Chapter 78: Still Here

Chapter 78: Still Here

Maelin was already at the corner table when he came into the refectory, with two bowls of noodle soup in front of her and the look of someone who had decided to stop waiting politely.

"You’re late," Maelin said. "I started on yours."

"You did not," Silas said.

"I thought about it." She pushed the second bowl across. "It’s the chili one. You always pick the chili one and then complain about it."

He sat down. The refectory was half empty in the early afternoon. Two tables over, students were arguing about the suspended tournament brackets and what would happen to the results already decided.

Maelin ate as if she hadn’t eaten in a day, which she said was true. "I couldn’t last night," she said through a mouthful. "I got back and sat on my bed and just stayed there. Then I woke up and I was starving."

She was also picking the scallions out of her soup one by one and lining them up along the rim of the bowl, the way she always did.

"You could just ask them to leave those off," Silas said.

"I asked the cook once. He said they were good for me," Maelin said. She flicked another scallion onto the rim. "They taste like wet grass."

Her elbow had a fresh dressing, and she kept scratching at its edge until she noticed and stopped.

"Does it hurt?" Silas asked.

"It itches. Which is worse." She looked at him over her spoon. "You look annoyingly healthy."

"I feel annoyingly healthy," Silas said.

"I saw her give you that seed," Maelin said. She had already asked what it was in the sanctuary. This time she left the question alone. "I’m glad. You’ve looked like a half-dead plant since I met you."

"Thank you, Maelin."

"You’re welcome." She went back to her soup, then put her spoon down. "Can I say something stupid?"

"Go on," Silas said.

She turned her bowl on the table. "In that courtyard, I thought I’d made the worst mistake of my life. I’d told Voss I could reach trapped people, but then those things were dropping off the galleries and I couldn’t even see everyone." She paused. "Then I got Caelan off the fountain. And when we reached the holding room, I knew how to get in. I could actually help." She looked up. "I want to do more of that. Preferably somewhere I can leave when I want."

Silas didn’t answer right away.

He was thinking about a gray portrait. A short funeral scene in a game he’d played in another life, which he had skipped the second time because it was slow. In that version of yesterday, this girl had gone into the ruins after the captives and never come back out. And here she was, eating chili noodles across from him and talking about her future like she had all the time in the world to choose it.

She had no idea. He intended to keep it that way.

"That’s not stupid," Silas said. "You were good in there. You were better than good."

Maelin looked down at her bowl, smiling a little. "I needed to hear that. Even if you still owe me for the stool."

"I returned the stool," Silas said.

"You returned it late." But she was smiling.

They finished eating while Maelin complained about a lecture she would have to attend that afternoon. Silas lost a dumpling when he looked toward the clock; by the time he turned back, she was chewing it and pretending to listen.

He pushed the plate between them.

He found Alden afterward in the east practice yard, which was the last place Alden should have been.

Alden’s calf was bandaged under his rolled trouser leg. He was doing footwork drills at half speed, slow, careful, his longsword held out in front of him at an angle that suggested he was imagining something much bigger on the other end. A medic’s note was pinned to his bag on the bench. Silas glanced at it. Light work only. No sparring for three days.

"That’s not light work," Silas said.

"It’s half speed." Alden finished the sequence and lowered his blade. "That’s light."

Alden checked the placement of his leading foot, frowned, and tried it again without taking the step. Only then did he look at Silas.

"Are you all right?" Silas asked.

"I’m fine. All of us came out. We got five people home. That’s the whole point." Alden said it firmly, like someone who had been saying it to himself all night. Then he sat down heavily on the bench. "I carried Bellamy up a ramp. I helped pull a grille. I hit one hunter twice in the courtyard and hurt it the second time."

"That all mattered," Silas said.

"I know it did." Alden rubbed his face. "But when the guardian came out, I couldn’t see how to get near it. I was still trying to work that out when Elyra killed it. I didn’t even take a swing."

"Nobody else got the chance either," Silas said.

"I’m not angry at her. She saved everyone." Alden’s jaw worked. "And I’m not upset about the seeds, before you ask. Well. I wanted one. Everybody wanted one. But Bellamy asked my name when the medics took him, and he said it twice so he wouldn’t forget it. I’d rather have that than a seed." He let out a breath. "Mostly."

Silas let that admission stand. He had been miserable over the seeds himself until Elyra walked over with hers.

Alden ran his thumb along the sword’s guard. "I keep practicing until a move feels right. Then something happens that I’ve never practiced for, and I’m late again. Second Attempt helps when I get another try. In there, I wasn’t sure I’d get one."

"So you want something harder?" Silas asked.

"Something different. Where I can mess up and find out why. Not just do this again." Alden lifted the sword an inch, then rested it across his knees.

Silas looked at him and felt something cold and familiar turn over in his chest.

He wanted to help Alden. He also wanted this boy to become strong enough that the next disaster didn’t leave him looking at his sword like that. Somewhere ahead, something was coming for this world that would make the Red Gate look like a puddle. In the game, Alden had been the one who stood up to it. A D-Rank Alden couldn’t. And if Alden couldn’t, then the people who’d have to try were people like Silas, and the people who’d die if they failed were people like Mara.

Silas would keep getting stronger for himself and Mara. But having to replace the hero as well?

Please, no. I barely managed one dungeon.

Another try. Somewhere Alden could fail without getting killed for it. Something about that brought back a different playthrough.

In a playthrough where Alden missed this dungeon, his second awakening had happened later, in an old training hall. Silas remembered an escort exercise with constructs: protecting fragile things while being attacked from every side, and failing over and over until something changed. ℯℯ𝘭.𝘤ℴ𝘮

Silas couldn’t remember the hall’s name. He couldn’t remember whether it had been a mandatory event or a side quest he’d stumbled into. He had no idea if it even existed in this version of the academy.

But he could find out.

"I might know something," Silas said slowly. "Let me check first. I don’t want to promise you anything until I know it’s real."

Alden looked up. "What kind of something?"

"A supervised exercise. I need to see if it’s still available," Silas said. "Give me a day."