Elior walked back toward the elite dormitory alone.
The evening air had turned cooler, brushing softly against his still-warm cheeks.
The faint blush hadn't faded yet.
Kael's teasing words replayed again and again in his mind, making his steps uneven.
"Why does he always say things like that…"
he murmured under his breath.
His fingers tightened around his sleeve.
Embarrassment lingered beneath his skin like quiet heat.
So he didn't notice—
His footsteps were no longer the only ones on the silent path.
Another set followed.
Soft. Measured. Careful.
Not close enough to alarm him.
Not far enough to disappear.
Lost in thought, Elior kept walking as the fading light stretched his shadow long across the stone road.
And just behind that shadow…
someone followed.
It was Kael.
He didn't want Elior walking alone.
Not after the warnings in the forest.
Not after the lingering feeling that danger had never truly left them.
Those thoughts refused to loosen their grip on his mind.
So he kept his distance—
far enough to stay unseen,
close enough to reach him in a heartbeat.
Elior, flushed and distracted, never noticed.
Step by step, the dormitory lights came into view.
Warm. Safe. Quiet.
Elior entered the elite dormitory.
And slowly…
his figure disappeared from Kael's sight.
But Kael didn't leave.
He stayed where he was, eyes fixed on the entrance.
Waiting.
Minutes passed.
Students came and went.
Soft voices echoed through the night air.
Darkness settled deeper.
Only after he was certain—
certain that Elior had reached his room—
did Kael finally let out a quiet breath.
Inside, exhaustion caught up to Elior all at once.
He freshened up, lay down on his bed, turned off the lights,
and let the darkness cradle him into sleep.
Outside, beneath dim corridor lamps and a silent sky,
Kael stood alone.
Relief warmed his chest.
He lowered his gaze
and looked at his right hand.
The same hand that had reached out in battle.
The same hand that had almost lost him once.
The same hand that still remembered the weight of Elior collapsing into it.
His fingers curled slowly.
I won't be late next time.
The night breeze passed gently,
yet Kael remained there a little longer—
as if guarding a promise no one else could see.
His eyes fell to his hand again.
This time, he saw it.
A faint thread.
Half-visible.
Like a strand of light caught between reality and illusion.
It began from him
and stretched quietly into the distance—
toward the dormitory Elior had just entered.
Kael had noticed it only this morning.
When Elior leaned close,
resting his ear against Kael's chest,
listening to the quiet thunder of his heartbeat—
That was the moment.
The thread appeared.
Or perhaps…
that was the moment Kael finally learned how to see it.
When Elior realized his feelings,
Kael felt something tighten in the space between them.
Instinctively, he had caught Elior's hand.
Not just to stop him.
Not just to tease him.
But because he saw it.
That fragile strand of light tying them together.
Elior had no idea.
He couldn't see it.
He couldn't feel it.
So Kael hid his shock behind playful words
and gentle teasing.
But now…
Under the quiet night sky,
the thread was clearer than before.
Still faint.
Still incomplete.
But undeniably real.
It shimmered softly—
like living breath woven from light.
And when Kael focused,
he could almost feel it.
A distant warmth.
A rhythm.
A presence.
As if Elior's breathing reached him
through something deeper than air.
That was the other reason he followed.
Not just protection.
Confirmation.
He needed to know—
Was he the only one who could see it?
Aevrin hadn't reacted.
Hadn't noticed.
Hadn't questioned.
Which meant…
Kael alone could see the thread.
But why?
If it bound both of them,
why was only one allowed to witness it?
And why only half-visible—
like a promise not yet fully spoken?
His fingers tightened.
An unseen bond.
An unnamed connection.
A mystery waiting for its moment.
Kael lifted his gaze toward Elior's window.
The thread glowed faintly in response.
And in that quiet exchange of light,
his question deepened—
not yet answered,
not yet understood.
Kael returned to the mansion quietly.
The gates closed behind him with a low metallic hush, sealing the night outside.
Servants bowed as he passed, but he barely noticed.
His mind was elsewhere.
He went straight to his room, loosened his collar, and washed away the dust of the day.
Cool water ran over his hands… the same hands that had reached, held, protected.
When he finally lay down on the bed, the ceiling above him felt unusually distant.
Silent. Still.
His eyes drifted to his right hand again.
The thread was faint—
but present.
A soft line of light stretching beyond walls, beyond distance…
toward someone who was already asleep.
Kael exhaled slowly.
So it wasn't just something he could see.
It was something he could reach.
A connection that didn't need footsteps.
Didn't need doors.
Didn't need words.
For a moment, his thoughts began to rush—
Questions.
Memories.
Fragments of dreams.
Feelings he didn't yet know how to name.
But Kael closed his eyes.
Calm down.
One by one.
He let the noise settle.
Let the emotions loosen.
Let the silence return.
Only after his breathing steadied
did he begin to think clearly.
Kael lay still, staring into the dim ceiling.
Silence filled the room, but his mind refused to quiet.
So he began sorting everything the only way he knew how—
One question at a time.
The Mountain in His Dreams
That mountain didn't feel like imagination.
Dreams usually blurred when you woke.
Details faded. Shapes dissolved.
But this place remained sharp.
He could still see the hollow carved into its center.
The strange flow of water moving against gravity.
Light and flame existing together without destroying each other.
That wasn't fantasy.
That was structure. Design. Purpose.
Which meant one thing—
It had to exist somewhere.
He had searched for days in the northern mountain library where they were staying.
Ancient maps. Regional records. Travel journals. Restricted shelves.
Nothing.
No sketches. No geographic matches. No historical mention.
Only rumors.
Whispers of a "forbidden peak."
Stories told without proof.
Legends passed like campfire tales.
But rumors are unreliable.
People exaggerate.
Memories distort.
Fear turns normal places into myths.
He couldn't risk lives chasing something that might be invented.
Still…
If multiple unrelated sources mention a similar place,
then the story didn't start from nothing.
Maybe the truth wasn't missing.
Maybe it was hidden elsewhere.
Older archives. Private collections. Royal records.
Places where dangerous knowledge is locked away.
His eyes sharpened.
So the problem isn't that it doesn't exist.
The problem is that I'm searching in the wrong place.
The Black Book
That book disturbed him more the longer he thought about it.
A book without a readable title.
Letters that looked like writing but carried no meaning.
Ink that felt present and absent at the same time.
Languages evolve from sound and symbol.
Even lost scripts follow patterns.
But this…
This looked intentionally unreadable.
As if meaning itself was sealed.
Which raised a harder question—
Was the language unknown?
Or was the book refusing to be read?
And then there was the shadow that guided him.
It didn't attack.
Didn't speak.
Didn't threaten.
It simply showed him a path.
A path that led back to the same mountain.
That couldn't be coincidence.
Two separate mysteries pointing to one place meant:
That place was the source.
The mountain wasn't just scenery.
It was a junction.
Something began there.
Or something was sealed there.
Find the mountain → understand the book → understand the shadow.
A chain. Not fragments.
The Fog Shadow & The "Warning"
Kael's jaw tightened.
That encounter replayed too cleanly.
The fog didn't behave like an enemy.
Enemies attack directly.
This one separated them first.
Created isolation.
Cut visibility.
Controlled the battlefield.
That was strategy.
And it targeted Elior specifically.
Not randomly.
Not by chance.
It drained his inner strength without leaving physical injury.
Which meant—
This wasn't about killing.
It was about marking. Weakening. Preparing.
Like injecting something invisible.
Testing how he reacts.
Or making him vulnerable for something later.
And then it spoke calmly.
Warned them.
Pretended concern.
That was manipulation.
Confuse the victims.
Make them question their instincts.
Hide intention behind polite words.
Kael's fingers pressed into the mattress.
They think we'll accept the surface story.
But intent leaks through behavior.
Someone was targeting Elior.
Not casually.
Not emotionally.
Deliberately.
So why Elior?
Family status? Political leverage?
Or something tied to a past none of them fully remembered?
That answer wasn't in speculation.
It was in records. Movements. Hidden conflicts.
Which meant—
Investigation. Quietly.
The Dark Figure Who Nearly Killed Them
This memory unsettled him most.
That fight was real.
Pain. Impact. Breath tearing apart.
They were losing.
That wasn't exaggeration.
They were at the edge of death.
But then—
A gap.
Like reality skipped.
When he woke, they were alive.
And the figure wasn't triumphant.
It looked… devastated.
That expression didn't belong to a victor.
Why would someone trying to kill them look heartbroken when they survived?
Unless—
Killing them wasn't the true goal.
Or…
They weren't true enemies.
The figure spoke like they shared history.
Like old wounds existed between them.
But Kael had never met that being.
Not in this life.
His thoughts slowed.
Not in this life…
The mountain vision.
The golden-red flames.
The sense of familiarity with impossible places.
What if the missing memory wasn't recent—
What if it was older than this lifetime?
Then the gap made sense.
He wasn't missing minutes.
He was missing history.
If he found that figure again—
He might recover:
• What really happened in that battle
• Why the mountain felt familiar
• What bound the three of them together
One truth. Multiple answers.
Decision
But this path was dangerous.
They survived once.
That didn't guarantee survival again.
Luck was not strategy.
If he moved forward, he needed preparation. Timing. Control.
So priorities became clear:
The fog shadow → handled through investigation
The mountain → long search, hidden archives
The book → tied to the mountain
But the figure—
The figure was the fastest way to unlock everything.
Risky.
But efficient.
Kael exhaled slowly.
Then I'll face the danger directly.
Not blindly.
Not emotionally.
But deliberately.
The room fell silent again.
But inside him—
The chaos had formed a map.
And for the first time since the battle,
Kael felt not confusion—
But direction.
Again… another new secret.
The red thread tied between them.
Kael stared at his hand for a long moment, then let out a slow breath.
"…What is this now?"
A faint line of light.
Half-visible.
Uncertain.
Yet undeniably there.
"Another thing to find the reason for…"
He pressed his fingers against his eyes.
"Uff…"
He was tired.
Too many questions.
Too many fragments.
Nothing complete.
Why had everything become so different?
Was it because he joined the academy?
No…
That wasn't it.
Then… the dream?
No.
That didn't feel like the beginning either.
His thoughts drifted again.
To a moment he couldn't ignore.
That meeting.
That person.
Golden eyes.
Silver hair.
Just remembering him made something tighten quietly in Kael's chest.
An ache he didn't understand.
Yet strangely—
A sense of relief always followed.
His presence disturbed Kael's calm.
And soothed it at the same time.
"…Why?"
Kael turned to his side, staring into the dim room.
He went over everything again.
Slowly. Carefully. Endlessly.
And somewhere in that spiral of thoughts—
Another mystery began to take shape.
—by Aurea; "Some bonds don't need words to exist —
they wait quietly, like a thread of light,
until the heart learns how to see."