Morning did not arrive with warmth.
It arrived with pale, silver silence, as though the sun itself hesitated to trespass upon land that had only yesterday settled the weight of blood and vow. A thin frost covered the cobblestones of the Vanhart court, glinting beneath the soft sheen of dawn like fragments of night reluctant to fade.
The air held stillness.
Not mournful.
Not heavy.
Rather, pausing, like the moment before footsteps begin down a path that can no longer be retraced.
Reina stood along the steps of the manor entrance, her cloak pulled close as she watched stable hands prepare the Malloren carriage. A small plume of vapor left her lips with each breath. Landon stood several paces behind, silent, arms crossed beneath his fur-lined mantle. His eyes remained fixed ahead, yet there was scrutiny in them—as if memorizing the scene without consciously intending to.
Lysenne Malloren sat within the carriage, wrapped in layered blankets, her cheeks holding the faint rose of recovering health. Her hands rested upon her lap, fingers curled lightly, tension betraying excitement and anxiety. Though she could not step down on her own yet, she maintained the posture of nobility—chin gently raised, eyes bright, resolute.
She glanced once toward the manor doors.
As if waiting.
As if searching for someone.
Lorian Malloren, Viscount of frost-hardened resolve, stood near the carriage, speaking with Count Edward Vanhart in low tones. Both men wore expressions of sobriety, though in Lorian's gaze, something softer glimmered—like ice beginning to fracture beneath the first sign of spring.
Edward spoke first.
"Should you require escorts for the journey, I can allocate riders to shadow your carriage until the ridge pass."
Lorian shook his head with measured calm.
"There's no longer threat on these roads."
His eyes flicked toward the far field—the one newly revived under Kel's design.
"Not while he is here."
The count's gaze followed his.
A beat.
A silent understanding.
Then—
"Regardless…" Edward murmured, "steer carefully, my friend."
Lorian's lips curved into the faintest of smiles.
"I will. This time… I do not travel alone."
He turned toward the carriage. "And… I return with hope."
Edward nodded.
There were no more words between them.
Some promises did not need repetition.
Kel Arrives
Just then, the manor doors opened.
Kel stepped into the morning light.
His silhouette was slim, but the way he held himself made the space around him still. He wore only a simple dark tunic beneath his travel coat, his hair tousled slightly from the wind or perhaps sleep. There was no expression of authority on his face—only a quiet awareness, as though he had already measured this moment before it arrived.
When his eyes met Lorian's, the viscount bowed slightly—not as noble to noble, but as a man to the one who had altered his path.
Kel returned no gesture.
He simply approached the carriage.
Snow crunched lightly beneath his boots.
He came to stand beside the open window and looked at Lysenne.
Her breath caught.
"…Young Master Kel," she said softly.
Her voice trembled—not from weakness, but from the memory of five days under his care, of hands that rewove broken limbs, of a boy who had not looked at her like she was fragile.
Kel offered a barely perceptible nod.
"Walk slowly when your legs begin responding. Don't force them before the fibers settle."
Lysenne nodded quickly.
"Yes. I will… try to."
Kel's eyes drifted briefly to her legs beneath the blankets.
Then back to her face.
Something almost akin to gentleness passed through his tone.
"Pain teaches. But it does not need to stay to prove its lesson."
For a breath, her eyes widened.
Then softened.
"...I understand."
He stepped back.
Turning to Lorian.
"There will be minor echo pain after five days. Use the oil twice daily."
Lorian nodded.
"Understood."
Kel's next words were low enough that only the viscount heard.
"And don't let her cling to guilt."
Lorian's eyes lowered.
"She won't. Not after the way you spoke to her father yesterday."
Kel did not reply.
He had no memory of speaking kindly.
He only remembered speaking honestly.
The difference, perhaps, was what they felt.
Farewell
The carriage driver took his place, reins held firm. The horses snorted, plumes rising in the chill air. Stable gates began to open slowly.
Lysenne watched Kel carefully.
Like trying to memorize a moment she was afraid would fade.
"May we meet again?" she asked softly.
Kel paused.
Wind stirred his coat.
He did not turn fully toward her.
Only his eyes shifted.
"We will."
Three words.
Plain.
Unadorned.
But the way she inhaled—it was as though he had just spoken a future into certainty.
She bowed her head, palms folded over her lap.
"Then… I will stand when that day comes."
His gaze lingered one heartbeat longer.
Then fell away.
The carriage began to move.
Wheels crunching over fresh snow.
Lorian gave a final nod toward Kel.
Count Vanhart stepped aside.
Reina watched silently.
Landon's breath left him in a slow exhale.
Kel turned from the road just as the carriage passed through the gates.
He did not look back.
But inside the carriage, Lysenne did.
Through frost-veiled glass, her eyes followed him.
Only when his form finally vanished behind stone walls—
did she close her eyes and whisper,
"…That boy is terrifying."
Then, almost smiling.
"And I'm glad he is."
After They Left
Outside, the courtyard slowly emptied.
Inside, Kel walked back through the hallway, his expression unchanged.
But deep inside his mind—
a line of text ran through his thoughts,
NPC emotional state change detected.
Potential future arc deviation confirmed.
He exhaled silently.
Good.