The leaves of a tree grow side by side.
Yet when they fall, they fall alone.
Damien woke to unfamiliar stillness.
He lay in a vast, spotless palace room, light spilling softly across marble floors. Fresh clothes were neatly hung on a dresser, untouched. After a moment of hesitation, he found the bathroom, washed away the lingering fatigue, and dressed.
Stepping out into the palace corridors, he was met with silence—thick and unsettling. No footsteps, no voices, only the distant, constant rush of water.
He followed the sound until the palace opened into a breathtaking space. A massive opening replaced what should have been a window, its edges bare, intentional. Beyond it, a waterfall plunged endlessly into clouds below.
Perched at the edge sat Derian.
He didn't turn as Damien approached. Without speaking, Damien lowered himself beside him. It was only then he noticed—the palace wasn't grounded.
It was floating.
Derian glanced at him briefly, eyes unreadable, then returned his gaze to the waterfall.
"So," Damien said at last, breaking the silence, "how long was I out?"
"A week," Derian replied, barely louder than the wind.
Damien nodded. He was about to ask about Reinna when Derian spoke again.
"And if you're wondering about Reinna," he said evenly, "she already left. Said she wanted to check on Ramien."
"Oh." Damien paused. "Alright."
Neither of them was one for unnecessary words. The quiet settled again—awkward, heavy, but not uncomfortable. Just two figures sitting at the edge of the floating castle, listening to the water fall.
Alone, together.
"Why did you put so much effort into ensuring my safety?" Damien asked suddenly.
Derian stiffened.
For a moment, Damien thought he wouldn't answer. Then Derian exhaled quietly. "You're my only friend." He turned slightly, eyes settling on Damien. "Without you, I'd be alone. No student in the academy can beat me."
He paused, thinking. "Well… maybe Ramien. If he ever stopped holding back his dragon."
Damien absorbed that before asking, "Then what's between you and Reinna? Why do you dislike her?"
Derian looked away, gaze drifting back to the waterfall. His response came a second too late.
"She's a female D. We're males. She makes me uncomfortable—that's all."
Damien hummed, nodding, though he didn't miss the way Derian's words felt incomplete. Half a truth, perhaps—but he let it rest.
"I'm okay now," Damien said after a while. "When can we return?"
"The academy's still recovering," Derian replied. "Overseer Donald and several professors fell in the battle. Every parent has been summoned—they'll arrive in three days. We can return then."
Damien agreed.
It was serious. It had to be. No parent would accept losing a child in an attempt to stop a rampaging dragon. Whatever judgment awaited Ramien would not be light.
But Damien knew one thing.
If Xyldrak still lived, it would rise again—
and it would not abandon its master when the multitude came. For now, Ramien was safe. No one knew the truth of who Xyldrak belonged to.
It stung when Derian mentioned Overseer Donald's death. The pain lingered quietly, but what was done could not be undone.
The next three days passed in a slow, muted blur—soft conversations, long stretches of silence, the constant murmur of the waterfall in the distance, and Derian hovering over Damien like an overprotective guardian, treating him less like a peer and more like a fragile child.
Then came the day they had to leave the palace.
Derian summoned his Komodo construct, and they rode in silence until the familiar outline of the academy's banner came into view. Towering spires rose ahead of them, bearing the words Blackspire Academy.
Derian placed his hand against the spire. The barrier tore open.
The sight stirred memories of their first day—the awe, the promise, the feeling that this place was untouchable.
But the moment they crossed through, that illusion shattered.
The academy lay in ruins.
What once stood for comfort, security, and learning had been reduced to broken stone and silence. Towers lay collapsed, fountains cracked and dry, pathways buried beneath rubble. The warmth that once filled the grounds was gone.
Students had lost friends. Some had lost siblings. Others had lost the professors they admired and trusted.
The academy no longer whispered ambition or wonder—it screamed grief.
As the two boys walked through the wreckage, past fallen walls and shattered halls, neither spoke. Their emotions tangled—sorrow, disbelief, and something heavier beneath it all.
No one would have believed it, if told that Blackspire Academy would one day become this.
A flying gryphon descended, informing them that the survivors had gathered at the Assembly Ground, deep within the academy. It was a place rarely spoken of, never used—until now. By some miracle, it was the only part of the academy left untouched.
When they arrived, Damien scanned the crowd, his eyes moving quickly until they landed on Victor and Ace. He headed toward them at once. Behind him, Derian stopped, watching Damien go.
Something sad flickered across his eyes—gone as quickly as it appeared.
Damien reached Ace first.
"Where's my brother?" he asked.
"Damien—goodness," Ace exclaimed, pulling him into a tight hug. "I was starting to think something else happened to you."
"I wondered when you'd return," Victor added casually.
Damien pushed Ace away. "Where is Ramien?"
"He's with Reinna, on the other side of the ground," Ace replied. "I think Alpha went looking for them too."
"Thanks."
Ace blinked, watching Damien already moving away. It was the first time Damien had said something like that—simple, sincere.
Damien had always avoided emotional words.
At the other side of the Assembly Ground—
Ramien stood apart from the crowd, marks from the battle still traced faintly across his skin. His eyes were an unfeeling blue, watching the survivors with distant detachment. Cold rolled off him in slow, shallow waves, frost forming and dissolving at his feet as if the air itself recoiled from his presence.
Beside him stood Reinna, composed and unwavering—like a queen beside her king.
Damien spotted them, relief flooding his chest. He took a step forward, then halted.
The way Ramien looked at him—measured, distant—made that relief falter.
"Ramien," Damien said, brows knitting together. "Are you okay? Your injuries didn't fully heal. Are you in pain?"
His eyes searched his brother as the questions spilled out, one after another.
"I'm fine," Ramien replied. "And I'm relieved you're safe as well."
The words were gentle. But his eyes and voice were not.
"Where have you been?" Ramien continued. "I was getting worried."
"I was recovering outside the academy," Damien answered carefully, choosing each word with intent.
"Our parents will arrive soon," Ramien said, turning his gaze away. "Compose yourself. I'll explain everything to them."
"Yes, big brother."
The words fell softly—but they struck hard.
Reinna stiffened. Alpha, who had just arrived and was about to call out, froze mid-step.
Big brother?
The realization hit them both at once.
Damien was the younger one.
And suddenly, everything made a little more sense.
Alpha watched in stunned silence as Damien instinctively fell a step behind Ramien. The sight unsettled him more than the battle ever had. It felt wrong—like the world had quietly rearranged itself when no one was looking.
Why now?
Then it clicked.
All this time, Xyldrak had been sealed. Ramien had restrained himself, he was careful, controlled—afraid of letting the dragon loose. And in that restraint, Damien had stepped forward, filling the space Ramien left behind. He had spoken first, acted first, stood tall.
He had played the older brother.
But now Xyldrak was free.
And Ramien no longer held himself back.
Damien couldn't pretend anymore.
You're scared.
The memory struck Alpha hard—Damien's dragon curled tightly around itself, withdrawn, not defiant, not fearless. Alpha noticed it was scared.
That was the real Damien.
He had always been afraid of Ramien.
Alpha remembered the look on Damien's face just before Xyldrak broke free—wide-eyed, frozen, as if he had already known what would happen once the seal shattered.
Ramien shifted.
Slowly, he turned his head—and locked onto Alpha.
Alpha's heart slammed against his ribs.
That look wasn't familiar. It wasn't the Ramien he knew from before the battle. There was something colder in it now. Something distant.
One second passed.
Then another.
Ramien looked away.
Alpha released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and took an unconscious step back.
There was no doubt anymore.
Something about Ramien had changed.
And whatever it was—it was dangerous.
Hours slipped by in uneasy stillness before the familiar beat of wings returned. The Gryphon who had guided Damien and Derian earlier descended once more, this time leading the parents into the ruined academy grounds.
They arrived carrying a storm of emotions.
Anxiety clung to them like a second skin.
Anger simmered beneath tight expressions.
Panic flickered in darting eyes.
Hope—fragile and desperate—refused to leave.
Professor Giga rose into the air, floating high enough that every student and every parent could see her. She looked smaller somehow, worn down, yet she forced herself to stand straight.
"I will call out the names of the surviving students," she announced. "When you hear a name, step forward and reunite with your family."
A heavy silence fell.
Parents held their breath. Some clasped hands together, others pressed palms to their mouths, as if afraid a single sound might break what little hope they had left. Every heartbeat felt too loud.
Professor Giga inhaled slowly.
When she began to speak again, her voice carried authority—but it trembled, just enough to betray the weight she bore.
Anders of the Heathen Pack.
A pause.
A cry of relief as a student ran forward into waiting arms.
Then another name.
And another.
With each call, the tension shifted—hope blooming for some, dread tightening its grip on others. Every silence between names felt longer than the last, stretching painfully, forcing everyone to confront the same fear:
What if the name never comes?
And as Professor Giga continued, the academy listened—
counting the living,
and realizing that Blackspire would never be the same again.