Following Elara's unexpected declaration, Riven and Nyx made their way back to his dorm in silence. The weight of what had been said still lingered—like the final toll of a distant bell echoing through the corridors of the Academy.
They didn't speak. They didn't need to.
The halls of the second-year dormitory were quieter than usual, the usual chatter dulled by the events of the previous day. Riven's presence now drew stares—some reverent, some wary—but none dared approach. Not after what they had seen. Not after watching him bring down the Academy's golden son with fire that devoured light itself.
As they passed the teleportation gate, a flash of red caught Riven's eye—vivid against the gray stone walls.
Flaming curls. Pacing back and forth.
Ember.
She hadn't seen him yet. Her movements were anxious, jerky, like a bird too long caged. She wrung her hands, her crimson brows knit in worry, her gaze flicking from passing students to the gate—as if willing someone to appear.
