The familiar gates of the academy loomed into view, a stark contrast to the harsh, unforgiving landscape we had just left behind. As the carriage rolled to a stop, I stepped out and took a deep breath, trying to shake off the lingering weight of the past month. The academy bustled with activity, students chattering and laughing as they hurried to their classes. It felt strange to be back, as if I were returning to a life that no longer quite fit.
I spotted Indraneel standing near the entrance, his shoulders slumped and his expression unreadable. He looked like an empty shell, his eyes devoid of the usual spark. He was even more withdrawn than he had been at the camp, if that was even possible. A wave of concern washed over me, reinforcing my resolve to fulfill the unspoken promise I had made to myself. Academy life resumed its rhythm, but for me, things were different. The carefree atmosphere of the other students only amplified Indraneel's desolate state.
Classes had started, but I was too distracted to focus. My thoughts kept drifting back to Indraneel, to the way he had looked when the King's order was announced, to the haunted expression that now seemed permanently etched on his face. I accidentally bumped into him in the hallway, my textbooks scattering across the floor. I reached out to help him up, but he just stared at me blankly, as if he didn't even register my presence. Then, without a word, he turned and walked away, leaving me kneeling there, my heart aching with a worry I couldn't ignore.
Determined to find a way to help Indraneel, I went to the library to try and finish my assigned reading, hoping I would find him there to talk with him. I spotted him sitting alone in a dimly lit corner, staring out the window, lost in a world of his own. He looked so utterly alone, so completely broken, that I knew I couldn't just leave him there.
Taking a deep breath, I walked towards him, my heart pounding in my chest. "Indraneel," I said softly, hoping not to startle him. He didn't react, didn't even acknowledge my presence. I hesitated for a moment, then pulled up a chair and sat down beside him, careful to maintain a respectful distance. The silence stretched between us, thick with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. Finally, I spoke again, my voice barely above a whisper. "Are you okay?"
He finally turned to me, his eyes filled with a mixture of pain and anger. "Okay?" he said, his voice laced with bitterness. "How can you even ask me that? Elian is gone! Vanished! And everyone else just seems to have forgotten about him, as if he never even existed." He paused, his gaze hardening. "But I haven't forgotten. And I won't let anyone else forget either." His eyes bored into mine. "And don't pretend you don't know why this happened! It's your fault, Quincey. If you hadn't arrived, Elian would still be here."
Indraneel's words struck me like a physical blow. The pain in his voice was a mirror to the guilt that had been gnawing at me since the moment Elian disappeared. He was right. If I hadn't come, Elian would still be here. "You're right," I whispered, my voice choked with emotion. "It's my fault. I... I don't know what to say. I'm so sorry." Tears welled up in my eyes. "Tell me what I can do. Anything. I'll do anything to make this right, to repent for what happened. Just tell me."
Even as the words left my lips, I knew I meant them with every fiber of my being. Whatever he asked of me, no matter how difficult or painful, I would do it. Even if it broke me, I would do it. Seeing Indraneel suffer like this was far more unbearable than any personal sacrifice I could make.
Indraneel sighed, a sound wrenched from the depths of his soul, heavy with a despair that felt like a flock of wounded birds trapped in his chest, beating their wings against bone. Then, his voice a mere rasp, barely audible above the frantic flutter of that inner turmoil, he asked, "What could you possibly do?"
I hesitated, the weight of his grief a suffocating blanket, stealing the air from my lungs. I searched his ravaged face, desperate to find some purchase, some way to alleviate the agony etched into every line. "I don't know," I confessed, the words a fragile offering, barely daring to break the oppressive silence of the library. "But I'll do anything. Tell me what you want, what you need. I owe you that much, at the very least."
Indraneel turned to me, his eyes burning with a mixture of disgust and disbelief that felt like a physical blow, shattering the fragile hope that had begun to blossom in my chest. It was a look that stripped away any remaining pretense, laying bare the raw, gaping wound of his loss. "It's useless," he spat out, the words, sharp-edged and bitter, like shards of glass thrown in my face. "Nothing you could do will bring Elian back. Don't you understand? He's gone." The word "gone" hung in the air, a final, echoing pronouncement that Elian was lost forever. "And you... you can't fix that." He abruptly turned his gaze away, staring back out the window, as if I had become invisible, inconsequential, a ghost haunting the edges of his grief.
Swallowing hard, I forced myself to speak, though the words felt clumsy and inadequate. "I... I should go. I'll leave you to... to rest." I took a step back, my hand hovering awkwardly in the air before dropping to my side. "Please, Indraneel, if you need anything... anything at all..." My voice trailed off, unable to articulate the depth of my helplessness.
Indraneel's voice, devoid of all emotion, cut through my stammering apologies. "I wish it were you," he said, his words like a shard of ice against my skin. "I wish you were gone instead of Elian."
The air left my lungs, and for a moment, I simply stood there, paralyzed by the brutal honesty of his grief. With a final, lingering look at his rigid back, I turned and quietly left the library, the heavy door clicking shut behind me like a closing tomb.