Towan’s voice was soft, almost lost in the stillness of the morning. "Two weeks in the infirmary… and today, I finally go back to class." His eyes lingered on the horizon, where the first light of dawn stretched like a pale gold ribbon, bleeding into the deep indigo of night. It was a fragile light, the kind that seemed to hold its breath before the world woke up.

He stood at the edge of the training grounds, the crisp morning air biting at his skin, carrying with it the faint scent of dew and damp earth. The academy lay silent around him, its usual cacophony of clashing swords and shouted commands replaced by an almost sacred quiet. Even the wind seemed to move more gently here, curling around him like an old friend.

"This…" Towan murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, "this is the best part of the day. Don’t you think so, Elliot?"

Behind him, Elliot shifted on the wooden bench, the creak of the planks breaking the silence. He stretched, his arms reaching toward the sky, before pushing himself to his feet with a grunt. "Not my favorite," he admitted, his tone casual but edged with something deeper. "But it’s… peaceful. No one around to get in the way. Just us and the quiet."

The two of them had just finished their usual training session, the kind that left their muscles aching and their breaths short. Towan could still feel the faint tremble in his arms, the lingering burn of exertion that reminded him he was alive. He flexed his fingers, watching the way they curled and uncurled, as if testing their strength after weeks of disuse.

Elliot stepped closer, his boots crunching softly against the gravel. "I was starting to feel lonely, you know?" he said, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant. "Kept doing our routine alone. Alira joined me a couple of times, but…" He trailed off, shrugging. "She couldn’t keep up for long."

Towan glanced at him, catching the flicker of something in Elliot’s expression—something raw and unspoken. It wasn’t just about the training. It was about the empty space Towan had left behind, the silence where his voice should have been. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the weight of those two weeks hanging between them like a shadow.

The horizon brightened, the gold deepening into a fiery orange. Towan turned back to it, his chest tightening with something he couldn’t quite name. "It’s good to be back," he said finally, his voice steady but carrying an undercurrent of gratitude. "Even if it’s just for this—just for the quiet."

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Elliot nodded, his gaze fixed on the same distant point. "Yeah," he said simply. "It’s good to have you back."

The wind picked up again, carrying with it the faintest hint of warmth as the sun climbed higher. For now, the world was still theirs, untouched and unbroken. And for the first time in weeks, Towan felt like he could breathe.

A few minutes later, Towan and Elliot stepped into the bustling cafeteria, the warm aroma of freshly baked bread and sizzling bacon wrapping around them like a welcoming embrace. The clatter of trays and the hum of conversation filled the air, but the two of them found their usual spot by the window, where the morning light streamed in, casting a golden glow over the table.

Towan lifted his latte to his lips, closing his eyes as he took a slow, deliberate sip. A contented sigh escaped him. "Ooh… I almost forgot how good this tastes. After two weeks of that awful ‘healing tea’ they kept forcing on me in the infirmary, this is pure heaven."

Elliot rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair with a smirk. "Bro, it’s been two weeks. Aren’t you being a little dramatic?"

Towan placed a hand over his chest, his expression one of mock solemnity. "You wouldn’t understand. That tea was a crime against humanity. This," he said, raising his cup, "is redemption in a mug."

Elliot opened his mouth to fire back, but before he could, a familiar voice cut through the noise.

"Hey, guys! Early as usual!" Alira’s cheerful tone rang out as she slid into the seat across from them, her tray clinking against the table. Her bright smile was infectious, and she turned it on Towan. "Glad to see you back in one piece. How are you feeling?"

"Better than ever," Towan replied, stretching his arms above his head with a satisfied grin. "Honestly, it’s like all that resting and meditating just made me stronger." He smirked, though his mind flickered to the vial Rheon had given him and the hours he’d spent refining his channels in secret. (Not that anyone needs to know about that…)

"Really?" Alira asked, one eyebrow arching skeptically.

"Surprisingly, yes," Elliot interjected before Towan could elaborate. He crossed his arms, his tone matter-of-fact but with a hint of pride. "He was sharper than ever during training earlier. Almost like he’s been secretly practicing or something."

Towan chuckled, waving a hand dismissively. "Or maybe I’m just that good."

As the conversation flowed, Elliot’s gaze drifted to the edge of the cafeteria, where Sylra stood near the entrance. Her eyes were fixed on him, her expression unreadable but intense. (Has she found something?) he wondered, his stomach tightening. (Has she figured out who messed with Towan’s channels?)

For the past two weeks, ever since he and Sylra had gotten their hands on the kitchen logs, they’d been piecing together the puzzle—digging through records, cross-referencing schedules, and scrutinizing every detail. Elliot had spent countless afternoons in the library, poring over ancient texts to understand the technique used to poison Towan’s food. Meanwhile, Sylra had been quietly investigating the kitchen staff, her sharp eyes missing nothing.