[Months Before the War]
A week later, during the first quiet morning of the academy's long break, a letter arrived.for Draven.
The envelope was marked with the golden seal of Ravenwood's Knight Departnt. Draven sat by the window of his room, rain tapping against the glass, when he opened it.
It congratulated him.
He had been chosen — along with the most promising students of the Knight Departnt — to train under the Holy Knights of St. Eldred's Church for the next four months. A rare opportunity. An honor. A privilege.
He should have felt pride. Instead, all he felt was an emptiness that didn't fit anywhere.
---
The St. Eldred's Church stood on the Southern Continent — white spires, marble courtyards, and long halls echoing with the hymns of faith. The place slled of sanctified incense and steel oil, where prayers and weapon drills shared the sa rhythm.
Draven adapted quickly. Of course he did. He always had.
His instructors praised his discipline; the senior knights noted his natural coordination. In sparring matches, he could read movents before they even began, and when the week's trials ca, Draven outpaced n twice his age.
But the faster he grew, the lonelier it felt.
At night, when the bells went silent and the other initiates rested, Draven would stay behind in the training hall. He'd polish his blade until it reflected his face, and in the faint glow of the cathedral lamps, he would imagine Noah standing there across from him — that sa half-smirk, that sa unreadable gaze.
---
After two months, Draven was no longer a trainee ...he was one of the Holy Knights of St. Eldred. The youngest to ever bear the silver insignia.
But just when the ink on his promotion parchnt had dried, the bells of the continent tolled for war.
The Northern Kingdom had declared hostilities. Borders flared with conflict. The Church began sending out units to "protect the faithful."
Draven was drafted without hesitation.
He wasn't afraid — he was tired. Tired of wondering what direction Noah had taken, of replaying the last look he'd given him in the hallways of Ravenwood.
And before the first deploynt, in the quiet evening garden behind St. Eldred's, he t her — Maya Brenthall.
She wore the robes of a Saint Candidate, white and gold trimd, her red hair tied back neatly as she lit a candle for the wounded. They'd seen each other during lessons, talked during briefings, shared the occasional conversation about magic theories or battlefield ethics.
But that night, the war close enough to sll in the wind, they talked for hours. About the academy. About what they missed. About him.
---
"Have you never wondered," she asked, voice quiet, "why Noah was in the middle of every incident?"
Her eyes, a gentle maroon under the candlelight, looked at him not with accusation but pity.
Draven frowned. "He just...he was always there when trouble happened, that's all."
"Or maybe he was there because he prevented worse things from happening," Maya said softly. "The council never said it aloud, but most of us students who were at Ravenwood or those sohow close to him knew…
Every ti sothing could have gone wrong — a sabotage, a rogue summoning, a fire accident ...he was involved.
He was...always cleaning up soone else's ss."
Draven's hands tightened around the hilt resting on his lap. The cold of the tal seeped through his gloves.
Of course...Noah had saved most of the people Draven saw as friends and regarded as companions more tis than one could count.
---
When Draven heard, weeks later, that Noah Ashbourne had been sighted in the North — fighting for the enemy — he didn't believe it.
When confirmation ca from the High Command itself, his denial turned to disbelief.
And disbelief, to grief.
And grief, to anger.
He wanted to ask Noah why.
He wanted to demand an explanation, to punch his shoulder and call him a bastard for not telling him.
But above all, he wanted him back.
Because if soone had asked Draven why he was angry...
... truly angry...
... it wasn't because Noah fought for the North.
It was because he wasn't there anymore.
Because sowhere deep inside, Draven had always felt that Noah knew and saw him more than t the eye.
Even if that feeling was one-sided.
---
He thought about how things might have been different
If he had kept him there...in the academy where they all belonged.
Maybe there would have been no war.
Maybe the North and South wouldn't be drowning in blood.
Maybe Noah would still be that arrogant genius smirking over so impossible calculation in class...
---
Dravens mind drifted to a white place.
A boundless expanse that was bright.
There were people with uniforms of Ravenwood Academy... the deep navy blue trimd with gold glimred faintly in that white space.
There was Ariana, with her soft blonde hair tied with a ribbon, smiling nervously with a lollipop in her mouth while riding a spirit bear...
There was Elias the first year, blue-haired and awkward, who always looked up at Draven...
There was Rose, red curls bouncing as she argued with Elias about spell chanics with a sword sheath on one hand.
And the Princess as well...waving at them all.
Draven stood among them, smiling faintly, the familiar uniform resting easily on his shoulders.
The emblem of Ravenwood caught the light ...the mark of unity, of youth, of everything they once were.
Then, a few feet infront of them all... there was soone else.
Black hair, yellow lazy eyes...a blazer hanging lazily over his shoulder, that sa deliberate gait.
Noah.
Draven watched as he walked a few feet ahead further ahead through the white expanse, his back straight, pace steady.
Draven simply smiled.
He began walking faster too.
Soon, all of them did...Ariana, Elias, Rose, the Princess all following behind him, as though so invisible pull guided them.
The light ahead grew brighter, so bright it stung the eyes.
And Noah never looked back.
Draven didn't mind.
He'd always known Noah was the kind of person who walked ahead.
That was what drew him to him in the first place.
That was it...
Draven...had always included Noah in the small family he had at Ravenwood Academy.
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