"..."

Heron stood atop the town wall, his gnarled hands resting on the cold stone. His eyes, clouded with age and memory, followed the carriage as it grew smaller and smaller on the horizon, a dark speck against the vast white expanse. The wind tugged at his robes, but he remained as still as a statue, his expression unreadable.

It was impossible to tell what he was thinking. Was it regret? Relief? Or simply the weary acknowledgment of another parting?

Just then, a figure stepped soundlessly beside him. It was the supervisor sent by the royalty, his face etched with a respect that bordered on reverence.

"You did the right thing, Sir Hero," the man muttered, his voice low and earnest.

Heron didn’t glance his way. He didn’t so much as twitch. He simply continued to stare at the vanishing carriage, his silence a wall in itself.

Seemingly understanding, the man gave a slight bow of his head. "Then I’ll take my leave. Take care." With that, he retreated, his presence fading until Heron was alone once more with the wind and his thoughts.

The silence stretched, broken only by the sigh of the breeze. Finally, Heron’s lips, chapped and thin, moved.

"Right thing, huh..." he murmured, the words barely a whisper, snatched away by the wind.

His gaze remained locked on the empty road where the carriage had been. A long-dormant spark seemed to flicker deep within his aged eyes.

"Perhaps..." he breathed out, a new, firm resolve settling into the lines of his face. "It’s not too late to do it."

Then, as if drawn by an invisible string, his gaze shifted. It moved away from the empty road, past the town’s rebuilt fences, and fixed upon the distant, mist-shrouded expanse of the Hollowlands. The look in his eyes was no longer one of weary remembrance, but of sharp, calculating focus. It was the look of a soldier assessing a battlefield.

He stood there for a moment, staring into the heart of the land that had taken so much.

"..."

Without another word, he turned. He slowly descended the stone steps of the wall and began the familiar walk back to the infirmary.

’I really hope it’s not too late...’

______ ___ _

The Eclipse Keep. The Eclipse Castle.

Lumin and the others sat across from Baron Nusayel and Baroness Selvienne, having arrived at the Keep just an hour before. This meeting was a final courtesy before their respective departures. While Lumin would also be leaving the Keep, his own departure was still a few days away; he had a few loose ends to tie up. However, he would still escort the three to the Derier as promised.

"You are all welcome to visit again, whenever your paths may lead you here," Baroness Selvienne said, her smile genuine as she looked at each of them in turn. Beside her, Baron Nusayel gave a firm, confirming nod.

Cassandra offered a graceful nod in return. "I hope I will get that chance."

With the formal farewells complete, Lumin and Cassandra excused themselves, leaving the Princess and Vance alone with the Baron and Baroness. It was clear that a more private discussion, likely regarding the details of the trial and its aftermath, was about to take place.

This suited Cassandra just fine. She had wanted a moment alone with Aman anyway.

As they walked side by side through the castle’s inner courtyard, the sounds of the castle fading behind them, she reached out to him mentally, her tone careful.

Aman replied, his mental voice calm with a faint smile touching his lips.

’...Aman.’ Cassandra glanced at him.

He was smiling, but she could see the faint tension around his eyes, the subtle weight that settled on his shoulders.

She knew all too well the pain he held beneath that carefully constructed calm. To be so close, yet forced to remain a ghost to protect those you love... it was a unique kind of torment. Her heart ached for him, a sharp, sympathetic pang.

Yet, she also knew it was the only logical choice. His enemies were not just powerful but also incredibly dangerous and influential. A single misstep, a moment of carelessness, and the danger wouldn’t just fall on him, but on everyone around him. This shadow-play was a necessity, a burden he had to bear alone for now.

<...I hope one day, soon, you will be able to tell them you are alive. That you are safe, yourself,> she said, the thought carrying a depth of genuine feeling that went beyond mere politeness.

He finally glanced at her, and this time, his smile was more sincere, softening the edges of his eyes.

For a fleeting moment, Cassandra’s vision seemed to shift. The lines of his current face blurred, and she caught a glimpse of the man beneath the disguise — the true Aman, with his usual indifferent but clear gaze and a quiet strength that needed no mask. Her heart gave a single, hard thump against her ribs, a sudden, traitorous rhythm.

She offered a slight nod, her expression perfectly composed, betraying none of the momentary flutter. she continued, smoothly steering the conversation onto more practical ground.

Aman chuckled softly.

Cassandra teased, a playful glint in her eye. Then, as if realizing her words could be misconstrued, she added quickly,

he fired back without missing a beat, a grin tugging at his lips.

she scoffed, but her eyes were laughing.

She then began counting the benefits on her mind. She gave him a ’You know what I am saying, right?’ look.

Aman listened, a thoughtful expression on his face as he mentally tallied the offer. he admitted, a note of genuine consideration in his tone.

Cassandra said with a sigh, though her eyes still sparkled with amusement.

he asked, a playful smirk returning to his lips.

she retorted smoothly. She placed a hand over her heart in a mock-tragic gesture.

Aman replied, his tone dry.

And before she could fire back another retort, he quickly shifted the topic.

she said, the name slipping out easily.