Syl stepped out of her tent just as she saw Noah near a small fire. The air was thick with humidity, despite the clarity of the day.
She approached slowly, watching him stir something in a pot. And then, like a breath catching in her chest, the truth from the night before sank in again — Noah was the flower boy. The one she'd carried with her for seven years. The one she never stopped thinking about.
"Good morning." Her voice, usually poised and polished, now held a warmth she hadn't expected to show. But Noah didn't seem to notice.
He served two wooden bowls filled with a light broth and some vegetables, placing them on what looked like an extension of the earth itself — a rough earthen table. Sitting on an old tree stump, he gestured at the second bowl with a clay spoon in his hand.
"Made enough for two. But don't feel like you have to eat."
Syl blinked.
Wait… what? He… cooked for me?
No. No no no. Don't be ridiculous. He just made extra while cooking for himself. That's all. It's not like he thought about me or anything. I just happened to be his partner… and we're stuck here… and that's totally normal and expected.
Her stomach growled.
…Oh gods, is that mushroom soup?
She sat down with far too much eagerness, pulling the bowl close and trying to act normal. He passed her a spoon made of pale, carefully crafted clay.
She sniffed the soup and almost melted. She couldn't help it — her face lit up.
"Go ahead. I promise it's not poisoned," Noah said, eyeing his own bowl. The words were dry, but his voice wasn't as cold as usual.
Syl took a breath.
Okay. Play it cool.
It's just soup.
Really, really good-smelling soup.
She lifted the spoon, then paused. If she didn't know better, she'd think the utensil had been made by a craftsman. But she knew the rules. The only things they were allowed to bring into the trial were weapons and a disposable tent for the first night.
She narrowed her eyes at him, holding up the spoon.
"Where did this come from? I saw you using Light yesterday, not Earth. And this table, these tools — where did they come from?"
Noah kept eating slowly, as if her question made perfect sense but wasn't worth answering. But inside, panic flickered.
Crap. I forgot.
First the shirt yesterday, now the utensils…
Thanks, Master, for making the final training challenge surviving alone in a forest.
Now I make these things without thinking.
Great. Just great. If she puts this together…
Most people can only manipulate one elemental essence.
He let the spoon rest, finally looking at her.
"They were with the tents we received. A kind gesture, I guess. As for the table…" He nudged the block of earth beneath their bowls. "Maybe it's part of the labyrinth. But don't worry — I already checked. It's safe."
Syl raised an eyebrow and looked up, as if weighing the logic.
Huh.
Didn't know they provided tools too.
Maybe they eased up on the trial this year.
"Got it. Either way, thanks for the breakfast. Smells really good."
Noah glanced at her and saw the happiness shining on her face as she stared into the bowl.
"You really like soup, huh?"
She took another bite, savoring it like a dish from a five-star chef. Then looked up at him.
"I do—"
No!
Don't say that!
If he starts suspecting I'm the girl from the lavender field
… Not now.
I'm not ready for him to know yet.
"Actually, not really. But this is tasty, I'll give you that."
Sorry, gods of soup.
I swear it's for a good reason.
I still love you.
"Oh. That's fine. Not everyone's into it. But thanks. I used to make it for my granny almost every day, once she started getting weaker and couldn't cook for herself."
He paused, the spoon halfway to his mouth.
His face, which had just begun to soften, collapsed. The spark behind his eyes vanished, as if the memory stabbed too deep, too fast.
He finished eating in silence, turned away from her, and drew his sword. He began sharpening it slowly, without a word.
"When you're done, just leave the bowl. I'll clean it later by the stream."
Syl watched him, trying to make sense of the sudden shift. She was sure — that had been the boy from the lavender field. That gentle smile, that fond way he'd spoken about soup…
But something heavy still clung to him. Something deeper. Something that made him vanish before her eyes.
What happened to you, Noah…? It's so frustrating not being able to ask. Great idea, Syl. Really smart — don't tell him who you are. Brilliant.
They had been walking in silence for some time. The tunnel twisted into a wider path, but the air felt heavier than before — dense, damp, charged with something unseen.
Syl glanced at Noah from the corner of her eye. He'd been quiet ever since breakfast. Quieter than usual. His gaze stayed low, his shoulders a little more hunched than normal.
She didn't say anything.
They had only just turned into a winding corridor when the shadows ahead began to shift.
The air stilled — thin and heavy at the same time, like the labyrinth was holding its breath. Even the light seemed to hesitate, clinging to the walls instead of reaching forward.
Syl slowed instinctively, hand brushing the hilt of her Runicblade. Beside her, Noah's shoulders tensed. Then it came — a low hiss from the walls. The stone cracked open like breathing lungs, and creatures crawled out from the seams.
Six of them. The same from the day before.
Twisted, lean, and fast — like rats made of shadow and bone, with eyes that glowed faint violet.
Noah moved first, silent and sharp. Light gathered around him, his blade flashing through the first creature with ease. Syl followed his rhythm, slashing through another that lunged from the side.
But then Syl saw it.
Noah stopped moving.
His stance was off — too loose, too still. His grip on the sword had faltered, just enough that the tip dipped slightly.
His eyes weren't on the enemy.
They weren't on anything around him.
They were distant.
Unfocused.
Like the labyrinth wasn't even there.
Syl's brow furrowed, the shadows were shifting again — another creature lunging.
And Noah wasn't reacting.
His jaw was tight, but his eyes were hollow, as if something inside had been pulled out — not fear, not hesitation, just… gone.
Like a door had shut behind his eyes…
Syl's pulse jumped.
"Noah!"
She didn't think — she moved. Her hand locked around his sleeve, yanking him back as the creature's claws tore through the space his chest had occupied a heartbeat earlier.
Before its arm even finished the swing, Syl spun past Noah, her Runicblade catching the light in a quick, rising flick. The creature lunged again — and she met it sideways, driving the blade through its ribs as she slid beneath its reach. The beast let out a warped hiss before unraveling into pale mist.
She turned back to him. He'd stumbled, one knee grazing the ground.
"You okay?" Her voice was quiet but breathless. She held his shoulder gently, eyes searching his. "You froze."
Noah blinked, his eyes clearing as they found hers again. "I… sorry. I was just — thinking."
She didn't press him. Just helped him to his feet — her hand lingering a moment longer than necessary. But before he could say anything else, a soft sound filled the air.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Syl's head snapped up. Her pupils dilated.
"No…"
A pale drop struck the ground with a faint sizzle.
Noah glanced up. "Rain? Is that even possible down here?"
Another drop landed near his boot, hissing faintly against the stone. He didn't flinch — until Syl grabbed his wrist with both hands.
Her grip was tight. Urgent. Not polished or polite.
"Come with me," she said, already pulling him.
"What—"
"Please."
He didn't resist as she broke into a sprint, dragging him along. They rounded one bend, then another, the passages narrowing around them — until Syl suddenly ducked into a narrow crevice in the wall, barely wide enough for two people.
They squeezed inside, stone pressing close. Their knees almost touching.
Noah tried to steady his breath.
"Alright," he said. "What was that all about? What's going on?"
Syl reached down and picked up a thin, dry root near her feet. She stretched it out past the stone shelter, letting a few drops hit it.
Then she pulled it back in.
A second later, angry red welts started to bloom across the bark — like burns. The root sagged slightly.
"This isn't water," she said quietly. "It's essence rain. The concentration of raw essence in this space is too dense. When that much essence condenses, it falls. And if it so much as touches your skin… it burns. Not like fire. It scorches your core. Makes your link to essence unstable. And your body too."
Noah stared at the stick. His voice lowered.
"Could it kill someone?"
"No," she whispered. "Not immediately. But it hurts. And if it gets in your eyes, or lungs… it could do permanent damage."
He looked at her again, noticing the way her hands still trembled slightly, even as she tried to seem composed.
"You've seen this before."
She nodded. "Once — a long time ago… we just need to wait until it stops."
Their breaths mingled in the narrow space. The essence rain continued to fall beyond the stone walls, a soft shimmering mist just inches away.
Their knees touched in the cramped fissure. Neither of them said anything at first, just listened to the hiss of essence rain outside — drops hitting the stone like acid kisses.
Syl finally broke the silence.
"You froze," she said gently. "Back there, during the fight."
Noah didn't answer at first. His gaze was fixed just over her shoulder, distant again. Then he blinked and shifted slightly, like the words had to be dragged out from somewhere deeper than his chest.
"I haven't thought about her in months," he said, voice low.
Syl tilted her head.
"My granny," he added. "She raised me after my mom… left. She passed a year ago. So this morning — when I made soup, the smell, I don't know, it brought her back for a second. And when we were fighting that thing, the way it moved… like something else — I hesitated, and I shouldn't have."
He looked at his hands, clenched them, then looked away again.
"She used to tell me not to get into fights or cause trouble… 'No soup for troublemakers.' and I actually believed her." A brief smile flickered on his face, vanishing as quickly as it came.
Syl gave a faint smile, but no laugh followed. His sincerity left no room for it.
"She must have been very kind."
"She was… stronger and smarter than anyone I've ever met. But after she died… I didn't have time to grieve." Noah's jaw tightened; the words seemed to drag something raw out of him. "My Master — she trained me nonstop for a year. Said pain is fuel. That if I wanted to pass the Academy trial, I had to give everything. So I did. I stopped thinking. I stopped feeling…"
His voice faltered. "Today was the first time I let myself really remember her. I'm sorry… it won't happen again — I won't be a liability in a fight."
Syl didn't speak.
Then, slowly, she reached forward and touched his hand.
"Don't ever apologize for missing someone you love."
He didn't pull away, but he didn't speak either.
"You still came back to your senses. That's what matters."
He looked up, their eyes meeting again.
For once, he didn't seem guarded. Just tired, and maybe… seen.
"Thanks," his voice barely a whisper.
Syl pulled her hand back, folding it in her lap. "I'm just glad you're okay."
They stayed like that for a few more minutes, the glow of the essence rain illuminating their faces softly, until the last drop finally fell.
Syl let herself look at him a moment longer.
You saved me once when I was lost.
If you're the one who's lost now…
Then maybe it's my turn to guide you back.
But all she said was, "Thanks for trusting me."
Noah met her eyes.
He didn't look like someone made of shadows and silence.
He just looked… worn.