The courtyard finally settled. Eclipse Faction's name hung in the air like a strange omen, and most students moved on, whispering about the reckless swordsman and the boy with no element.
But Riven didn't move. He stood beside Kairo, hand tightening on the hilt of his sword. His eyes weren't on the nobles or the stares—they were locked far away, toward where Lily had been dragged off.
"…Kairo," he said suddenly.
Kairo tilted his head, crimson eyes dull as ever.
"What?"
Riven's jaw tightened. "If someone… if someone couldn't control their magic, no matter how hard they tried… could you teach them? I mean—can you control mana well enough to guide another?"
The question carried weight. Kairo felt it. His mind flickered—back to the gods whispering, back to his own endless curse.
He studied Riven, the boy with no magic but with scars of a thousand failures.
"…You're not asking for yourself."
Riven's lips pressed into a line. His silence was the answer.
Kairo looked away, carrying that boyish voice in his head that once begged him to be a big brother. Family, huh?
He finally nodded.
"I don't know if I can teach… but I can make sure whoever learns won't be destroyed by it."
Riven exhaled like a man unclenching years of guilt. His hand loosened on the blade.
"Then someday… I'll ask you to teach her."
The silence between them was heavy, but not uncomfortable. A silent pact had been formed.