A knock came from the closed door in the Tavern. It belonged to a room that had been occupied for several years, on a door often closed.
The man sighed, rubbing the back of his messy brown hair as no response came from the inside. He rummaged through his pockets, littered with pieces of stray paper and wrappers, successfully finding a key.
He waited a beat before inserting it, twisting the door open with a click.
As soon as the door pushed open with a low creak, papers scattered across the floor, blown by the light wind created by the opening door. Papers, shredded by hand, left in chunks of what they once were.
Wrinkled papers that hung on the wall, half torn off. Books piled on every edge of the room, covering the bed—really, where did that person sleep?
There, in the center of the room, a man with dark eyes glanced up from the book in his hand, standing numbly.
Niklas sighed again, smiled. "What're you doing, Noah?"
He slipped off his long brown coat, hanging over his arm.
The destruction of the room reminded him of the event all those years ago. Noah's destruction, even in a storm of emotions, had always remained uncannily controlled. The dragon lived his whole life resisting himself.
The courtyard had been left in ruins after a vast shadow emerged above the Academy, large wings smashing stone statues and upturning hedges. Only after everything had been turned to ruin did the cracking of bones loudly echo through the air.
In the dust of destruction, Noah curled in the center as Niklas watched in horror, running from the dormitories. He watched Noah's bones snap into his body, a bloodied mess, clothes ruined.
He wondered in his distant and tangled thoughts if the dragon were in pain with his contorting body; if he had any capacity to consider his own pain in the midst of his sorrows.
He watched as the dragon slowly turned his pleading black gaze, the knowing despair written over the stern expression.
"Niklas." The dragon's voice had trembled. "Where's Kaden?"
And Niklas had never felt more despair, never felt more helpless knowing the only answer he could give was not one anybody wanted to hear.
He'd stared at the execution sight for hours, blankly staring at the blood steeping into the ground. The body had been cleaned, the crowd cleared, and for all he knew, he could do nothing.
He could do nothing, even when Nicola rushed up to the stage, furiously grabbing the Crown Prince by his collar.
"What have you done?" She hissed, her voice cracking. "Reed, what have you done?"
Reed's gaze seemed to flicker, the tip of an honest truth on his tongue. Instead, he replied coldly. "Miss Akasha. This was the execution of a murderer. It is unfortunate, I am grieved over the betrayal—"
"You are a liar, Reed, and all the elegant confidence you bask yourself in cannot hide that fact." She stepped back, her silky hair falling around her shoulder, hanging over her face in wild anguish. "And there is nothing more I wish for now than your ruination."
The professors had rushed up to stop the woman's outburst, but Reed held up a hand and silenced them. He carefully pried off her fingers, taking a deep breath.
"I'm sorry," he murmured, so quietly only she could hear.
Her teeth gritted together in a mixture of despair and despise before she shook her head, storming away from the crowd.
Nicola's grief, Noah's frustration. Arlo's disappearance and Holly's confusion.
His own helplessness.
Nobody had spoken in weeks after, returning to their own homes for the school break. When they reunited, sat around a round table in a private room, nobody had been willing to speak. To address the events they'd been trying to pretend never happened.
Noah had stood first, his chair scrapping against the ground. His frosty stare swept across them and he stated calmly, "I have no interest in basking in silence."
Then, he left the room without looking back.
Holly had lowered her head, guilt fluttering her long lashes. "I'm sorry," she said finally, on the verge of tears. "I'm sad, but I don't know what to say. I don't think my grief could compare to yours."
Nicola had reached forward slightly, her voice soft. "The extent of your grief or mine isn't a competition. If you're sad, Holly—"
"That's not it. I'm sorry. I'm sad, but I don't know what to think because I just—the facts that are presented to us, I'm sorry, Nicola. Niklas. But I have a feeling you both have absolute faith in Kaden, and I don't, so I don't know what to say."
After speaking, she sniffed and said farewell, leaving as well.
The door closed, and Niklas remained leaning in his seat silently. Nicola closed her eyes, narrow shoulders steadily rising with an exhale of breath.
Her hand trembled as she placed it gingerly over Niklas'. He did not stop her. "In the beginning, Niklas, you found me. This time it's my turn. If we cannot save him, then we can only honour the memory of him."
Her vision flickered white, images rushing past her eyes. Her cherry gaze widened slightly and he smiled mournfully.
The could only move forward, and that was an easy thing to say, and much harder to do. Despite their struggles, Nicola found a research career within the Academy, and Niklas set out to graduate.
Noah had graduated, drawing vivid lines between them all, and disappeared.
Niklas sighed, his thoughts dragged back to the present time. He bent down, gathering the shredded papers with a frown. "You were going to be an author, Noah. Don't go ripping up your ideas, it's a waste."
He continued, receiving no response. "What is this one? There's a cat in it right? I love cats, add three more. And— Noah?"
Noah remained standing in the center of the ripped papers, his voice a low, trembling breath. An usher of something he feared speaking aloud in case it was merely a dream.
"He's alive."
No name was uttered, but Niklas knew.
For there was only one person that could shake that dragon; who could disrupt his routine.
The papers and coat slipped out of Niklas' grasp as the cerulean eyes widened, shaking. White scattered onto the ground, a storm of paper cascading around them.
"We—" He paused, his voice strangling. "We saw his execution, Noah. I suspected it may be his delusion, sure, but he didn't have much control over it—"
Noah shook his head. "His blessing often acted when he didn't try to use it. He could manage some extent of control when intentionally using it, but the backlash would be worse. The execution would've distracted from most abnormalities."
"That's why that bastard made it public," muttered Niklas in following. "A loud announcement that caused chaos, but not everybody had time to witness the execution. It happened so suddenly, it caught everybody unaware. It was a bloody business—that was purposeful. Right. Right?"
He was more speaking to himself as he snatched his jacket, shrugging it over his broad shoulders and rushing to the door. "I need to go."
"Niklas. You never stopped looking for him, did you?"
In the past three years, the past one thousand ninety-five days, there hadn't been a day that Niklas didn't try to look for a ghost of the past. A pink-haired ghost.
But had any of them?
He turned his head back, smiling faintly. "I didn't know what else to do. Kaden's death was the last thing I could've predicted. Noah, you wanted to be an author, to open a bakery, maybe. You wanted to live a life that wasn't dictated by your blood."
He took a breath, frowning. "I'm your friend as well. If you get involved with this—"
"Reality is shaped by those who occupy it; dreams are always changing. Right now, neither my dreams nor reality can be understood without knowing the conclusion of that fool."
"Conclusion? Noah, what are you saying?"
"I'm a reader," said the man simply as if it answered everything. "I can love the story, but I cannot expect it to love me back. I can be satisfied after knowing the ending. If I know the story had concluded, I won't pine for another end."
"Noah." Niklas sucked in a breath, his hand waiting on the handle. "Are you abandoning Kaden?"
The dragon did not smile, he did not frown. There was nothing on his face. Nothing but two black pools of despairing eyes.
"I ran away to escape the loneliness my blood decided for me. The loneliness of abandonment is not what I escaped to find, either."
"Noah."
"Must I spend my entire life chasing a dream that denies me?"
Oh foolish dragon, Niklas wanted to lament. No matter how long he searched, it was only loneliness that greeted him, before in his life alone, after when he'd found somebody he wanted.
He couldn't deny Noah's words; this was no fantasy. The idealistic romance of chasing a person for eternity could ruin a person, and the dragon did not struggle for so long to be ruined by another's rejection.
But Noah, Niklas didn't dare to remind, if he really believed that, if he really wanted to let Kaden go—why was he returning to them now?
Noah hadn't been involved in anything all these years, rarely corresponding through letters. If he continued living in his own world, seeking adventures and curiosities without caring for Kaden Chauvet, he could.
He could, certainly more easily than any of them, live a life that never had to involve Kaden Chauvet. If he was determined to know the ending of that sinner, he could merely ask Niklas to tell him their successes or failures.
Instead of reminding Noah of these facts he was sure the dragon knew, he nodded. "I understand."
It had been only Noah that chose Kaden without hesitance, without a pull of fate encouraging him. Niklas, that bright day on the carriage, started a conversation knowing who Kaden was. Nicola, plagued by past guilts, could not forget about her salvation in the slums.
Reed, whose intentions were unknown, and Skye who loved the idea of family that the once-innocent Kaden presented to him.
From the beginning, Noah hadn't sheltered any judgments about the man, curious about the truth of the infamous Kaden Chauvet. He begun from a blank slate, motivated by neither love nor desperation, and chose to remain with him when he had nothing binding him to do so.
Niklas sighed and pulled the door open, light spilling inside. "I'm returning now, is it safe to assume you'll be coming back with me?" He smiled when Noah grabbed his own coat. "The misfits never stop causing havoc, hm?"
"Welcome back, Mr. Wolf."
After Kaden died, Noah had abandoned them too.
"I was thinking of recruiting some new people, but the Blessed are all terribly busy and cold, and regular people's staminas and strength are worse than the Blessed." He laughed distantly. "The Blessing that can kill us gives us both strength and power. Is it an honour?"
"The Blessed are naturally more gifted in physical ability?"
"Yes, Nicola wrote a paper on it. You didn't read it, really? I thought you were only pretending to ignore us. Of course, I already knew about it. I helped her—she credited me. You should read it."
"I'll consider it"
Niklas hummed, but his smile was real. "Consider it thoroughly. Really, Noah. It's... good to have you back."
———xxx———
Kaden stood in the throne room, on the carpet that led to a standing throne, decorated in riches and gold. A display of power manifested by wealth.
His hand folded behind his back, standing straight. For a second, as he waited, his eyes flickered left and right as if searching for something, or somebody. A shadow of an old memory—a bright smile that followed him.
Reed regarded him for a second and wondered, "Are you looking for something?"
"I'm wondering why you would leave yourself unguarded."
"Are you not loyal to me?"
Kaden raised his gaze, expression cold. But there it was, the spark of mischief and rebellion in those steely green eyes. A spark that had burned out long ago. "A King shouldn't trust even his closest aides."
"You're the exception." Reed smiled cruelly, tapping the back of his hand. "It's only you that cannot betray me."
"Only I?"
"Only you."
Something, a hint of emotion flickers in Kaden's gaze, and only a person that spend years, maybe a decade observing him would recognize it.
Kaden was still recovering from the aftermath of his grand-scale illusion cast years prior that left him in a near-dead state, and after, made him a doll that merely obeyed orders without emotion.
Kaden's healing was slowed by his unwillingness to take care of his health, and his continued abuse of his Blessing.
The brightest flames burned the fastest.
Reed's chest was seized by anxiety, chains tightening around his lungs. His hands squeezed around the throne, his voice tight. "Any updates on your target? Have you come closer to capturing him?"
"I met him. He is calculating and paranoid—it isn't viable to capture him through physical force."
"Then don't." Reed tapped the side of his head slowly. "Use other forces."
"...Yes. Is there anything else?"
"I've heard that a new intelligent researcher in the Academy has discovered several things about blessings, the Blessed and the Watchers. Find time to sneak in and find her notes. There are several things I'm curious about."
"Her name?"
"I'll inform you of the details at another time. Focus on your current task."
Kaden returned to his room, his body sliding to the ground as it always did. He was always lethargic, unwilling to move. The light had been left on, again.
He gathered up the books surrounding him, several having been opened and read. These words; these thoughts—how were they perceived and processed by others? How were these hidden meanings plucked and deciphered?
In reading these books, could he understand another person more?
He debated between rotting away in on the floor or answering the temptation of those ink pressed words filling his vision.
He snatched a pen and a loose paper, curling over himself to write. The pen touched the sheet, and it twirled and moved. He moved back, staring at the two words. Then, unsatisfied, he wrote it again.
Again and again as if he could pull them from paper and manifest them into reality, these two words that chased the fog clouding his head.
Four letters, seven letters.
Again, and again, and again. And when he stared at the paper covered in those two words, one identity, he felt that the creeping shadows weren't so scary anymore.
———xxx———
Lukiyo says,
Same replying to comments tomorrow, as always since I'm horrible inefficient at managing my time, but I do read through them in my emails and also notifications throughout the week and they are so, so lovely and intelligent and curious, and I think you all have such brilliant minds.
Today's question, because I have recently become interest in the favourites of others and what that implies (if it means anything) what is your favourite movie?
I know favourites are hard to pick, I couldn't say one. I recently think about the Shawshank Redemption, La La Land and Suzume, and all three are quite different.
However! If you can give me one (or let's say maximum three) that you think should absolutely be watched, please let me know! One that remains in your mind for a while (any genre is ok, I like psychological to romance to action, just not horror please!)
All the best!