Ronan's shoulders trembled as he clutched onto her, his breath hitching. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.
Samantha pressed a light kiss to the top of his head, then pulled back slightly to look at him. "Now, enough sulking," she said with a gentle smile. "I found a food stall earlier, and I know for a fact you'll love their food. So come on, let's go."
Ronan sniffled, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand before managing a small smile. "Alright."
The two of them left together, walking through the lively streets of Serenwyn. The city was alive with the chatter of people, the warm glow of lanterns, and the enticing aroma of sizzling food. Samantha made sure to keep the conversation light, nudging Ronan playfully and recounting funny incidents from her latest training session. Slowly, his laughter joined hers, easing the sorrow that had clung to him.
As they finished their meal, Samantha leaned back with a satisfied sigh. "By the way," she said, turning to him, "you've reached Adept Tier Three. How about joining us on a mission? It'll be a good experience for you."
Ronan considered her words, nodding thoughtfully. "That does sound like a good idea… but I need to talk to Mr. Alden first before I can give you an answer."
Samantha grinned, her eyes twinkling. "Fair enough. Just don't take too long."
With the weight on his heart lifted, Ronan smiled genuinely for the first time that evening. The two of them spent the rest of the night enjoying their meal, talking, laughing, and basking in the simple warmth of each other's company.
That night, Fatigue had finally caught up to Ronan. The moment his body touched the bed, sleep consumed him like an abyss, dragging him into unconsciousness.
When Ronan opened his eyes, he found himself in a place devoid of light. An overwhelming darkness engulfed him, so dense that he couldn't even see his own hands. A chilling realisation crept over him; he had dreamed of this place before. But something was different this time.
A sensation spread through his feet, cold, wet. The air carried a thick, metallic scent. Blood. His stomach twisted at the realisation.
A sudden wave of unease hit him.
"Hello?" Ronan called out, his voice swallowed by the void. "Anyone here? Hello!"
His voice echoed, then faded, leaving only a suffocating silence. Taking a cautious step forward, his foot hit something solid. He stumbled, nearly falling. His breathing grew heavy.
Fire. In his previous dream, he had summoned fire. Clenching his fist, he willed a small flame into existence. This time, it appeared effortlessly, flickering in the abyss. The dim glow revealed something beneath him.
His breath caught in his throat. His feet were submerged in a cold, crimson, endless pool of blood. He recoiled, stumbling backwards. The fire in his hand flickered violently before vanishing. Panic seized him. He gasped, immediately summoning another flame.
The light revealed something else. A body.
Ronan froze. His entire body trembled as he gazed at the lifeless face before him. Recognition struck like a dagger to the heart.
A villager. One of the people they had failed to save.
"No…" he whispered, his voice shaking. His stomach churned, and his chest tightened as if invisible hands were squeezing the life out of him. He forced himself to stand, though his legs felt like lead.
More light. He needed more light.
Willing the fire to grow, Ronan extended his arm, illuminating the space around him. His heart pounded violently against his ribs.
Bodies.
Dozens. No, hundreds.
Scattered lifelessly across the ground. Eyes hollow. Some frozen in terror. Others twisted in pain. And all of them, every single one, were the villagers. The ones he couldn't save.
The weight of his failure crashed down upon him, suffocating, unrelenting. His breathing grew ragged as he staggered forward, desperately avoiding the corpses. In the distance, something stood apart from the horror, a pedestal. And atop it, a cage made of roaring flames. Inside the cage, another fire burned a grey, almost sacred glow amidst the despair.
A flicker of hope?
He moved toward it. But no matter how far he walked, the distance between him and the pedestal remained the same. The space stretched endlessly, mocking him.
Panic swelled within him. His pace quickened. Then, he ran. Sprinting with everything he had, his breath came in short gasps, sweat drenching his body. But the pedestal never grew closer.
A voice.
"Ronan."
His blood turned to ice.
The voice was behind him.
"Why didn't you come sooner?"
His entire body shivered. He turned his head, slowly, hesitantly.
One of the corpses stood. Lifeless eyes stared at him, lips curled into something twisted. Unnatural.
More voices joined. More bodies rose.
"Why didn't you save us?"
"You were healing her, yet she still died in your arms."
"You should have been stronger."
Ronan's legs wobbled, his strength draining away like water slipping through his fingers. He could barely move, his body weighed down by invisible chains of guilt.
Then, fingers, cold and wet, clamped around his ankle.
A sharp gasp tore from his throat.
The ground beneath him shifted. The blood pooled around him surged, rising like a sentient tide, dragging him down.
"No! No!" He thrashed, but the hands only pulled harder. His legs disappeared beneath the surface. His waist. His chest. The more he struggled, the weaker he became.
The bodies continued their eerie chant.
"Why didn't you save us?"
The last thing he saw before slipping beneath the blood was the pedestal, so close yet impossibly far.
His body sank. Deeper. The crimson abyss swallowed him whole.
Darkness consumed his vision. His lungs burned. His limbs refused to move. His mind screamed at him to fight, but his will wavered. Was this how it ended?
His consciousness started to fade.
Is this the end?
In the abyss, a final thought surfaced. A desperate plea.
Samantha… where are you?
His heart clenched at the memory of her smile. The warmth it once brought now felt like a cruel illusion.
Then, hands.
Two hands grasped his own, firm and unwavering. A female voice, a voice filled with warmth, sorrow, and desperation, echoed through the darkness. It was a known voice, but he was unable to identify it
"Ronan… will you give up now?"
The voice trembled but held steady.
"You are the light of my world. If you fall into the darkness… who will bring light to mine?"
A male voice. Softer, but just as resolute.
"We will always be by your…"
A sudden force pulled him upward. His body surged through the blood, through the darkness, through the suffocating weight of despair.
His eyes snapped open.
Gasping, Ronan shot up from the bed, his chest rising and falling in frantic breaths. His entire body was drenched in sweat. His heart pounded so hard it hurt. His hands shook as he clutched the blanket beneath him.
For a moment, he just sat there, gulping in the air, his mind struggling to separate reality from nightmare.
But the voices still echoed in his head.
And the weight of his failures refused to fade.
The early morning air was crisp, yet Ronan barely noticed as he walked through the academy corridors, his mind clouded by the lingering echoes of a nightmare. His breath came a little heavier than usual, and he rubbed his temples in frustration.
Those feelings were so real... he thought. The two who pulled me from that pool of blood felt like brother and sister from that village. The ones who died... But how could that be? His brows furrowed deeper. And that flaming cage... What was trapped inside? Was that the Ghost Flame? Everything felt so vivid, yet so incomprehensible...
Still lost in his thoughts, Ronan barely noticed the group of students blocking his path until he was forced to stop. Blinking away his daze, he looked at them with mild confusion.
"Good morning," he greeted politely. "Do you need something from me?"
One of the boys let out a short, mocking laugh before stepping forward. "We're here to warn you."
Ronan's gaze sharpened. "Excuse me?"
Another boy smirked. "Stay away from Elenor."
Ronan narrowed his eyes. "Why?" he asked, his voice calm but laced with suspicion. "And how are you related to Elenor?"
Instead of answering, one of the boys suddenly threw a punch at Ronan's side. With reflexes honed by training, Ronan blocked it effortlessly, his eyes now cold and assessing. However, before he could react further, two more boys launched an attack. He managed to deflect one strike, but the second hit his stomach, making him stagger back a step.
Laughter erupted from the group as if they had just humiliated him. "Consider this a warning from Lyra," one of the boys sneered.
Before the situation could escalate further, a voice cut through the tension.
"Enough!"
Orin, who had been watching from a distance, rushed over, his presence alone making the group hesitate. He crossed his arms and glared at them. "Get out of here before I report you all to the academy."
The boys and girls scoffed but ultimately backed away. "Remember, Ronan," one of them said before leaving. "Stay away from Elenor."
As the group disappeared down the hallway, Orin turned to Ronan, who was rubbing his stomach where the punch had landed. "You okay?"
Ronan gave him a sideways glance and smirked. "Enjoyed the show?"
Orin chuckled awkwardly. "A bit. But not much."
Ronan sighed and shook his head. "Whatever. What are you doing here anyway?"
Orin's expression grew more serious. "Actually, I was looking for you. I wanted to tell you something: Roderick invited me to join his team to gain more experience."
Ronan's expression didn't change much. "Good for you."
Ronan said, "Samantha also wants me to join."
"I'm not joining," Ronan said simply.
Orin frowned. "Is it because of Lyra?"
Ronan scoffed lightly, shaking his head as he began walking ahead. "Nah. I just don't want to drag the team down. You know, I'm the weakest among all of you." His voice dripped with sarcasm, though his eyes held something deeper, something Orin couldn't quite place.
Orin sighed but smiled faintly. "Right. The weakest. Sure."
They walked in silence for a moment before Orin spoke again. "By the way, I also need to go to Mr. Alden's office. Might as well walk together."
Ronan didn't respond, but he didn't protest either. The two of them continued toward the office, each lost in their own thoughts, yet silently acknowledging the unspoken understanding between them.