Ronan lay stretched across a folded blanket, his body still heavy with the aftermath of depletion, his head resting in Samantha's lap. The faint scent of smoke and damp earth clung to the air inside the tent, mingling with the softer, familiar fragrance of her clothes. Her fingers moved gently through his hair, careful, almost hesitant—as if afraid he might break under too much pressure.
"Take some rest," she whispered, brushing a stray strand from his forehead.
Ronan's lips curved into a faint, crooked smile. "Don't worry… what could happen to me?" His voice was dry, edged with fatigue. "I just emptied my entire Aether reserve and passed out. Minor inconvenience."
A quiet breath escaped her—half a laugh, half something tighter. Her fingers paused for the briefest moment before resuming their slow rhythm. "You always say things like that," she murmured, though her gaze lingered on his face longer than necessary.
She withdrew her hand and gestured toward a nearby tent. "I'll be over there. If you need anything, call me."
Kael stood just outside, arms crossed, posture steady, his presence filling the space with quiet vigilance. "Don't worry too much," he said evenly. "I'll keep an eye on them."
Samantha nodded, though her eyes drifted back to Ronan once more—just a second too long—before she turned and stepped out with Lyra, the tent flap rustling softly as it fell shut behind them.
Silence settled in.
Ronan's gaze shifted to Kael. "Did you talk to Oliver?"
Kael's expression tightened almost instantly. He looked away, jaw flexing. "How can I?" he muttered. "After what he did…"
Ronan exhaled slowly and pushed himself upright. Every movement was deliberate, controlled, the lingering weakness still evident in the slight tremor of his arms. He folded his legs beneath him, spine straightening as his eyes closed.
"You should talk to him."
Kael frowned, watching him. "You're serious?"
Ronan didn't open his eyes. His voice remained calm, but there was weight behind it—something grounded in experience rather than opinion. "Hatred doesn't disappear overnight. But it can spiral out of control in a single one." A pause. "Oliver made a mistake. The Evil Eye twisted him—but that doesn't mean he's fine now."
Kael's fingers curled slightly against his arms.
"He's probably alone right now," Ronan continued. "And thinking too much." His brow tightened faintly. "You don't need to lecture him. Just… be there. He's your cousin."
Kael stared at him, something unreadable passing through his eyes. "You're talking like a sage."
A dry huff escaped Ronan. His hands slowly clenched into fists, knuckles whitening. "I have people I hate, too," he said, quieter now. "The kind where just seeing them makes you want to tear everything apart."
The air in the tent seemed to be still.
"And not being able to act on it…" His jaw tightened. "It eats at you."
For a moment, nothing moved.
Then his shoulders loosened, just slightly.
"But Samantha and Kairos…" he added, softer now. "They didn't let me stay like that."
Kael blinked, the tension in his face easing. A small, genuine smile tugged at his lips. "Alright," he said. "I'll go."
Ronan gave a faint nod.
Kael stepped out, the tent flap falling shut once more.
The moment it did, the atmosphere shifted.
Ronan's expression hardened, his voice dropping into something colder, sharper. "Darius," he said without opening his eyes. "Are you sleeping?"
A visible shiver ran through Darius' body.
Slowly, he turned his head, eyes darting toward Ronan, who still sat motionless in meditation. "H-Hey… Ronan?" he said with a strained chuckle.
One of Ronan's eyes snapped open.
The glare that followed made Darius sit up straighter instantly.
"Idiot," Ronan muttered. "Do you have any idea how close you were to exposing yourself?" His gaze was piercing now. "If anyone realises you've advanced, what's your excuse going to be?"
Darius swallowed and shifted into a cross-legged position, pressing his hands against his knees to steady them. "I… I'm sorry. I acted on impulse. If that attack had hit you—"
"Thanks," Ronan cut in.
Darius blinked.
"Don't repeat yourself," Ronan added, his tone softer now, though no less firm.
A small smile crept onto Darius' face. "Got it."
A short distance away, the campfire crackled, its flames casting shifting shadows across the ground.
Oliver sat alone beside it.
His hands hovered over the fire, fingers trembling slightly as he tried to guide the flames. They twisted under his will for a moment—flickering, stretching unnaturally—before snapping out of alignment with a sharp, rebellious crack.
The fire scattered.
Frustration surged through him. He slammed his fist into the dirt. "Even he could do it…" he muttered under his breath. "Why can't I?"
"Oliver."
He stiffened.
Kael approached slowly, stopping just within the glow of the firelight.
Oliver turned, surprise flashing across his face—quickly replaced by something heavier. Memory surged up uninvited. The attack. Ronan. Darius.
His gaze dropped.
"You here to scold me?" he asked, voice flat. "Or drag me to apologise? Fine. Let's just get it over with."
Kael didn't answer.
Instead, he lowered himself and sat beside him.
That alone made Oliver glance up again, caught off guard.
"How are you feeling?" Kael asked.
"I'm… fine," Oliver replied automatically. The word felt hollow even as it left his mouth. He shook his head, voice cracking slightly. "I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me. I couldn't control it."
Kael nodded. "The Evil Eye technique—"
But Oliver wasn't listening anymore.
His thoughts spiralled inward, dragging him away from the moment.
"All my life…" he murmured, voice quieter now, distant. "I've been standing behind you. Lyra. Selena."
The fire flickered in his eyes.
"You had Mist. Rare, even if people called it useless. Lyra had the Fire Goddess's blessing. Selena…" he let out a breath, "Selena didn't even need anything else. Her Aether alone was enough."
His fingers dug into the dirt.
"And me?" A bitter smile twisted his lips. "Dual-element. Something people celebrate. But somehow… not in my case."
Kael remained silent.
"At the academy, I thought things would change," Oliver continued. "If I caught Amara ma'am's attention…" He laughed softly, without humour. "A year passed. Nothing."
His gaze darkened.
"Then Eleanor arrived."
The flames shifted again.
"A branch family member," he said, almost incredulous. "And within days… she became her favourite."
Kael's eyes narrowed slightly.
"And now there's Ronan," Oliver whispered. "A single-element fire user."
His stare hardened, fixed deep within the fire.
"Yet somehow… outside the academy… she treats him like family."
Kael watched him, the weight of those words settling between them like ash.
Alden, Alaric, Felix, and Lady Ishalune stood before the barrier as Roderik worked relentlessly against it. Runes flared and crackled, resisting every attempt to dismantle them, their light reflecting sharply across the group's faces.
Alden's gaze drifted, unfocused for a moment before sharpening again. "The visions…" he murmured. "They're gone."
Alaric turned. "Gone?"
Alden nodded slowly, folding his arms as if grounding himself. "After we eliminated the Evil Eye user, they started fading. Now… nothing."
"That's good, isn't it?" Alaric said, though his tone carried a hint of uncertainty.
Lady Ishalune didn't share the relief. Her eyes narrowed slightly, thoughtful. "Those visions… they showed the destruction of this city, didn't they?"
Alden inclined his head. "Yes. But it didn't feel like a warning." His brow furrowed. "More like… a memory."
Felix leaned forward, interest piqued. "You think Keen Eye can show the past?"
Alden rubbed his chin. "I picked it up because it had low Aether cost. Didn't expect it to come with mysteries like that." A faint, self-deprecating chuckle followed. "And no—I doubt it can."
"It can," Lady Ishalune said calmly.
All three turned toward her.
"But only under very specific conditions," she continued. "Conditions so rare that most never encounter them. That skill… like many ancient ones… is incomplete. Fragmented."
Alden let out a low whistle. "Great. So I've been walking around with something I don't understand."
Her gaze shifted, studying him more closely. "You're from Serenwyn Academy, aren't you?"
Alaric answered this time. "We are."
"And Ronan?" she asked.
Alden nodded.
She exhaled slowly, glancing toward the distant tents. "I've been sealed away for too long, it seems. Does the academy accept single-element users now?"
Alden shook his head. "No. He's an exception. Special recommendation."
"At least they're supporting him properly," she said.
Alaric gave a quiet snort. "If you call a monthly essence stone allotment and a handful of skill scrolls support."
Lady Ishalune's brows lifted slightly. "Then his flames—?"
"He built everything himself," Alden said, a note of pride slipping into his voice. "Hunted, absorbed, refined. No one handed him anything."
Her gaze lingered in the direction of Ronan's tent, interest deepening. "He becomes more intriguing the more I hear." A faint smile curved her lips. "I think I'll stay at the academy for a few days."
The others glanced at her.
"I'd like to meet his teachers," she added casually. "Especially the ones responsible for shaping that… unusual foundation."
Alden's chest puffed up slightly.
Her eyes flicked back to him, sharp now. "Whoever thought it wise to combine Ovid Overdive, Sky Splitter, and Keen Eye… I'd very much like to speak with them."
Alden froze.
Alaric slowly turned his head toward him.
Felix followed.
Even Lady Ishalune's gaze lingered, something like suspicion creeping in.
Alden raised both hands immediately. "Don't look at me like that! I only taught him swordsmanship—nothing else. When Ronan arrived, he already had Ovid Overdive and Sky Splitter!"
There was a beat of silence.
Then—
Felix broke first, a laugh escaping him.
Alaric followed, shoulders shaking.
Even Lady Ishalune let out a soft, amused breath.
Alden stood there, caught between indignation and embarrassment, his expression tightening as the laughter grew.
"…You're all impossible," he muttered.
Near the tents, Lyra stepped quietly out after checking on Samantha, who had finally fallen asleep.
The night air was cool against her skin, carrying the faint crackle of fire and distant voices.
Her steps slowed when she spotted Kael and Oliver speaking together.
Surprise flickered across her face.
After everything that had happened… she hadn't expected this.
She hesitated, then shook her head lightly. "Later," she thought. "Let them talk."
Turning, she made her way toward Ronan's tent.
But it was empty.
Her brows drew together.
A faint glow caught her attention.
Just outside, Ronan stood with Darius, a wisp of purple flame dancing lazily above his fingertip. It pulsed softly, casting an eerie, shifting light across his face.
He flicked it between his fingers, eyes gleaming. "Be my test subject."
Darius leaned back immediately. "Nope. Absolutely not. I heard that thing messes with your head."
Ronan shrugged. "That's what makes it interesting."
The flame hovered, almost alive.
Ronan's expression shifted slightly. "Why are you hiding?" he said, voice low. "If you need something, ask."
Darius froze. "Who are you talking to?"
Ronan chuckled. "You just fought a Hollowed Spirit. And now you're scared of ghosts?"
Darius scooted closer. "Spirits are simple. Ghosts mess with your mind."
Ronan's grin sharpened. "This one definitely does."
"Stop it," Darius muttered, scanning the darkness.
"You're more lively than I expected."
Both of them turned.
Lyra stood there, arms crossed, her expression dark.
The flame vanished instantly from Ronan's hand.
He gave a slight bow. "How may I help you, Lady Lyra?"
Her jaw tightened. "I came to check on you."
"We're doing great," Ronan replied casually.
He folded his arms. "Then don't hide. I don't like being watched."
Lyra raised a brow. "Why would I watch you?"
Ronan smirked. "Overwhelming handsomeness, perhaps."
Before she could respond, Darius lunged forward and clamped a hand over Ronan's mouth. "Ignore him," he said quickly. "He's recovering—from stupidity."
Ronan struggled, muffled protests escaping him.
Darius offered an apologetic smile. "Thanks for checking on us. We're fine."
Lyra inhaled slowly, visibly restraining herself. "Sometimes I wonder how you're related to Samantha," she said. "You're her complete opposite."
She turned sharply and walked away.
As her footsteps faded, her thoughts churned.
"Ronan's perception… sharp. Uncomfortably so. His personality?"
She exhaled through her nose.
Infuriating.
"I don't know how Samantha tolerates him," she thought, though the faintest trace of something else lingered beneath the irritation—something she chose not to examine.