Ian and the others left quietly, each lost in their own thoughts as medics arrived to carry off the participants for treatment. No one said much. Even Varian, unaware of the full picture, sensed the tension thick in the air and wisely chose to remain silent.
In one of the pavilions overlooking the field, Urimaer stood, his gaze lingering on the aftermath of the match. Cairon... he knew him, not closely, but well enough. Urimaer's grandparents lived in Efsagroth, part of the upper class, and through them, Urimaer had crossed paths with many from that circle, Cairon included.
He always thought of Cairon as the calculating type, a careful player who knew how to navigate social ladders. Urimaer had assumed today's match was just another publicity stunt, a planned move to raise his standing. But what had just happened… that had caught even him off guard.
There was something more to Cairon, something he might have overlooked.
Still, that was a thought for later. For now, he needed to check on Volon.
"I hope the guy pulls through this," he muttered. The wounds Volon had taken weren't the concern, not with the kind of medical tech available. They'd patch him up easily. And Urimaer wasn't worried about that. It was his mind that concerned him.
Night had fallen by the time Ian returned to his apartment.
The question remained on how to proceed next... Contacting the authorities… wouldn't work. What would he even say? That Cairon's transformation reminded him of Hamon, Enira's old servants? That the energy, the nature of it, looked like something connected to the Quiet Testament?
To say that, he'd have to explain everything else which might put him in a more disadvantageous position. Plus it wouldn't even mean much as there was nothing specific to prove it. Parasite-based paths were broad with multitudes of variation. The Concord didn't restrict most paths, not unless they directly came at the cost of sentient life or polluting the reality. Just seeing tentacles or monstrous traits wasn't enough.
And maybe… maybe it wasn't even a parasite. Could be something else entirely.
Ian exhaled slowly as he made his way toward his room. He caught sight of Myrra, her fingers absently teasing the Zephar Petals. The soft glow from the crystal highlighted the gentle focus on her face.
Sensing him, she turned, her brow furrowing slightly. "When did you come back?"
Ian didn't answer. He simply pulled her closer, his arms going around her.
Myrra froze for a moment, confused. "Wait, what's..."
But she didn't pull away. Instead, her arms slowly found their place around him as she relaxed, the confusion fading.
Meanwhile, in another mansion, Cairon had made significant progress, at least physically. His body healing in ways the medics had predicted. But the concussions? Those lingered, clouding his mind and blurring his focus. The referee had really worked him over, and though his body was recovering, the mental toll was harder to shake.
The medics had advised a month or so of rest, but to Cairon, that was unacceptable. He wanted to get back to work, to finish the task Lady Phyrra had set for him.
He attempted to walk, but the dizziness crept up on him, and he swayed as his vision blurred. The caretakers had insisted on staying by his side, but he dismissed them. He needed to recover quickly.
As he stumbled, a soft hand caught him, steadying his faltering body. Cairon looked up, his head spinning, and saw her, Phyrra.
Her allure was ever present in the clinging fabric that whispered of the curves beneath, hinting at the sultry beauty that lay draped in her elegant attire. But there was something more in her eyes now. A quiet pain that softened her usual seductiveness.
She looked down at Cairon with concern, her lips parting in a quiet sigh. "Look what happened to you… We could have waited." Her voice was tinged with both frustration and care, the kind of concern that was hard to ignore.
Cairon, still swaying from the dizziness, managed a small smile, despite himself. "This was the easiest way," he said, his voice rough, the weight of his stubbornness still hanging in the air.
Before he could continue, Phyrra gently pulled him closer, her hands cradling his head as she guided it to rest against her chest. The warmth of her body wrapped around him.
"Oh, silly child..." she murmured softly, her voice full of a knowing affection, as if she both scolded him and cherished him in the same breath.
She led him to the bed. Her fingers deftly slipped the strap of her dress, allowing it to fall and reveal one perfect mound of flesh. Cairon, lost in the haze of his own desire, claimed her offered bounty with eager lips, savoring the taste of her soft skin.
The air grew thick with the scent of desire, as whispers of pleasure began to permeate the chamber, hinting at the intimate dance unfolding between them.
A few days passed, and soon the information arrived. The committee had made their decision. The results were deemed valid, and Cairon was now ranked among the top. However, he would also be punished for his behaviour.
He would be suspended for a month, a mandatory break to undergo mental conditioning. This would involve intense meditation and therapeutic exercises, specifically designed to recalibrate the mind and focus the thoughts. It wasn't just a simple rest, it was a methodical process meant to restore balance and clear the mental fog that could cloud his judgment. And if by the end of this rehabilitation he couldn't have a proper control, then he will face expulsion from the Academy.
Meanwhile Ian sat in the research facility, the hum of machines and the quiet buzz of the environment almost soothing. He'd started working on the prototype, the progress slow but steady. High Scholar Durlan had already left, and now Yeonelyth led the project.
But his mind wasn't fully on the work. It kept drifting to the situation with Cairon. He didn't even know where the man was now, much less how to proceed. The lead on that front was effectively paused until Cairon returned. Ian sighed, his thoughts tangled. He'd finally made some progress, but it felt like a small victory in a sea of uncertainty.
Lost in thought, he didn't notice Yeonelyth approaching until her voice broke the silence.
"Something on your mind?" she asked.
Ian glanced over. "No, nothing serious."
She tilted her head slightly, unconvinced. "You know, you can always tell me if something's bothering you. I can consult on more than just this project. It may not seem like it, but I'm actually pretty well-versed in a lot of things."
Ian gave a polite nod. "Thanks. I appreciate it."
She lingered a moment, watching him as if she could see through the deflection. Then, without pressing further, she gave a small smile and walked off.
Ian turned back to the projection in front of him, but his focus wasn't really there. His thoughts drifted to Yeonelyth. She was… weird. Not in a bad way, just hard to wrap his head around. Even though, he had no trouble recalling how she looked or sounded now, but there was still this strange feeling, like she didn't quite belong. Like she wasn't fully on the same plane of existence.
Ian exhaled and forced his attention back to the task in front of him.
Once he wrapped things up, he didn't head back to his apartment. Instead, he made his way to Ial Themar, to one of the private facilities. He was here to check in on Enira, just routine. Measure, document, see if there were any lingering effects from her change, anything unusual or potentially adverse.
When Ian arrived, Enira was already there, waiting. She wore a white dress, soft and loose at a glance, but the fabric clung just enough to trace the curve of her hips and the subtle dip of her waist. The neckline sat a little lower than usual, framing the line of her collarbone, and the way the dress moved, light, almost effortless, only drew more attention to the shape beneath. Casual, yes, but there was a quiet boldness to it. Not something intentional, not a show, but unmistakable all the same.
Ian didn't waste any time. After a few short greetings and a quick check if she had noticed anything unusual, he began the examination. Enira lay back on the chair, the smooth hum of instruments filling the space as Ian calibrated the readings, eyes focused on the displays.
Her gaze stayed on him, curious, studying. Something about him felt different, not just in presence, but deeper. Since her change, her senses had sharpened beyond what they once were, and now, looking at Ian, there was a pressure she hadn't felt before. Like a suppression on a life level.
Ian noticed. "What?"
Enira tilted her head slightly. "You feel different... since last time."
He didn't pause in his work. "I entered First Order."
"Ahh... okay. Wait, what?" She sat up abruptly. "When?"
"A few weeks ago," he replied casually.
Enira blinked. "And you didn't think it was worth mentioning to me?"
Her tone wasn't angry, exactly, but there was a clear weight in it, disappointed, maybe even hurt.
Ian paused. "Didn't really have the time. Everything's been moving fast."
Enira looked away, adjusting the sleeve of her dress. "Right. Of course."
There was a moment of silence.
Ian cleared his throat. "Anyway, your readings look stable. Nothing adverse showing up. Energy levels are holding, and the restructuring's consistent."
Enira nodded slowly, though her expression hadn't softened entirely. "I've been feeling.... I think I'm close to advancing."
Ian glanced at her. "Don't rush it. Whatever step's coming next, make sure it's the right one. Don't let the pressure mess with your path."
That pulled a faint smile from her. "Yeah. I'll be careful."
Ian gave a small nod and went back to checking the last few readings, though the tension in the room had eased, just a little.
She arched a brow, arms loosely crossed as she leaned back on the edge of the chair. "Where's the advancement celebration? Don't tell me you also had that without me."
Ian hesitated. Truth was, there had been a small thing, just something quick and internal, within Rulmose. If they were still in Lylva, she would've been there without question.
"I don't really like to celebrate," he said, avoiding her eyes for a second. "But... we can go somewhere."
Enira's expression shifted, her teasing softening into something almost warm. "Good," she said, standing. "You owe me."
They didn't go far, just to a quiet, tucked-away restaurant nearby, the kind of place with soft lighting and tall windows that looked out onto the gardens. The meal itself was light. Nothing extravagant. Just good food and unhurried conversation, about advancement, about training and about Myrra.
Afterward, outside the restaurant, Enira brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, glancing at Ian.
"I should head back," Enira said eventually, her tone calm again.
Ian nodded. "Yeah."
Then they parted ways
Unbeknownst to either of them, they weren't entirely alone in that quiet evening.
Far from the restaurant, in a private chamber nestled deep within one of Rulmose's less frequented wings, Anarzee sat on a sofa, in the glow of a suspended monitoring rune. The image flickering before her was faint, pale blue and slightly distorted, but clear enough to see Enira and Ian step out of the building together.
She watched them in silence, elbows resting on her knees, fingers loosely entwined in front of her. The runes had been set up days ago, finely tuned to Enira's presence. It wasn't easy, Ial Themar's districts and homes were designed to prevent this kind of intrusion, but she knew a few tricks most didn't. Enough to keep a watch from afar without tripping alerts.
Truth was, Cairon's disappearance hadn't only affected Ian. Anarzee had been troubled too. She'd taken up a temporary instructor post in Rulmose because it was the only real lead she had, something that might eventually point her to the Lord's Blood, and to what happened to her brother.
But Rulmose was massive. Too many students. Too many variables. Tracking anything concrete felt like chasing smoke.
Her only thread had been Cairon, Phyrra's boytoy. And now, even that path had gone cold.