Return

The Academy at dusk was alive with voices. Students spilled through the great dining hall like waves, plates clattering, laughter and speculation rising with the smell of roasted meat and spiced wine. Yet tonight, all of it revolved around a single name.

Arian Runerth—

The rumors multiplied faster than anyone could keep up.

“He dueled Professor Alden—Professor Alden!”

“Some say he forced him back three times!”

“No, I heard Alden held back.”

“Doesn’t matter. He still passed. That exam is impossible.”

“I heard he didn’t even bleed. Walked away like nothing happened.”

Lucien sat stiffly at the edge of one table, golden eyes darting to the hall doors with every creak of their hinges. His hands clenched around his cup, knuckles white. He had been barred from watching the special exam—special, the word tasted bitter—but he’d waited all afternoon in anxious silence.

Now the whispers told him the result. Arian had passed. Arian was alive.

But until he saw him—until he looked him in the eyes—it wouldn’t be real.

The hall doors groaned open.

The noise faltered, then quieted altogether.

Silver hair caught the torchlight. Pale skin, sharp lines, purple eyes cool and unreadable. Arian stepped inside, his uniform neat, his posture composed. Not triumphant, not broken. Simply Arian, as if he’d always been there, as if he hadn’t been missing, as if he hadn’t nearly been lost.

Lucien was on his feet before he realized it. His chair scraped across the floor, drawing half the hall’s attention, but he didn’t care.

“Arian!”

The boy paused, eyes finding his. For the faintest instant, something flickered—warmth breaking through frost. Then he crossed the room, ignoring the stares, until he stood before Lucien.

“You’re late,” Lucien said, but his voice cracked with relief.

Arian’s lips curved, subtle, familiar. “I had to keep you waiting. Otherwise, you’d forget how much you care.”

Lucien laughed shakily, then gripped his shoulder, pulling him into a rough embrace. Like nothing mattered anymore. Like he was never missing, like his message of warning never happened.

The hall buzzed louder, shocked murmurs weaving through the crowd, but Arian didn’t resist. He let himself be held, his voice low and steady against Lucien’s ear.

“I’m here.”

Lucien pulled back just enough to search his face. “You passed?”

“Yes.” His tone was quiet, almost matter-of-fact. “Professor Alden pressed me harder than I expected. My body wasn’t keeping pace with my mana, but persistence… persistence was enough.”

Lucien swallowed. “He could have killed you.”

“But he didn’t.” Arian’s gaze softened, the faintest warmth threading through silver. “I told you—I’d come back.”

---

The spell of reunion broke as footsteps approached.

The murmurs of Arian missing changed after the heartfelt reunion of Veynar and Runerth.

“Golden boy’s about to cry,” Toren announced, dropping onto the bench beside them with his usual crooked grin. He jabbed a thumb toward Arian. “And look who wandered back from the grave.”

Lucien shot him a glare. “Shut it.”

“Can’t,” Toren said cheerfully. He offered Arian a nod, almost respectful. “You’ve got guts, ghost. Didn’t think you had it in you to face Alden. Thought he’d snap you in half.”

Elira appeared behind him, arms folded, eyes sharp. “Don’t think passing one exam makes you invincible. You still owe me a match.”

Arian tilted his head. “Do I?”

Her eyes narrowed, but her mouth twitched. “Yes.”

Darius lumbered up next, his spear resting across his back. “The pale one lives. Thought the duel would bury him.” He chuckled, low and rough. “But perhaps I underestimated you.”

“Perhaps,” Arian agreed smoothly, his lips curving just slightly.

The circle of students thickened, whispers rising again. Curiosity, suspicion, awe—it all pressed close.

Only Caelith remained apart. Leaning against a pillar, his icy-blue eyes stayed fixed on Arian, unreadable. He hadn’t spoken a word, but his silence spoke louder than the rest.

---

Later, when the crowd thinned and night deepened, Lucien pulled Arian toward one of the arched windows. Moonlight spilled silver over the stone, washing them in quiet.

Lucien couldn’t hold back anymore. “Tell me everything. What happened while you were gone?”

Arian exhaled slowly, gaze turning outward toward the courtyard. “On my way here, I strayed too close to the Forest. Creatures came—twisted things, not natural. My mana wouldn’t answer me, not properly. Perhaps it was the place itself. Perhaps it was me.”

Lucien’s chest tightened. “You fought them?”

“I ran.” His honesty was stark, unflinching. “And when they drove me into the river, I nearly drowned. But someone found me. A stranger. They tended me until I woke.”

His voice lowered, almost fragile. “I don’t know their name. But they saved me. When I was strong enough, I asked them to send word to my family. Then I came here.”

Lucien’s throat closed. Relief and unease warred inside him. It sounded true. It felt true. And yet—

Then what was threshold? What about his message—

“You should have told me sooner,” he muttered.

“I didn’t want you to worry.” Arian’s gaze slid back to him, steady, clear. “But you worried anyway.”

Thinking Arian is alive and that was enough for Lucien. However that uneasiness stayed.

Lucien laughed once, hollow. “You know me too well.”

“Of course.” The words were simple, but the weight in them settled deep.

---

By the time they returned to the hall, only a handful of students lingered. Toren was sprawled across the bench, Elira scribbling notes beside him, Darius polishing his weapon. Caelith stood by the far wall, still watching.

Lucien felt the scrutiny, but brushed it off. Arian was beside him, solid, alive. That was what mattered.

“Sit,” Lucien said, tugging him toward the table. “Eat something before you collapse.”

Arian arched a pale brow. “Are you ordering me?”

“Yes.”

A flicker of amusement crossed his face. “Then I’ll obey.”

The others glanced up as they joined, but conversation resumed. For the first time in weeks, Lucien allowed himself to breathe.

---

But as the night wore on, Caelith lingered at the edges, quiet, thoughtful. When Elira nudged him, asking why he didn’t join the teasing, he only shook his head.

“Some victories,” he murmured, “are too perfect."

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