The darkness didn't last. There was no endless fall, nor time to grow accustomed to the blindness.
With the same violence with which the armored warrior's blade had sliced through his neck, reality crashed back onto him all at once, like a bucket of ice water slammed straight into his face. The surreal silence of the flowery meadow was swept away by a roar of sharp, disordered, frantic sounds. It was the din of the royal garden of the Opes castle.
Hayjin snapped his eyes open. The green and silver light of the healing mages burned his corneas, forcing him to blink repeatedly. Around him, the air smelled of disinfectant, wet clothes, and the metallic tang of blood but not his own. It was the smell from before. The normal one.
"...manhunt where you risked your lives in this manner? There was something else on that tower before it collapsed, wasn't there?"
Rhaegalur's voice reached his right ear deep, calm, and heavy. The dragon god was right there, a step away from him, towering and motionless in his dark robe. There was not a single bloodstain on his face. His gray hair was perfectly in order. There was no trace of the gray and pink mush that, just a moment prior or perhaps an eternity prior had covered his face.
Hayjin remained frozen, his mouth half open. His heart was beating so violently against his ribs that he feared it might shatter them at any moment. His hands, trembling like leaves in a storm, snapped upward completely beyond his control.
Grounding Reality
He touched his head.
His fingers dug into his sweat-dampened hair. Then they slid down to his forehead, pressing hard against the bone. He felt the skin, his eyebrows, his tight eyelids. He slid his palms down his cheeks the very same cheeks that the blue-haired girl had cupped in her hands just an instant before and finally gripped his neck. He squeezed it tightly, almost wanting to feel his trachea, his muscles, the flesh attached to his spine.
He was completely intact. There were no cuts. There were no cracks. His head had not flown into the air, nor had it exploded like a rotten egg on the floor.
"Damn it... damn it, what was that?" he thought, his wide eyes staring at the gray slate floor at Rhaegalur's feet. "What was that place? I was there. I smelled the tea. I felt that girl's hands on my face. And then that bastard with the sword... he cut my head off. I swear I felt the cold of the iron. I truly felt it."
The terror was literally hollowing him out from the inside. He couldn't understand if what he had experienced was just an incredibly vivid dream, a fatigue-induced hallucination, or if he had genuinely died and traveled back in time. The sensation of his head separating from his body was still there, seared into his nerves like a branding iron. Every time he tried to swallow, he felt a horrific void at the base of his throat.
"Hayjin? Are you listening to me?"
Rhaegalur's hand settled on his shoulder. What was usually a protective gesture felt to Hayjin in that moment like the weight of a mountain. His adoptive father's touch jolted him out of that limbo of thoughts, but instead of calming him, it triggered a violent reaction in his stomach.
Nausea arrived like a tidal wave of boiling acid surging straight up from his bowels. It wasn't just a feeling of sickness; it was his body rejecting the horror of having died twice in less than five minutes. The taste of jasmine tea mixed with the memory of the cultists' blood still on the tip of his tongue, creating an intolerable blend.
"I... I..." Hayjin tried to speak, but only a dry rattle escaped his throat.
He doubled over, clutching his stomach. His legs gave out instantly, dropping him to his knees on the cold slate floor. His head spun so violently that the academy's medical room seemed to tilt ninety degrees, the green lights of the healers stretching into warped, luminous streaks.
"Hey, what's wrong with you?" Adeline's voice came from somewhere to his left, suddenly alarmed. The sound of her boots rushing toward them pounded on the floor like a hammer.
Hayjin couldn't look at her. He threw his mouth open and began to vomit directly onto the ground.
A stream of bitter bile, gastric juices, and what little water he had drunk before the trial hit the gray stone with a slimy, heavy thud. The boy's body was wracked by a tremendous shudder an abdominal cramp so intense it completely stole his breath. He stayed there on all fours, his fingers dug into the seams between the stone slabs, while drool and acid continued to drip from his lips, dirtying his tunic and the floor.
"Damn it, move out of the way!" Adeline barked, immediately kneeling beside him and grabbing his hair to keep his face from landing in his own mess. "Healers! Bring water and a towel, move! He's having a rejection crisis or something!"
Rhaegalur, however, remained motionless. He watched the boy collapse to the ground, but his expression was not one of disgust. It was a mix of concern and a strange, profound understanding. He knew Hayjin was no ordinary boy, and he knew that whatever had happened in the dungeon went far beyond a simple battle against a crystal monster.
Calmly, the dragon god crouched beside him, placing a large, warm hand on his back right between his shoulder blades, beginning to move it in small circles to help him breathe.
"Let it out, Hayjin," Rhaegalur said, his voice low and steady, seeming to act as a shield against the chaos of the room. "Let it all out. Purge everything. Don't hold anything inside."
Hayjin continued to retch for another thirty seconds that felt endless. Every time he thought he was done, his stomach contracted again, painfully empty, pulling up only white foam and acidic saliva that burned his throat like fire. He felt his eyes water, his cheeks flush, and his nose grow completely blocked.
When the last tremor passed, the boy remained motionless, his forehead just inches from the puddle of vomit. Then, suddenly, his breath vanished.
His lungs locked up abruptly, as if someone had shut a valve in his throat. He tried to draw air in, but his chest remained immobile, rigid as a piece of wood. His mouth gasped wide in a desperate attempt to intake oxygen, but nothing entered. Panic true, primal, animal panic of someone drowning assaulted him with the force of a speeding train.
"No, no, no! I'm dying again! My chest is bursting now!" his mind screamed, as his vision began to blur again, rimmed with black. His hands clawed for Rhaegalur's shirt, grabbing and squeezing it with the strength of desperation.
"He's not breathing! Adeline, he's not breathing!" yelled one of the healers who had just arrived with a basin of water, dropping it to the ground with a metallic crash.
"I fucking see it! Don't touch him, let me do it!" Adeline extended her hands toward Hayjin's chest, ready to cast a lung-stimulation spell, but Rhaegalur's hand cut her off mid-trajectory.
"Step back, Adeline. This is not magic," the dragon god said, his tone brooking no argument.
Rhaegalur slightly tightened his grip on Hayjin's back. An almost invisible fraction of his power a pure, ancestral warmth that had nothing to do with the mages' mana passed through the boy's clothes, reaching directly into his heart. It wasn't an attack; it was an anchor. Something to hold onto in the midst of that sea of madness.
"Hayjin, look at me. I am here. Feel my hand," Rhaegalur said, his voice echoing straight into his brain, overriding the whistling that filled his ears. "Breathe. You are not in there. You are outside. The dungeon is over. You are safe with me."
That surge of warmth was like an electric shock. The blockage in Hayjin's throat broke with a violent gasp.
"GASP!"
The boy drew in an immense breath of air, so deep his ribs creaked. His chest heaved suddenly and he began to cough, one strike after another, spitting the last remnants of bile onto the floor. Oxygen began flowing through his blood again, sweeping away the black mist that was about to swallow him once more.
He lay there, curled on his side, his chest rising and falling at a frantic pace. His heart was slowly slowing down, transitioning from that mad gallop to a more regular, though still heavy, beat. The coldness of the slate against his bare skin helped ground him. He felt the wetness of the floor, the heat of Rhaegalur's hand on his back, the scent of lavender from the towel Adeline was pressing against his face to clean him.
Everything was real. This time it was real.
"Here, clean your mouth," Adeline said, her voice decidedly softer than before, though she was still shaken by what she had witnessed. She wiped the wet cloth over his lips and chin, cleaning him carefully. "You gave us a scare, kid. We thought you were about to kick the bucket."
Hayjin took the towel with a trembling hand and finished cleaning himself. He sat up, leaning his back against the stone column, away from the mess that the healers were already making disappear with a minor purification spell.
"I'm... I'm fine," he finally managed to say. His voice was normal now. No complex terms, no aloud mental calculations. Just the words of a tired, frightened boy, drained of all energy. "Sorry for the mess. My... my stomach just turned all at once. I don't know what came over me."
He ran a hand through his hair, breathing slowly through his nose to soothe the last tremors. He looked at Zhilian, who was still asleep on her litter, surrounded by the green lights. Then he looked at Atlas, who was staring at him from his bench with a strange expression somewhere between surprise and a sort of respect for holding onto his soul after such an endless hell.
And finally, he looked at Rhaegalur. The dragon god was still watching him in silence, waiting for the boy to truly come to his senses before resuming the conversation that had been interrupted by that absurd trip into limbo. Hayjin knew he couldn't lie to him forever, but he also knew that if he spoke right now, his head might explode again. And that was an experience he had absolutely no intention of repeating a third time.
A few meters away, far from the dirty perimeter of the column where Hayjin was painfully trying to piece back together his sanity, Evelyn and Atlas watched the scene. The floor had been cleaned by a swift stroke of purifying magic from one of the healers, but the air remained heavy, permeated with that sharp smell of acid and cold sweat that Hayjin's body had cast out.
Atlas had slumped back onto the stone bench. The healer taking care of him had just finished binding his right arm with bandages soaked in a regenerating ointment that smelled of marsh herbs. The warrior clenched and opened his left fist, feeling his shoulder muscles still stiff, but his gaze was fixed on the F-Class boy, who was wiping his face with the wet towel provided by Adeline.
"Listen," Atlas murmured, barely turning his head toward Evelyn. The girl had leaned against the wall, arms crossed over her chest. Her clothes were still damp and her hair clung to her forehead, but her eyes were pinned on Hayjin like two needles. "What do you think of that guy now?"
Evelyn didn't answer right away. She took a deep breath, looking at the ceiling of the medical room before bringing her eyes back to her classmate.
"I don't know, Atlas. To be honest, I don't understand any of it. I don't have all the answers I want yet, but one thing is for sure: I don't trust him. Not even ten percent."
Atlas made a half-grimace, letting out a grunt that tensed his neck muscles.
"So I'm not the only one who thinks something's wrong. He had a crisis that made it look like he was going to drop dead on the spot. Did you see how he was touching his head? It looked... I don't know, it looked like he expected not to find it there anymore."
"It's not just that," Evelyn continued, lowering her voice even further so as not to be overheard by the Association mages passing nearby. "Think back to when we were in the dungeon. I completely lost visual contact with him and Zhilian. For several minutes, it was impossible to tell where they had ended up. An F-Class boy, without a shred of mana, should have been crushed by the rubble or dead within ten seconds. Yet, when I found him, he was standing. He had superficial wounds, sure, but nothing that explains how he survived a collapse like that. It's impossible. I'm certain he's hiding something big. Something he doesn't want to tell us."
Atlas remained silent for a few moments, looking at his mud-stained boots from the dungeon. Then he sighed, shaking his head.
"Yeah, you're right. This whole story stinks to high heaven. But..." The warrior paused, casting another glance toward the column where Hayjin was breathing more regularly. "But I have to admit I've got a shred of respect left for him. I mean, it was hell in there. Anyone else in his shoes a normal kid with no powers would've hidden in a corner crying or run away screaming. He stayed there. He helped how he could, he stayed awake until the end, and he didn't let go of Zhilian when things went south. He's got guts, you can't take that away from him."
"Having guts is one thing, Atlas; being a danger is another," Evelyn cut him short, her voice returning to its cold, detached tone, typical of her upbringing. "In any case, it's better not to lower our guard around him. When we return to Doeken, we'll have more important things to think about."
"On that, we agree," Atlas concluded, clenching his jaw. "Whatever he's hiding is the business of the Opes Kingdom, certainly not ours, but we'd better not lower our guard. He could be a threat to Doeken as well."
Genuine Affection
A small figure rushed through the threshold, her orange-brown hair tied up messily and her breath short from running through all the underground corridors of the facility. It was Wren, Zhilian's younger sister.
The moment she saw the litter at the center of the room, where Zhilian rested under the light of the magical prisms, Wren bolted forward, ignoring the mages who tried to tell her to quiet down. She threw herself onto the edge of the platform, grabbing her older sister's hand, murmuring confused words, squeezing that cold hand as if terrified it might vanish at any moment.
After speaking with one of the healers, who assured her that Zhilian was stable and just resting to recover her strength, Wren looked around. Her eyes locked onto Hayjin's figure, sitting against the column, pale and visibly shattered.
Without a second thought, the young girl abandoned her sister's station and ran toward him.
Hayjin had seen her enter, but his mind was still too exhausted to formulate any thoughts. When he realized Wren was heading straight for him, he tried to wave his hand, but he didn't make it in time. The girl literally threw herself upon him, wrapping her arms around his neck and squeezing him with incredible strength for her age, starting to cry hard against his shoulder.
"Hayjin! Oh my god, Hayjin!" she sobbed, clutching the fabric of his tunic with her trembling little hands. "I was so scared... everyone said the dungeon had closed on its own... I thought you guys weren't coming back! I thought you were all going to die in there!"
Hayjin remained completely frozen. His arms hung rigidly at his sides.
The sensation of that small, warm body hugging him was the exact opposite of the freezing void he had experienced in the flowery meadow of the illusion, where that blue-haired girl had told him she loved him before his head flew off. That contact so real, so human made him feel incredibly confused, almost uncomfortable. He wasn't used to this kind of affection, especially not after living through the horror of mutation and death.
"Hey... Wren... listen, it's all right," Hayjin said, his voice coming out a bit raspy and uncertain. He slowly lifted a hand, giving her two clumsy pats on the back to try and calm her down. "Look, I'm fine. I'm in one piece. Nothing irreversible happened, seriously. Stop worrying, come on."
"You're not fine at all, idiot! Look how pale you are! You're shaking all over!" Wren replied, pulling back just enough to look him in the face. "You look horrible, Hayjin! My sister is asleep and you look like a ghost! What did they do to you in there?"
Before Hayjin could invent a believable excuse to justify his pitiful state, Rhaegalur's imposing figure stepped forward, positioning himself between the two. The dragon god looked at the young girl with his usual calm expression, but his tone of voice was soft, almost protective.
"Wren, listen to me," Rhaegalur said, placing a hand on her shoulder to gently pull her away from the boy. "Let him breathe a moment. Hayjin had a truly hellish day down there, and his body has exceeded the limit of fatigue. Right now, he just needs you to give him a few days to rest, sleep, and recover for a bit. If you squeeze him like that, you risk making him throw up again."
Wren sniffled, looking first at Rhaegalur and then back at Hayjin. She seemed to grasp the gravity of the situation and stepped back.
"All right... sorry," the girl said, looking at Hayjin with a sweet expression full of sincere affection. "You're right, Master Rhaegalur. Then I'll go stay near my sister. But you promise me you'll rest, okay? Don't be foolish. Get well soon, Hayjin. I hope this awful moment passes quickly for you."
Hayjin offered a small, strained smile, feeling a strange tightening in his chest in the face of such spontaneous kindness. "Yeah, I promise, Wren. Thank you. See you in a few days. You stay close to Zhilian; she needs it more."
The young girl nodded vigorously, gave him one last worried look, and then returned quickly to her sister's litter, sitting down on a wooden stool a healer had kindly moved over for her.
Another quarter-hour of apparent calm passed. The mages continued to move back and forth, carrying away used bandages and sorting the various medical instruments. At one point, a faint moan came from the central platform.
Zhilian had moved.
The Princess of Opes slowly opened her eyes. The green light of the prisms reflected in her golden pupils, which, however, still appeared clouded, lacking her usual military alertness. She brought a hand to her forehead, letting out a groan of pain as she tried to bring her surroundings into focus.
Hayjin, seeing that the girl had regained consciousness, pushed off his legs and stood up. Although his muscles still ached and his head felt heavy, he felt it his duty to go and ask how she was. After all, she had been the main victim of that cult psychic attack, and she had been the reason he had to drag out the monster hiding beneath his skin.
He took a mere three steps toward the litter when his path was suddenly blocked.
Two tall, massive men dressed in the light silver tunics of the Knights of Opes the princess's royal guard, who had just arrived from the upper floors of the castle positioned themselves before him like a wall of metal. One of them, a man with a prominent scar on his cheek and a gaze full of contempt, extended an armored arm and delivered a sharp shove to Hayjin's chest, sending him staggering back toward the atrium.
"Step back, boy," the knight said, his voice harsh, metallic, and devoid of any courtesy. "Stay in your place and do not approach the princess. We have no need for someone like you getting underfoot at a time like this."
Hayjin massaged his chest where the knight's metal plate had struck him, feeling a flare of anger rise to his throat. But he decided to maintain his composure, clenching his fists at his sides. "Hey, take it easy. We were in the dungeon together. I just wanted to ask how she's doing, that's all. There's no need to push."
"We don't care what you did in there or who you were with," the other knight retorted, placing his hand on the hilt of his sword to make it clear he wasn't joking. "Princess Zhilian is the heir to the throne, and her condition is confidential. You are just an ordinary boy, and a rankless one at that. Turn around and get out of here before we have to use force. She needs to recover and has no time to waste on you."
From the litter, Zhilian's weak, broken voice interrupted the argument. The girl was trying to push herself up on her elbows, despite Adeline and a healer attempting to keep her down.
"Mmh... where... where am I?" the princess murmured, looking around with her vision still partially blurred. "What happened? The wyvern... the tower..." Then her head turned toward the corridor where the commotion had broken out. "...Hayjin? Where is Hayjin? He was with me on the platform... I saw him..."
"Zhilian, hey, look at me, stay down," Adeline intervened immediately, placing a hand on her shoulder firmly but without hurting her. "You are safe. The trial is over; we pulled you out. But right now you need to stay calm and not move. You suffered a bad magical shock and your body needs to rest. Never mind the knights and think about yourself for now."
"But I... I need to know..." Zhilian insisted, her usual stubbornness trying to claw its way through despite her weakness. With only one eye, since the other was covered by a temporary bandage, she tried to look past the bulky shoulders of her bodyguards.
Hayjin, seeing that she was looking for him, took a step to the side to make himself visible beyond the knights' armor. He raised a hand and greeted her from afar with a small, silent gesture, as if to tell her he was alive and everything was fine.
Zhilian saw him. Her pale face relaxed for a moment, and a faint, barely noticeable smile appeared on her lips tired, but sincerely relieved. In turn, she raised two fingers of her free hand, returning the greeting from afar before yielding to Adeline's insistence and letting herself sink back onto the pillows, closing her eyes from extreme exhaustion.
Hayjin turned and went back to his column, ignoring the grim stares of the Opes knights. He knew how the world of nobles worked: to those guards, he was just trash who had dared to breathe the same air as their precious princess. But he didn't care. The important thing was that Zhilian was alive and well. The rest was just palace chatter.
Departures
About three hours had passed since the moment Zhilian woke up. The castle garden had emptied almost entirely. Most of the healers were ready to depart, and the frantic atmosphere of the emergency had given way to a tired silence, broken only by the rare sound of footsteps in the corridors.
Evelyn and Atlas were ready to leave. The Association mages had prepared a direct transfer portal to return them to their realm of origin, the Kingdom of Doeken, where they would receive more specific care from their houses and where they would have to file a formal report on the dungeon incident.
The two A-Class youths approached the exit zone, where Rhaegalur and Hayjin were waiting for the final bureaucratic procedures for their release to be completed.
Evelyn had completely cleaned her face. The smudge of Hayjin's blood that had dirtied her cheek was gone, leaving room for her usual pale, elegant skin. She had donned a dark traveling cloak over her clean academy uniform. She stopped before Rhaegalur and offered a small, formal bow, lowering her head with respect.
"Goodbye, Master Rhaegalur," the girl said, her voice steady but tired. "Thank you for your timely intervention with the rescue portal. If you hadn't arrived, I don't know how it would have ended down there."
Rhaegalur nodded, keeping his hands behind his back. "Have a safe journey, Evelyn. Focus on recovering. The academy will handle clarifying the responsibilities of what happened."
Then Evelyn turned to Hayjin. She looked at him for a few seconds, as if trying once more to read through his dark eyes, but the boy kept his expression as neutral as possible.
"I hope Zhilian recovers soon," Evelyn said, speaking in a normal tone of voice, stripped of that aristocratic coldness she had used earlier with Atlas. "And you... make sure to rest. You look like you just crawled out of a grave. Try not to get into any more trouble."
"Thank you, Evelyn. I'll do my best to sleep," Hayjin replied in a faint voice, giving a slight nod.
Right after, Atlas stepped forward. The warrior had his right arm immobilized by a conspicuous black leather sling holding the limb tight against his chest, but his stride had returned to being solid. He stopped right in front of Hayjin, towering over him with his physical bulk. He extended his left hand, the only one free, offering it to the boy for a greeting.
Hayjin looked at the hand and then gripped it. It was a short, firm handshake, one of those grips exchanged between soldiers after surviving a bad night in the trenches.
Atlas tense his facial muscles, stepping closer and speaking in a low voice, quiet enough not to be overheard by the mages activating the portal runes behind him.
"You've got guts, I'll say it again," Atlas said, looking him straight in the eyes. "But don't go celebrating just yet, kid. This whole business of your crisis and the way you survived still doesn't add up for me. I'm keeping an eye on you, just so you know. Next time we see each other, I want to get to the bottom of this."
Hayjin didn't say a word. He didn't get scared, he didn't get angry. He simply held the Doeken warrior's gaze, tightening his grip on his hand for one final instant before letting go. He gave only a small nod, as if to say he understood the message and wasn't afraid of being watched.
"The portal is stable! You may pass!" announced one of the Association mages, whose white robe shone with the bluish light emanating from the circle of runes on the floor.
Evelyn and Atlas turned, walking toward the vibrant light of the transfer. Before stepping through, they turned one last time for a quick wave, and then they were swallowed by the magical flash, disappearing toward the northern borders of Doeken.
Shortly after the departure of the Doeken youths, the time came for the two sisters of Opes to leave the medical facility as well. The knights of the royal guard had organized an armed escort of six elements, all equipped with heavy armor and ceremonial spears, ready to transport Zhilian directly to the royal castle, where the crown's private physicians would look after her in a decidedly more protected and controlled environment.
Zhilian had been seated in a magical wheelchair that floated a few inches off the floor to prevent any jolts from hurting her head. She was wrapped in a heavy blue wool blanket with the Opes house crest embroidered in gold on the shoulder. Even though she was still very tired, weak, and pale, her eyes were decidedly livelier than a few hours ago.
Wren walked right by her side, holding her left hand and walking with a proud stride, as if wanting to act as a bodyguard for her older sister in front of all those armed men.
The group of knights headed toward the main corridor leading to the outer stables. When they passed near the area where Hayjin and Rhaegalur had remained waiting, the knights closed ranks around Zhilian's chair, clearly trying to form a wall to prevent the boy from approaching again.
But Zhilian would have none of it. Exploiting the little strength she had left, she raised her left arm over the shoulder of the knight walking ahead of her, leaning slightly to the side.
She looked at Hayjin from afar. Her eye was filled with profound exhaustion, but also a gratitude that had no need for words or formal speeches. She gave him a clear wave, greeting him warmly.
Wren, seeing her sister wave, turned as well and began to wave her arm energetically, smiling at Hayjin and calling out one last time: "Bye Hayjin! See you soon! Remember to rest!" before the leader of the knights shot her a look of reprimand for breaking the military silence of the formation.
Hayjin raised his right hand, responding to the greeting of both with a calm gesture, watching them as they rounded the turn of the corridor and vanished behind the doors leading outside. He felt a small void in his stomach when the room fell completely silent, but at the same time, he felt a sense of relief: the worst part was over, and those two girls were finally safe, far from the dangers of the dungeon and the clutches of that damned cult.
Dismissal
Left alone, Adeline approached Rhaegalur and Hayjin. The head instructor of A-Class looked to have aged ten years in a single day. She ran a hand through her short hair, letting out a long sigh that betrayed all the exhaustion accumulated during those hours of hell.
"What a fucking day, if I may use the term," Adeline said, her shoulders slumping as she temporarily abandoned her rigid posture as an academy official. She looked at Rhaegalur with tired eyes. "Master Rhaegalur, I will take my leave. I must go upstairs immediately to file a formal report with the Association mages. There will be arguments all night about how it was possible for someone to tamper with a training dungeon without anyone noticing. It's going to be a hell of paperwork and trials, I guarantee you."
Rhaegalur gave a small, understanding nod. "Go ahead, Adeline. You did an excellent job managing the rescue. Let the Council make its moves."
Then Adeline turned to Hayjin, crossing her arms and looking at him with an expression that was a mix of severity and motherly concern.
"And you, kid..." she said, pointing at him with her index finger. "I don't want to see your face for a while, I don't want to hear your name mentioned, and above all, I don't want you going near any kind of magic or training. Go home, crawl under the covers, and sleep until you forget what your own name even is."
"Yes, ma'am. Received. Sleep and disappear," Hayjin replied, offering a sort of clumsy military salute, feeling that he could finally relax for a moment.
"Try to stay careful on the way home," Adeline concluded, giving one last nod of greeting to Rhaegalur before turning on her heels and walking quickly toward the administration offices.
Rhaegalur turned to Hayjin, looking him up and down. His imposing figure seemed even more solid in the midst of all that emptiness. "Let us go home, boy."
Hayjin said nothing. He simply nodded, finally detaching himself from the stone column that had supported him through all those hours. He gathered what few things he had left and set off.
As he walked, he felt the weight of every single step. Physical exhaustion was literally crushing his shoulders, and his throat still burned from the bitter taste of bile. But as they stepped out the back door, feeling the cool evening air hit his face, Hayjin looked up at the sky, which was beginning to fill with stars. It wasn't the fake azure of the flowery meadow, and it wasn't the ink-black of limbo. It was the true sky the one of the real world.
"I'm alive," he thought, clenching his teeth as he climbed the steps of the dark wooden carriage. "My head is attached to my neck, Zhilian is safe, and for now, nobody knows what happened up there. That's enough for today. That is definitely enough."