It was real.
No sterile walls. No endless illusion. No gods.
Ho.
He pressed a hand to the fra, bowing his head. His chest heaved, a sharp breath breaking through his control.
Elara’s voice was soft behind him. "...rlin?"
He didn’t answer at first. He just stood there, letting the air wash over him. The faint sll of parchnt, the familiar creak of the floorboards, it was all there.
Finally, he whispered. "...I thought I’d never see this again."
The others didn’t speak. For once, even Adrian held his tongue.
Liliana stepped forward, her voice gentle. "It waited for you."
rlin closed his eyes, letting the words settle.
When he opened them again, his golden gaze burned brighter than before.
He was back.
Not in a bed. Not in a cage. Not in the gods’ theater.
Back where he belonged.
And though the road ahead still twisted with shadows he hadn’t dared share, not Rathan, not the stars, not the truth of the gods, rlin knew one thing for certain.
He would not let this place be taken from him again.
—
The air in the room still slled faintly of dust.
rlin sat on the edge of his bed, running his hand absently across the worn fabric of the quilt, tracing the familiar patterns like he needed to confirm they were still there.
Each breath felt fuller than it had in the infirmary, though his body protested with every movent. The exhaustion wasn’t just physical, it was mory, weight, and the quiet hum of knowing he was finally here.
The others had left him not long ago, each of them with their own words of encouragent. Nathan had promised to drag him out for a al the mont he could stomach real food.
Adrian had muttered sothing about breaking in the new training fields together "when you’re not walking like a grandpa." Elara had said nothing, only lingering for an extra second at the threshold before her silver hair slipped out of sight.
And now, silence.
rlin leaned back against the wall, head tilted up, eyes half-lidded. His own room. His own desk. His own window overlooking the quiet courtyard. He should have felt peace.
Instead, his chest ached with sothing he couldn’t na.
A soft knock broke the stillness.
He blinked, straightening. "...Co in."
The door opened, hinges creaking slightly.
Victoria stepped inside.
Her hair, darker than his, was tied back in a simple braid. She wore a plain blouse and skirt, clothes marked with the faint wrinkles of soone who had been on her feet all day. Her hands were careful as she carried a small basket, fresh flowers spilling color over its rim.
She paused at the doorway, her violet eyes scanning the room, the narrow bed, the books, the faint lines of dust where things hadn’t been touched in months.
"So this is it," she murmured.
rlin rose slowly, bracing himself on the bedpost. "Victoria..."
Her gaze landed on him then, and for a heartbeat she seed to freeze. Not because of his condition, she had already seen him in the infirmary, pale and thin, clinging to strength he barely had. But because he was standing in this room. His own. A place she had never stepped inside.
She moved carefully forward, setting the basket down on the desk. The flowers leaned against a half-finished stack of parchnt notes, their scent brightening the stale air.
"It’s smaller than I imagined," she said quietly, her eyes moving from the bed to the shelves.
rlin gave a crooked smile. "Smaller than ho."
Her lips pressed together. She reached out, brushing her fingers across the edge of his desk as though testing its weight. "...Do you like it better here?"
The question hung heavy between them.
rlin studied her face, the faint crease of worry between her brows, the tension in her shoulders. She wasn’t just asking about the room.
He exhaled slowly, lowering himself back onto the bed. "It’s closer."
Victoria blinked. "Closer?"
He nodded toward the window, where the courtyard stretched beyond, where the academy walls rose just past the trees. "If I stayed at the apartnt with you, I’d have to travel every day. Taxi rides. Longer mornings. More eyes on . Here..." He gestured vaguely. "I wake up, and the academy is right outside. No wasted steps."
Her arms folded across her chest, though not in anger. She leaned against the desk, her eyes never leaving him. "...So it’s convenience."
rlin shrugged faintly. "Mostly."
She studied him a mont longer before sighing. "You’ve always been like this. Practical to the point of coldness."
A flicker of irritation sparked in his chest, but he smothered it. "...You’d prefer I lie and say I feel at ho here?"
Her eyes softened then. "No. I’d prefer you admit you don’t want to make things harder for ."
rlin froze.
Victoria’s voice lowered, almost breaking. "You’re my brother. You were gone for so long, rlin. And when I finally see you again, you’re... here, in these walls, still half a ghost. Do you have any idea what it was like, walking into our apartnt every night and seeing your empty room?"
His chest clenched. The words dug deeper than any blade.
"Victoria..." He started, then stopped. His voice faltered, brittle. "...I didn’t ask to disappear."
"I know." She shook her head quickly, stepping toward him. "I know. I’m not blaming you. I just—" She broke off, closing her eyes. "I just wanted to keep you close. After everything, I thought maybe... maybe you’d want to co ho."
The silence between them stretched long.
rlin stared at his hands, fingers trembling faintly. He could still hear the echo of steel-grey eyes in the garden, the words that had branded themselves into him: "If you cannot stand in truth, you are already broken."
Truth.
He swallowed hard. "...I do want to co ho."
Victoria’s eyes opened, locking on his.
"But right now," rlin continued, voice low, steady, "I need to be here. Because if I’m going to get back what I lost, if I’m going to... stand again, I can’t do it from a distance. I have to be where it happens. Even if it hurts."
Her lips parted, as if to argue, but then her shoulders slumped. Her eyes glistened faintly, though she blinked the tears back before they could fall.
"...That’s your answer, then."
rlin managed a weak smile. "That’s my answer."
For a long ti, neither spoke. The sound of students faintly laughing in the courtyard below drifted through the window, the academy alive with the rhythm of its own pulse.
Finally, Victoria stepped closer, her hand brushing against his hair like she used to when they were younger.
"You stubborn idiot," she whispered.
rlin chuckled faintly, leaning into the touch despite himself. "...Runs in the family."
She laughed softly, the sound breaking the weight in the air.
"I’ll still co by," she said finally. "Flowers. Food. Annoyance. Don’t think you’re rid of just because you’ve got walls of your own now."
rlin’s chest eased. "...Good."
Because as much as he needed to be here, as much as he needed this room, this academy, this step forward, he still needed her.
She stayed with him until the lamps outside began to glow, until the chatter of students dimd into the quiet of curfew. When she finally left, the room felt both emptier and fuller at once.
rlin sat by the window, watching the faint shimr of stars overhead, the glow of the courtyard lamps below. His hand rested against the flowers she’d left, their scent a reminder of both her presence and her persistence.
And for the first ti since the labyrinth, since the endless simulation, rlin let himself whisper into the quiet—
"...I’m ho."
—
The morning sun crept lazily across the curtains, spilling thin ribbons of gold through the cracks and across rlin’s face. He stirred slowly, groaning at the heaviness in his limbs. His body still fought him every ti he tried to rise, as though it resented being pulled from the safety of stillness.
But this wasn’t the sterile quiet of the infirmary.
This was his own room.
He blinked at the desk piled with parchnt and scattered books, at the half-open wardrobe with his academy uniform hanging neatly inside, at the flowers in the corner, Victoria’s flowers. Their faint fragrance lingered in the air, soft but grounding.
rlin exhaled, rubbing at his eyes. "...Still here."
His body ached, his muscles weak, but when his feet hit the floor, the cold tile steadied him. He stretched carefully, testing his limits. Still fragile, still slow, but his movents no longer collapsed beneath him. Each step was proof that he was clawing his way back.
The academy bells rang faint in the distance, their chi rolling over the campus like a call to arms. Students would be gathering now, spilling into the corridors, books tucked under arms, sparring weapons rattling against belts.
For a mont rlin stood there, debating. He could stay in. Rest. No one would bla him.
But sothing inside hissed against the thought. He had already lost enough ti.
Pulling on his uniform, adjusting the black collar with stiff fingers, he caught his reflection in the window. Pale still, thinner than he rembered, golden eyes dulled but steady.
Not the warrior he had glimpsed in the labyrinth. Not the towering figure Rathan had forced into his soul.
But himself.
And that would have to be enough.
—
The classroom humd with noise when he finally stepped inside. Conversations overlapped, students comparing notes, arguing about elental techniques, laughing too loud at soone’s joke.
The mont rlin crossed the threshold, voices faltered.
Dozens of eyes flicked toward him, so wide with surprise, others narrowing in curiosity. Whispers crawled at the edges of the room.
"That’s him..."
"He’s back already?"
"I thought he wouldn’t..."
rlin ignored them, his golden eyes scanning the room. Nathan raised an arm from the back row, waving like a fool, grinning as if rlin’s return was the single greatest victory in the world.
Adrian beside him gave a casual nod, though his amber eyes lingered longer, gauging rlin’s strength even from here.
Elara sat near the window, her posture straight, silver hair catching the morning light. She didn’t wave, didn’t smile, but her gaze found his and held for the briefest second before drifting back to her book.
rlin exhaled, slipping into the seat beside Nathan. The whispers behind him rose again, but he let them fade into background noise.
"You look less dead today," Nathan said cheerfully.
rlin smirked. "That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to all week."
"Hey, I call it like I see it." Nathan leaned closer, voice lowering. "Seriously, though... good to have you back."
rlin’s throat tightened unexpectedly. He turned his eyes forward, hiding the crack in his composure. "...Good to be back."
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