The room had gone quiet after his family stepped out to give him a moment to rest.
The afternoon light seeped through the curtains—diffused, soft, too gentle compared to everything inside his chest.
A soft click.
The door opened.
He didn't recognize the footsteps immediately. They were steady. Confident. Almost rhythmic—like someone who had walked battlefields and courtrooms with equal ease.
A faint distortion brushed the air.
Only one person in the Academy carried it at that strength.
"Mr. Wright," a woman's voice said—cool, clipped, and carrying the quiet arrogance of someone who didn't need to raise her voice to own the room. "You finally decided to join us among the living."
Principal Nicole Richards.
She didn't ask permission to enter; she didn't need to.
Solace straightened slightly, ignoring how every muscle in his body protested.
"Principal," he greeted quietly. "Sorry to make trouble."
A short, amused exhale escaped her.
"Trouble? Child, you fell off the map into a sealed mythological deathtrap, survived a Layer Five anomaly, fought through a corrupted kingdom, and were nearly murdered by a fanatic cult on your way out." A chair scraped lightly as she sat beside his bed. "Trouble is when a first-year accidentally blows up a bathroom."
Solace blinked.
"… Right."
Even with blindness, he could almost feel her gaze running over him.
"You look worse than the reports suggested," she said bluntly. "But you're alive. That already ruins several bets in the Administration Wing."
He couldn't tell if she was joking or serious.
Probably both.
Nicole leaned back slightly, crossing one elegant leg over the other.
"Your cohort," she began—tone shifting into something professional, but softer than before—"is safe."
His breath stilled.
She continued.
"Lex and Lily recovered fully. Their families spared no expense. They were discharged after one month and returned to classes."
Solace swallowed.
"And Vivi?"
"She was on her feet in two weeks," the principal answered. "Her healing thread makes her recovery faster than most. She still checks the infirmary every day… in case you woke up."
That startled him more than he expected.
"Phoebe broke several ribs, but she recovered the quickest. She resumed training before anyone else."
Solace let the names settle inside him, feeling the tension unwind just a fraction.
"And Nolan?" he asked quietly.
A silence.
Not long—but long enough to notice.
"He has not left his dorm room since his wounds healed," Nicole said, tone controlled. "The boy carries an impressive burden of guilt. His mother's death did not help."
He closed his eyes.
Of course.
He exhaled slowly, shakily.
Nicole didn't offer comfort. She wasn't the type. But she did pause—just enough for the silence to not feel cruel.
Then her voice sharpened again.
"Now. Onto the real reason I'm here."
Her heel tapped the floor once—an unspoken verdict.
"The Church of the Shattered Sun has been… annoyingly persistent."
Solace's hand tensed around the sheets.
"They know you and your team returned alive," she continued. "Which, apparently, spoils several of their plans."
Her tone carried a contempt so cold it felt surgical.
"They have demanded access to your artifacts. Your testimonies. Your memories. And in the last week, they attempted—twice—to pressure the Imperial Council into handing you over."
Solace felt his jaw tighten.
"And… what happened?"
Nicole smiled.
Not kindly.
More like a predator adjusting her blade.
"I told them if they touched a finger on one of my students, I would rewind their hearts into infancy."
Solace stared.
"I… see."
"You don't," she said, rising from her seat. "But you will."
She walked a few steps toward the door, then stopped—hand resting lightly on the frame.
"Normally, I would never personally visit a student in recovery. That is what the nurses are paid for."
Her head tilted slightly toward him.
"But you and the others were under my protection the moment they tried to take what is mine."
A beat passed.
"You will not be interrogated. You will not surrender your artifacts. And as long as I stand in this Academy, the Church will not lay a hand on you."
She glanced at his bandages—at the empty darkness where his right eye once was.
Her voice softened. Barely.
"You survived something no student should endure. Recover properly. When you can walk again, come see me."
Solace inhaled shakily.
"… Thank you."
She didn't respond.
The door clicked shut.
Leaving Solace alone with the quiet hum of machines, and the weight of the world he had just returned to.