The infirmary smelled faintly of mint and healing incense. The soft glow of restoration runes warmed the walls, casting thin reflections across the white floor. Arven stepped inside slowly, still feeling the weight of the day on his shoulders. His muscles were tired; his mind even more so.
Arelia was sitting on one of the beds, her posture straight despite the small bandages wrapped around her arms. The bruises were faint—nothing compared to what she had endured in training before—but she still looked unusually still, as if carrying a silence too heavy to drop.
Elara sat beside her, talking quietly. When Arven entered, both of them turned.
Arelia lifted her head. She couldn't see him through the dark cloth binding her eyes, but she felt his presence instantly.
"You're walking weird," she said softly. "You're exhausted again."
Arven let out a short breath. "You shouldn't be the one saying that. You were the one blowing up half the arena."
Elara smiled slightly. She watched the two siblings interact with a mix of familiarity and relief — relief that Arelia was fine, relief that Arven still had someone else in this world who cared for him.
Arelia tilted her head toward Elara. "He pretends he's fine even when he's about to fall over. You noticed that too, right?"
Elara nodded. "Every day."
Arven placed a hand over his heart dramatically. "You two teaming up against me? In my moment of weakness?"
Arelia's lips curved in a rare, small smile. "You make it too easy."
For a moment, that was enough — the three of them sitting in the warm quiet of the infirmary, the tension of the fights slowly dissolving.
Arven looked at Arelia more carefully. "Does it still hurt?"
"Not really," she answered. "The healers are good. And you were there watching… so it didn't feel as bad as it should."
Elara glanced at Arven, knowing exactly what she meant. Their presence had begun to anchor one another in ways none of them fully understood yet.
Eventually, Arelia stretched her shoulders and leaned back on the pillow. "You two should eat something. You're both starving."
Arven looked at Elara, and she understood the unspoken invitation instantly.
"Should we go together?" she asked.
"Yeah," he replied. "Let's get something good today."
Arelia crossed her arms. "Bring me dessert when you come back."
"We will," Elara promised.
Arven and Elara left the infirmary and walked through the lantern-lit path leading to the academy's outer district. The evening breeze was cool, brushing lightly against their faces. The city lights flickered like soft stars.
They reached a cozy restaurant near the district gate — warm lights, wooden tables, the smell of roasted herbs drifting from inside. As they stepped through the entrance, Arven froze for half a second.
Kael and Lyra were already seated at a corner table.
Kael spotted them first. "Hey! Arven! Elara! Over here!"
Lyra waved enthusiastically. "Come sit with us. We were just talking about the matches today."
Arven exchanged a quick glance with Elara before they both joined the table. Lyra scooted over to make space, her smile mischievous in that telltale way that meant she already had thoughts brewing.
As soon as they sat down, Kael leaned forward. "Eliminations are brutal this year. Did you two see the third-year duels? That girl with the black spear—"
"Arelia," Arven said.
Kael raised an eyebrow. "You say that like you know her personally."
Arven tried to act casual. "We've… talked."
Lyra narrowed her eyes at him, then at Elara, then back at him again. "Interesting."
Elara tried to redirect the topic. "The first-year matches were intense too. Gabriella was incredible."
Kael nodded. "Lucien's team is insane. I'm glad I'm not fighting them tomorrow."
Lyra leaned her elbows on the table and stared at Arven and Elara with a slowly growing grin. "You two look comfortable together."
Elara blinked. "Comfortable?"
Lyra shrugged innocently. "Just saying. The vibe is… warm."
Arven coughed. "It's not—"
"Sure it's not," Lyra replied, smiling even wider. "I'm just observing. Future historians will thank me."
Kael sighed. "Ignore her. She's in one of her moods today."
Elara laughed under her breath, cheeks slightly warm but not denying anything. Arven avoided Lyra's gaze entirely.
The food arrived soon — steaming plates, warm bread, and fragrant spices. Conversation flowed naturally. They talked about strategies for tomorrow, about the unpredictable matchups, about rumors spreading through the academy: who might reach the top 16, who was hiding their real strength, who the professors were secretly betting on.
At some point, Lyra rested her chin on her hand. "So… are we planning together for tomorrow?"
Kael nodded. "Yeah. The eliminations will get tougher. We need to know who's likely to advance and who's going to be the biggest threat."
Arven leaned back slightly. "Lucien's team is one. Gabriella especially."
Elara added, "And the third-years. Arelia may overshadow everyone if she keeps fighting like today."
Lyra raised both eyebrows. "Sounds like you admire her."
Arven hesitated. "It's complicated."
Kael grinned. "Everything in your life is complicated."
Elara looked at him, softening her voice. "We'll face whatever comes. Together."
Arven met her eyes — a brief, quiet moment in the middle of laughter, clattering plates, and flickering lanterns.
Not forced.
Not dramatic.
Just real.
The four of them stayed there long after the plates were empty, planning, teasing, laughing, and shaping the beginning of a bond none of them expected.
And somewhere far behind those moments, fate continued shifting—quietly, inevitably—around all of them.