, each smile, each teasing remark chipped away at the unspoken wall between them.
And beneath all the laughter, there was something raw and unspoken — the quiet relief of two people who had stood too close to death and found life again.
As the evening deepened, Eris helped her onto the balcony overlooking the academy courtyard.Lanterns flickered below, casting gentle light over the quiet gardens. A sky of endless violet stretched above them.
Saphine leaned against the railing, her hair catching the wind. Eris stood beside her, silent for a moment, before speaking softly.
"You know… I've seen countless sunsets. Worlds ending, stars being born… but this?"He exhaled, eyes softening. "This is the first one that feels real."
She smiled faintly. "That's a very poetic thing to say for someone who almost died of exhaustion."
"Don't ruin the moment."
"You ruin every moment yourself," she shot back.
"Fair point," he said with a grin. "But you're smiling. So I win."
Saphine turned away quickly, hiding her face in the fading light.
"You're impossible."
Eris leaned on the railing beside her.
"And yet you're still here."
They stayed like that, watching the stars bloom above the horizon.
And for the first time since everything began, the silence between them wasn't heavy or sharp — it was gentle. Alive.
Later, as the night deepened, Saphine fell asleep again — this time peacefully.Eris stood by her bedside, his expression unreadable. The faint glow of his Echo danced around him — the mark of Akasha, the Sage who no longer feared time.
He brushed a strand of hair from her face and whispered quietly:
"Thank you… for making me remember what it means to be alive."
Then, for the first time in centuries, Eris Vale smiled not out of courtesy — but out of peace.