Kael slept.
But sleep did not bring rest.
It opened a door.
He was standing on the edge of a quiet river.
Mist floated above the water like drifting silk. The air felt gentle — cool, clean, peaceful.
Someone stood ahead of him.
A familiar figure.
Not fully seen. Not fully hidden.
Just… waiting.
Kael followed.
They crossed the river without getting wet, footsteps gliding over the surface like memory had turned solid.
On the other side stood a house.
Large. Elegant. Built with the kind of care that only love could afford.
Soft lanterns glowed along the walls. Vines curled around carved pillars. Windows shimmered with warm light.
Someone lived happily here.
Kael could feel it.
Laughter in the walls. Even the wind felt welcomed.
The figure entered.
Kael followed.
Inside, everything felt alive — polished wood, wide halls, quiet beauty in every corner. A home, not a mansion.
They climbed the stairs.
At the balcony, mountains rolled endlessly under a golden sky. The river curved like a silver thread through green valleys.
It was breathtaking.
Kael felt his chest grow warm.
So a place like this can exist…
A place where nothing hurts.
A place where no one leaves.
A quiet voice, almost lost in the wind—
"He liked places like this… where nothing feels loud."
Kael stilled.
Blink.
They were in a garden.
Flowers everywhere — white, blue, soft pink — swaying gently like they were breathing.
They didn't feel random.
They felt… chosen.
Grown with care.
"Those didn't grow on their own," the same quiet voice murmured, softer now.
"He planted them… one by one."
And there —
Two figures.
One was the same cloaked presence guiding him.
The other —
Kael froze.
It was him.
But not him.
Older in the eyes. Softer in the smile. Wearing a life Kael didn't remember living.
Past Kael ran forward and wrapped his arms around the cloaked figure from behind.
Careful. Familiar. Like he had done it a thousand times.
The figure turned slightly.
Gentle hands covering his.
Comfort without words.
Love without performance.
Kael felt it like it was his own memory.
Warm. Safe. Certain.
This is what forever looks like…
Then —
The warmth vanished.
The cloaked figure dissolved like mist in sunlight.
Gone. Just like that.
Past Kael's hands clutched empty air.
Silence swallowed the garden.
"No…" he whispered.
He dropped to his knees.
Not screaming. Not raging.
Just… breaking.
A shiver ran through him, cold and real, as though the world had emptied a piece of his chest.
Tears fell, unchecked.
After a long time, he moved.
Slow steps.
Toward the river.
He sat at its edge, fingers dipping into the flowing water.
Ripples spread.
His reflection trembled, fragmented.
"…You're still there, aren't you?" he murmured.
"You always answer me like this."
The water shimmered but said nothing.
Still, he waited.
Like silence itself was a conversation.
Kael's chest tightened.
He didn't understand why this hurt so much.
Why it felt personal.
Why grief was sitting in his lungs like it belonged there.
The figure turned.
Same eyes.
Older. Emptier. Carrying lifetimes.
It was him.
Not as he was.
But as he had once been.
Past Kael's voice, worn thin by surviving too much:
"Have you seen him?"
Present Kael's throat tightened.
He didn't know why answering felt dangerous.
Past Kael looked toward the moonlit water.
"His presence was my world," he said quietly.
"They took him away… and left me breathing."
Silence pressed in.
A faint smile formed — fragile, practiced, exhausted.
"Do you know what that means?"
He didn't wait for an answer.
"It means waking every morning inside a life that no longer fits your soul."
Wind slipped through the trees, carrying the weight of unshed years.
"I loved him enough to protect him from my pain."
"I thought distance was kindness."
"I thought silence was strength."
His voice cracked.
"So I carried the breaking alone."
Present Kael felt something fracture inside his chest.
Past Kael finally looked at him — not through him.
At him.
Direct. Knowing.
"Love binds two lives together."
"If one stays… and the other disappears…"
"It stops being a bond."
"It becomes an ache that never leaves."
He stepped closer.
No anger. No blame.
Only tired truth.
"Don't repeat what I did."
"Don't stand far away pretending it's safer."
"Don't let quietness steal what still breathes between you."
The garden began losing color.
Petals fading. Light thinning.
Past Kael's voice softened.
"Stay beside him."
"Not when it's convenient."
"Not when fate forces you."
"When he reaches without words…"
"Be there before the silence answers for you."
The world dissolved into white.
Present Kael jolted awake.
Dark room. Uneven breath.
A shiver lingered down his spine.
His chest — it felt like grief had been living there long before he knew its name.
Somewhere deep inside,
Love was no longer beautiful.
It was something you could lose
without realizing
you were already saying goodbye.
Kael jolted awake.
Breath uneven.
The room was dark.
Quiet.
For a moment, he didn't move.
Didn't think.
Just… lay there.
Something felt wrong.
Not sharp.
Not loud.
Just… missing.
His fingers shifted slightly against the sheets.
The faint thread on his hand shimmered.
Still there.
Still connected.
But it didn't feel the same.
Kael sat up slowly.
His chest felt… light.
Too light.
Like something that should have been there…
wasn't.
He exhaled.
The air felt normal.
Everything felt normal.
And yet—
It wasn't.
He pressed a hand lightly against his chest.
Nothing hurt.
Nothing ached.
But the silence inside him felt unfamiliar.
Like a room he had entered before…
but didn't remember leaving.
For a brief second—
Something flickered in his mind.
A feeling.
Not a memory.
Just… a trace.
Of warmth.
Of loss.
Of something that had once mattered.
Then it slipped away.
Like it had never been there at all.
Kael's fingers tightened slightly.
His brows drew together—
just for a moment.
Then relaxed.
Kael looked down at his hand again.
The thread flickered softly.
Thin.
Distant.
For a second—
He tightened his fingers.
Not enough to hold it.
Just enough…
to make sure it was still there.
A quiet breath left him.
"…It's nothing."
The words came easily.
Too easily.
As if something inside him had already decided
not to look deeper.
He stood up.
Got ready.
Moved like usual.
Everything looked the same.
The morning.
The routine.
The world.
Only—
Somewhere deep inside—
Something had shifted.
And he couldn't name it.
Morning had fully arrived by the time Kael reached Elior's dormitory.
He found Elior waiting by the entrance, calm and composed, though his eyes betrayed a hint of fatigue.
Kael offered a small, faint smile.
"Ready?"
Elior nodded, falling into step beside him.
For a brief moment—
Kael looked at him.
Just… a second longer than usual.
Like he was checking something.
Something he himself didn't understand.
Then he looked away.
The carriage awaited silently outside, polished and steady. Private guards lingered at a distance, their presence discreet yet firm.
Kael helped Elior inside the carriage.
The space was narrow, but intentionally so — close enough that the world outside seemed irrelevant.
The ride to the academy passed without conversation.
The wheels rolled over the stone roads in steady rhythm.
Outside, students began their daily routines.
Inside—
Only silence.
Not heavy.
Not awkward.
Just… quiet.
Kael sat still, gaze forward.
But once—
briefly—
his fingers brushed against his own palm,
right where the thread rested.
Then stilled.
The classroom was already half full. Students whispered quietly, glancing toward the door, then averting their eyes. Kael and Elior moved toward their usual place — the last row, last bench. Kael took his seat on the right, Elior on the left.
Moments later, the door opened again. Aevrin entered, slow, deliberate, his presence calm yet commanding. His eyes scanned the room briefly before resting on the pair at the back.
Aevrin took his seat slowly, careful not to strain his side.
Elior's voice reached him, soft and concerned.
"How are you feeling today?"
"Better," Aevrin replied. "Stronger than yesterday."
His voice was steady. But his mind… wasn't here anymore.
For a moment, the classroom faded.
—
The arena.
Heat. Noise. Dust rising under his feet.
The sound of metal clashing echoed again and again. Every opponent he faced was strong. Skilled. Trained.
But Aevrin didn't care about them.
Not really.
His grip on the sword tightened. His breathing slowed.
There was only one thing in his mind.
He's watching.
Somewhere above, among the royal seats—
Elior was there.
At first, Aevrin didn't look. He couldn't afford to. One wrong move, one broken focus, and he would lose.
So he fought.
Step by step. Strike by strike.
Every movement clean. Every attack precise.
Not for the crowd.
Not for the title.
But for that one moment—
When he would finally look up.
—
The final match.
Silence spread slowly as his opponent fell back.
Aevrin stood still. Sword lowered. Breath steady.
Victory.
The arena erupted, but it sounded distant.
Because now—
Now he could look.
Slowly, Aevrin lifted his eyes.
Not toward the judges.
Not toward the crowd.
But slightly to the side—
Where Elior stood.
For just a second… their eyes met.
That was all.
No smile.
No reaction.
No words.
But Elior had looked.
He had noticed.
And for Aevrin…
That was enough.
More than enough.
When Elior's father handed him the prize, Aevrin accepted it calmly.
Like it didn't matter.
But inside—
That one glance had already become his victory.
—
"Aevrin?"
The present returned.
The classroom came back into focus.
Elior was still looking at him.
This time… clearly. Fully.
Aevrin met his gaze again.
Not the same as before.
But not different either.
That same quiet effort.
That same silent question.
Do you see me now?
Elior's eyes softened, just slightly.
And Aevrin understood.
Yes.
This time…
He did.
Aevrin looked away first, settling into his seat like nothing had happened.
But inside, something eased.
A small, quiet victory—
Just like that day.
Kael didn't move.
From his seat, his gaze remained forward, calm, uninterested—
at least, that's how it looked.
But he had seen it.
That brief moment.
The way Aevrin looked at Elior.
The way Elior… looked back.
It wasn't obvious.
It wasn't anything others would notice.
But Kael did.
His fingers tapped once against the desk, slow, absent-minded.
What was that…?
He couldn't name it.
Couldn't understand it.
But something about it didn't sit right.
Not anger.
Not jealousy.
Just… a small, unfamiliar weight settling quietly in his chest.
He frowned slightly.
As if trying to grasp it—
and failing.
The feeling slipped away just as quickly as it came.
Leaving behind only a faint trace of unease.
Kael leaned back slightly, eyes still forward.
And said nothing.
—by Aurea; "Some losses do not break you loudly.
They quiet you… until even what remains
no longer feels like it was ever yours."