No Path Chosen

The man stepped forward, shadows parting around his tall frame. His voice was calm, but carried weight.

"Velric Thorneveil," he said. "Gloamwarden."

Lucian stiffened. Silas narrowed his eyes.

"We keep the Silent Chord in check," Velric added, as if reading their thoughts.

Silas didn't wait. "Then why don't you stop them?" he asked, his tone sharp. "You know what they're doing. They're criminals."

Velric glanced at the boy in Silas' arms, then to Harry—bloodied, barely conscious.

"Let's get the kids home first," he said. "We'll talk after. They need to be safe."

He raised a gloved hand, and from the surrounding shadows, more Gloamwardens emerged—silent figures in black and purple, feathers lining their cloaks, masks half-hidden beneath their caps.

Lucian looked to Silas. Silas gave a small nod.

"Send Harry to the Earthenest," he said firmly.

Velric nodded once. "Of course."

Two Gloamwardens moved toward them, one carrying a stretcher already prepared. Leon held onto Harry tightly before letting him go, rage simmering in his chest. His hands were clenched. His jaw, tight. He didn't speak—but his silence screamed guilt.

"I shouldn't have left him…"

Silas placed a hand on Leon's shoulder.

"You guys go," he said. "Tell Eva everything. She deserves to know what we're dealing with. But not Mother Caramel. Not yet."

Leon hesitated. Then nodded.

The others followed the Gloamwardens down the dim street, disappearing one by one into the veil of night.

Silas remained, facing Velric.

The street was quiet again.

Lucian and Leon finally reached home.

Leon didn't say a word. His face was pale, eyes downcast.

One of the Gloamwardens, the tallest of the three who'd accompanied them, stepped closer to Lucian.

"We'll be guarding this area for now," he said quietly. "You're under watch. Nothing will happen to you—we'll make sure of it."

Lucian nodded, still shaken.

Leon raised his head slightly. "Is Harry… okay?"

The man gave a slow, reassuring nod. "He's being treated at the Earthenest. Give it a day or two—he'll be back on his feet."

Leon let out a breath. His shoulders eased just a little.

They stepped inside.

Claire was waiting in the hall. "You're back!" she said, but her smile faded when she saw their expressions.

Lucian barely glanced up. "Where's Eva?"

Without a word, Claire turned and led them upstairs.

They found Eva in the library, deep in study. She looked up, surprised to see them both standing there, worn and silent.

Then they told her everything.

No details were spared.

Claire stayed outside the door, pressed gently against the wall, listening.

When it was over, Eva stood in stunned silence. Then she moved quickly, wrapping both of them in her arms.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "From now on… I'll protect you. Both of you."

Leon didn't answer.

But for the first time that night, his eyes closed—just for a moment.

And he breathed.

Later that night, the room was quiet, save for the faint ticking of the old wall clock and the soft rustle of bedsheets.

Leon lay on his side, staring at the wall. His mind wouldn't stop turning.

Lucian's voice broke the silence.

"I think you should stop it."

Leon turned slightly, just enough to see him across the room.

Lucian didn't look at him. He was lying on his back, hands behind his head.

"Being reckless like that… it's dangerous. And it cost Harry."

His voice was steady, but low. "We're just kids. Even with your power—we're still powerless."

A long pause.

Leon's voice came out quiet.

"That's why I need to get stronger."

He looked down at his hands. "So I can protect us."

Lucian finally turned to face him.

"Since when was that your job?"

Leon said nothing.

Lucian's voice softened, almost pleading.

"Let's not do this anymore, Leon. Let's just enjoy being kids. Go to school. Study hard. Grow up safe. Not get ourselves killed."

The words hit deeper than Lucian knew.

Leon turned back to the wall, his eyes wide open in the dark.

Leon stayed silent.

But he didn't sleep for a long time after that.

Not with those words still echoing in his head.

The next morning, Lucian woke to find Leon's bed empty.

The blanket was barely touched.

A flicker of worry sparked in his chest.

Not again...

He got up quickly, slipped on his slippers, and checked the hallway. No sign of him. The main room was quiet. Kitchen—empty.

Then he stepped out back.

There, in the soft light of dawn, was Leon.

Alone in the backyard, sleeves rolled up, breath misting in the cold morning air. He moved through the motions again and again—his hand flicking forward, summoning a faint pulse of force that trembled and vanished. A failed strike. He tried again. And again.

Lucian blinked.

"It's early morning. How did you even wake up this early?"

Leon didn't stop moving. "I couldn't sleep."

Lucian watched for a beat, then sighed. "I'll join you... after breakfast."

Leon gave a faint nod.

Lucian turned and walked back inside.

After a shower and a plate of eggs and jam-slathered toast, he returned—this time with Claire and Eva behind him. Claire had insisted on tagging along, and Eva, curious, followed too.

Out back, Leon was still at it.

His breathing was heavier now, sweat dotting his brow, but his focus hadn't wavered. Each movement was sharper, each strike steadier. There was something in his eyes—quiet and fierce.

Claire stepped up beside Lucian, arms crossed.

"He's been doing this since dawn?"

Lucian nodded. "Didn't stop once."

Eva didn't say anything. But she watched closely, her expression unreadable.

There was no boasting in Leon's posture. No show.

Just silent, stubborn resolve.

And for the first time, Claire and Eva saw it too.

By mid-morning, the backyard had turned into a quiet training ground.

Leon stood in the center, sleeves rolled up, sweat on his brow. He kept flicking his hand forward, trying to release a steady pulse of energy. It sparked, cracked, then fizzled out. But he didn't stop. His expression was focused—determined, even when his breathing grew uneven.

Off to the side, Lucian was training with a wooden sword.

He faced Dondo, the old training dummy they had found in storage weeks ago. Its patched-up body leaned slightly, but it held firm with every strike.

Lucian tightened his grip and swung again. His form wasn't refined, but he moved with growing confidence—testing, learning by doing. Every time he missed or slipped, he adjusted and tried again.

He didn't need instruction.

He just kept going.

A little while later, Eva stepped outside with a pile of tools and gear in her arms—resonance stones, chalk, stabilizers, and some old metal scraps.

"If you're all doing this seriously now," she muttered, setting things down, "I might as well help you not break anything."

She walked over to Leon and started drawing a ring of chalk around his feet. She placed small rune-stamped rods into the dirt, carefully spacing them.

"Step in the middle," she said. "It'll help focus the energy without scattering it."

Leon followed her instructions without a word.

Then Claire came out with her notebook in hand.

She didn't say anything right away—just stood at the edge of the backyard, watching them train.

Leon. Lucian. Eva.

She opened her notebook and started writing—marking down movements, angles, and anything she could observe.

After a moment, she spoke up.

"Eva. Can you make me a bow?"

Eva blinked, caught off guard. "A bow?"

"Yes." Claire flipped to a new page and showed a quick sketch. "Simple. I don't need it to be perfect."

"Why?"

Claire looked down at her notebook, then back up.

"Because after hearing what happened… I don't want to be the only one left doing nothing."

Eva watched her for a long second, then sighed.

"Fine. But if it stings your wrist when you shoot wrong, don't come crying to me."

Claire smiled. "I won't."

Lucian continued striking Dondo in the background, his breath heavy now.

Leon stood in the middle of the chalk circle, pulse of power flickering to life in his hand.

They weren't talking much.

But they were moving forward.

And none of them wanted to fall behind.

A while later, the back door opened.

"Claire."

They turned to see Mother Caramel standing at the doorway. Her clothes were clean and proper, not a speck of dust or flour on her. Her voice was calm, but carried the weight of habit and authority.

Claire stood up from where she'd been sitting and walked toward her.

"Yes, Mother?"

Mother Caramel looked past her, eyes briefly scanning the backyard.

"Where are Harry and Silas?" she asked.

Leon and Lucian exchanged a quick glance.

"They went out for a while," Lucian answered. "They'll be back soon."

Mother Caramel gave a small nod. She didn't press further.

Then she looked to Claire again.

"Come. I need you."

Claire glanced back at the others for a moment, then followed without question. The door closed quietly behind them.

Eva, still crouched near her tools, adjusted the half-shaped bow on her lap.

"What does she want with Claire…?" she muttered under her breath.

No one answered.

But the rhythm of the training had shifted, ever so slightly.

As if something unseen had just begun.

As the sun climbed higher, the boys kept training without pause

Their shirts clung to their backs, soaked through, their brows slick with sweat—but neither of them paused. Leon's strikes, once flickering and faint, were now steadier, the energy pulses forming for a full second before fading. Lucian, across from Dondo, had begun adjusting his footing, finding a rhythm with each wooden sword swing that didn't exist hours earlier.

Eva, seated on the bench near the wall, wiped soot from a newly curved frame.

"Done," she muttered, rising to her feet.

Just then, Claire stepped out of the house. She walked toward Eva, slower than usual.

"Claire, look." Eva lifted the bow, simple and clean, made just her size. A few dull practice arrows were tied in a small bundle beside it. "I just finished it."

Claire didn't smile. Her hands were folded tightly in front of her.

"There's… something I need to tell you," she said.

Eva's brows drew together. "What is it?"

Claire looked down. "There's a couple. They want to adopt me."

Eva blinked.

Claire kept her voice low. "Mother Caramel told me just now. They're coming back next week."

The sounds of Leon's strikes and Lucian's sword echoed faintly behind them.

Claire stared at the ground. "They sound kind. They want to give me a proper home. And I know I should be happy. But..."

She hesitated, then looked up. Her voice cracked.

"I don't want to leave. Not like this. Not now. I finally feel like I belong here—with you, with them. I don't want to start over."

She swallowed. "What if I go, and I never see you again?"

Eva gently set the bow down. She stepped closer, placing a hand on Claire's shoulder.

"Then we make sure that doesn't happen," she said. "You're one of us, Claire. No matter what your last name is, or where you end up sleeping. That doesn't change."

Claire said nothing, but her hands slowly loosened.

"And," Eva added, a small smirk tugging at her mouth, "I didn't make that bow just to watch it gather dust in someone's hallway."

Claire finally exhaled. Not quite a smile, but close.

"…I'm going to try," she said quietly. "Try to talk to Mother Caramel. Maybe… I can ask for more time. Or figure something out."

Eva gave a single nod. "That's more like it."

Behind them, Lucian continued his rhythm, adjusting his grip with each swing. Leon stood firm, a flicker of power now sparking cleanly in his hand.

The day was still moving forward.

Even if change was coming.

Later that night, the common room was quiet, lit by the soft golden glow of a single lamp.

Claire sat curled on the couch, notebook open in her lap, eyes scanning notes from earlier. Lucian leaned over the armrest, half-studying, half-nodding off. Leon sat cross-legged on the floor, flipping through an old theory book. Eva was nearby, tools and scribbled papers scattered around her as she tinkered with a small device between breaks.

It was a rare moment of peace.

The front door creaked open.

Footsteps.

They all turned.

Silas stepped inside—coat dusted, a faint tiredness in his eyes. Silas didn't speak of what was said after they left. But it wasn't him they stared at.

Behind him stood a boy with short, sky-blue hair.

His clothes were slightly scuffed. A wooden practice sword was slung across his back.

He looked around at them—then gave a small, familiar grin.

"Servin!!"

The room erupted.

Claire nearly dropped her notebook. Lucian sat upright so fast he knocked over his pencil cup. Leon stood in stunned silence before breaking into a grin.

Even Eva froze, blinking in disbelief.

"You're back?" Lucian asked, hurrying over.

"You're alive?" Eva said flatly, eyes narrowing in disbelief.

"We thought—" Claire started.

Servin raised a hand, laughing lightly. "I missed you too."

Leon looked at Silas.

Silas gave him a subtle nod.

Whatever had happened, Servin was here now.

And the room didn't feel so quiet anymore.