Flori quietly sent a thought to Ian.
Moments later, members of law enforcement arrived. They assessed the damage, took statements, collected evidence, and began cleaning up the remains of the battle. Vulas' charred body and Eryndor's dead body was taken away.
Enira arrived mid-process. She stood frozen as she saw the wreckage, Eryndor's body, the shattered surroundings, the strange energy still lingering in the air. Her expression was unreadable, but her fingers trembled slightly. Her 'pretend husband' had just died in front of all of them, and she wasn't sure how she was supposed to feel. Conflicted. Angry. Sad. Or just empty.
Once the cleanup was complete and the everyone left, the facility fell quiet. Only Ian, Myrra, and Enira remained. Myrra silently wrapped her arms around Enira, offering quiet comfort. Enira didn't resist.
Ian hesitated before speaking again, as if weighing his words carefully. "There's something I didn't tell you earlier."
Both Myrra and Enira looked up at him, waiting for him to continue.
"Eryndor's consciousness... it's still intact," Ian said, his voice steady but with a trace of uncertainty. "We'll need to find a new body for him."
Enira's breath caught in her throat. Myrra's eyes widened in shock.
"He's not...?" Myrra asked, her voice faltering slightly.
Ian nodded. "Technically yes, but I am not sure how to bring him back, but there is a possibility. So we need to find a body. Something recent… intact. And even after that there are other things to consider."
He'd known for a while. Flori had already told him, just in time, it had pulled Eryndor's consciousness out before the body could be fully corrupted. He was safe… for now.
But they will need a compatible host. The transfer is not simple. If the brain structure does not align properly with the consciousness, we risk damage. Flori lacks the full capability to design new neural pathways, if Eryndor's neural pathways were still intact then they could just replicate it, this is possible with current technology, but creating compatible neural pathways without any reference is very challenging.
Ian exhaled. "I'll have to research it. Carefully."
At an estate in the wealthier part of Ial Themar, Councilman Herrie stood in front of a wide window overlooking his garden. His reflection in the glass barely moved, only his fingers, twitching with restrained anger.
A man stood beside him, tense and sweating. "The reports just came in," he said cautiously. "Young Lord Vulas.... He's dead."
Councilman Herrie didn't respond. His gaze stayed fixed on the glass.
"The official account says he attacked first. The woman, Yelthara, killed him in what they're calling self-defense."
A long silence.
"What about the others?" Herrie asked, his voice unreadable.
"Enira's husband, Eryndor, was another casualty. She hasn't responded to any of our messages since. There were also two students from Rulmose present, but they..."
"I'm not asking about that," Herrie interrupted sharply.
The man hesitated, swallowing hard. "We… think Lord Kolvar might have been involved."
Then came a low, audible exhale from Councilman Herrie, as if all the tension he held finally needed space. A moment later, a burst of raw energy ripped through the room. The windows shattered in a single wave. Furniture cracked and splintered. Glass exploded from the shelves. The man was thrown to the ground, a cut opening just above his brow.
"You couldn't help yourself, could you..." Herrie muttered under his breath, eyes burning. "Trying to get me involved in this way...."
"Find Kolvar," Herrie said, calm now, but cold as steel. "And track the two students from Rulmose. Names. Families. Everything."
The man gave a shaky nod and rushed out.
Now alone, Herrie finally looked down. His hands were trembling.
"I should have disciplined you more. Stripped that arrogance before it rooted."
His voice dropped to almost a whisper.
"As your father… the only thing I can give you now is a proper ending."
He looked once more toward the shattered glass, toward the garden beyond.
"If only you'd been more sensible like your brother."
Ian, Myrra were now at Enira's home. Considering the state of the private facility, this was a better place to stay. The atmosphere was quieter, though still heavy.
Ian sat on the couch, Flori hovering near him, pulsing softly with a dim blue glow.
"He's not awake yet," Ian murmured, watching it. "Still dormant inside you?"
Flori responded with a quiet hum in Ian's mind."The consciousness is stable, but inactive. Let it rest. The extraction was clean, but I can't confirm functional integrity until he wakes."
Ian leaned back. "Well… at least he's safe. For now."
Rhys, Reina, and Cailen soon arrived, bringing food, supplies, and presence more than anything. Ian and Rhys spoke quietly in one of the back rooms regarding the events that had transpired.
The next morning, most of them returned to their routines. Classes resumed, responsibilities called. Life didn't wait. But Myrra stayed behind with Enira, refusing to leave her alone so soon.
Ian, meanwhile, spent the morning in the research facility, already resuming work on the prototype. Later, he made his way to Yeonelyth's usual place.
Yeonelyth sat where she always did, half-lit by the soft light, a worn book resting open on her lap.
Thank you," he said, giving her a small bow.
She looked up from her book. "You're looking awfully formal. What happened now?"
Ian explained the events that had transpired, the attack, the aftermath. His voice was more open than usual. He was starting to trust her, slowly but clearly.
She listened without interruption, then waved her hand slightly. "It's fine. Don't worry about it."
She paused, then added, "As for your dead friend... try looking into Axomorphs. They have the ability to replicate and regenerate neural pathways. It could be what you need."
Ian nodded. "Thanks," he said again, and left. Back to his work. Back to the plans for what came next.
In the days that followed, nothing unusual happened. No more attacks. No sudden surges of energy. Just life, trying to resume its usual pace.
A quiet funeral was held for Eryndor. He wasn't truly dead, but his body was gone, unusable, and the truth wasn't made public. Only a few knew what had really happened. The ceremony was short and subdued, more a formality than a farewell.
Myrra stayed with Enira for a few more days. There weren't many words exchanged, but her presence was enough. When she was finally convinced by Enira that she would be alright, she too returned to her schedule.
It was a lie, of course.
That afternoon, Enira was alone at home. The silence pressed in around her. The house felt colder now, emptier. Though her relationship with Eryndor had never been ideal, they had still depended on each other in small ways. His absence hadn't hit her fully when others were around, but now, standing alone in the quiet, it settled like a weight in her chest. She stared at the empty furniture, the half-used things he'd left behind, and felt it, the hollow echo of being alone in the world.
A wave of panic overtook her. She couldn't breathe. Her hands trembled. Tears came without permission, hot, aching sobs that wouldn't stop.
And somewhere far away, Ian felt it. Ian and Enira were connected through not only Flori's control mark but also a subtle connection after he utilised his mindbloom to awaken her. Through them he felt her emotions bleeding.
Ian quickly made his way towards her residence, Enira didn't hear him arrive. The front door opened quietly, and then he was there, in the living room, seeing her on the floor, curled up, arms wrapped around herself, her face soaked in tears.
She looked up, startled, but didn't speak. She couldn't. The moment she met his eyes, she lost it again.
She stumbled toward him, barely able to stand, and fell into his arms.
Ian caught her. He didn't say anything at first. Just held her, steady and unmoving. He could feel her heartbeat against his chest, rapid and chaotic, her fingers clinging to his shirt like she might fall apart if she let go.
"I'm here," he whispered eventually. "It's alright. I'm here."
He waited, letting her sob until it faded into quiet hiccups, then into stillness. Her grip on him loosened, but she didn't let go completely.
"I know what this feels like," Ian said softly, when she finally looked up. "Not this exact pain, but... the emptiness. I remember it. When I first came here. It doesn't go away on its own."
Enira was silent, her expression blank, exhausted.
"You shouldn't be here alone," Ian said.
She wiped at her eyes. "I'm fine," she said hoarsely.
Ian gave her a long, steady look. "You're not."
A pause.
"Why don't you live with us?," he said.
Enira frowned. "Ian…"
"I don't mean inside the Academy," he added quickly, sensing her hesitation. "The private facility in Ial Themar is being repaired right now. I'm putting a lot into it, making it more livable. Less like a lab, more like an actual home. I'm in the city almost every day these days, and Myrra would like it too."
Infact it was Myrra who suggested it. She'd hoped Enira would stay with them in the apartment for a while. But because of Academy policy, non-related personnel weren't allowed to stay long-term inside Rulmose.
It was technically possible, in rare exceptions, but Ian was still a student, a newcomer. He didn't have the influence to make that happen, not yet. So the next best thing was to shift things partially. Keep the facility in Ial Themar operational, livable. They wouldn't have to move out of Rulmose entirely, just spend part of their time there.
"I don't want to be a burden," Enira murmured.
"You won't be." His voice was firm, but calm. "I'm there every day anyway. And Myrra too will be there. We're not strangers to you anymore, Enira."
He hesitated, then softened his tone further.
"You don't have commit to it fully. Stay with us for as long as you want. And if you feel better later… then consider it. I can even leave the entire living space to you, keep the lab section separate. You'll have your own space, no pressure."
She didn't reply immediately.
Ian gave her time, simply watching her face. She was still hesitant, but something in her expression had shifted. Less resistance. More thought.
"Talk to Myrra," he added. "See what she says."
And she did.
Between Myrra's quiet encouragement and Ian's consistent, gentle insistence, Enira eventually agreed.
A few days later, once the renovations were finished, she moved into her new home. Ian and Myrra helped her pack the essentials, making sure nothing important was left behind. The new living space was warm and thoughtfully arranged. Myrra had picked out most of the furniture herself, soft tones, comfortable textures, everything shaped to match Enira's taste as best as she could.
Ian had spent a considerable amount of money on the facility's upgrades, especially the security systems. Quietly, he'd made sure it was safe. He didn't want anything like that night to ever happen again.
Myrra tugged Enira around the place, showing her where everything was. The kitchen. The common room. A little garden space out back. Meanwhile, Flori was sprawled under a patch of filtered sunlight near the window, looking completely content, basking as if it were photosynthesizing.
Myrra grinned and spread her arms wide as they stepped into the last room. "Tan-ta-da! And here's your room. What do you think?"
Enira stepped inside slowly. The bed was made, the shelves already arranged with a few familiar books. The curtains, the color palette, even the faint scent in the air, it all felt… like her. Or at least, like a place meant for her.
"It's nice," she said softly.
Then, without warning, she turned and hugged Myrra tightly.
"Thank you," she whispered. Her voice trembled. She never would've imagined a day like this. That someone would go so far just to make sure she was okay. It made her feel undeserving. Guilty, even, because she remembered why she had approached Myrra in the first place. She had used her. Tried to manipulate her. Hurt her, even. And yet here Myrra was, offering her kindness without hesitation.
It was a quiet kind of transformation. Enira didn't speak about it, but something in her shifted. The last thread of connection she had to the Quiet Testament, that cold, distant purpose, finally unraveled. Now, there was only this: a place to heal, people who cared, and a life she could begin again.
Myrra only smiled and said gently, "Don't worry about it."