Hidden Truth

"The parchment?" Luna whispered, her voice barely audible. She leaned closer, seeking confirmation. "Is that the one you mentioned earlier?"

"Probably," Revan replied just as quietly, eyes fixed on Lord Cervarin—on the chains, the broken posture, the bruises.

And still… that smirk.

As Revan watched, a cold realization settled in his chest: the distance between himself and true strength was far greater than he'd allowed himself to believe. There was still a long road ahead.

"Where's Richard?" Luna asked, scanning the scene. Her brows knit slightly in concern.

Revan's gaze flicked around the perimeter of the main tent, searching for the familiar outline of the prince.

"I don't see him," he murmured. "He might be inside the tent… or back at ours."

Before Luna could respond, Volcaz's voice cut through the night like a blade.

"Shall I let my young general question you again?" the king asked, his tone cold and deliberate.

Lord Cervarin raised his head, lips cracked, yet his voice held no fear. "I already told him," he said, the edges of a smile curling through the blood on his face. "I don't know where it is."

Lord Cervarin lifted his bruised face, chains rattling as he adjusted his posture. The silver cuffs bit into his skin, blood dried at the corners of his mouth. Still, he smiled—sharp and mocking.

"I already told him," he said with a rasp. "The parchment is gone."

King Volcaz didn't flinch. His expression remained unreadable, carved from stone and shadow. The flames of nearby torches danced across his crimson mantle, casting flickers of molten light across his face.

He stepped forward once, slowly.

"I've seen men break in silence," he said, voice smooth, level—almost gentle. "And I've seen liars choke on their last breath still clinging to pride. You should pray you are the former."

Cervarin chuckled, low and bitter. "You think fear will make me remember something I don't know?"

Behind him, the soldiers tensed.

Volcaz didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to. His authority weighed heavier than any shout.

"So you had the parchment," King Volcaz said, voice laced with sarcasm, "but the moment my soldiers arrived, it vanished?"

Cervarin gave a breathless chuckle, his bloodied face lifting with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "There was… a guest in the dungeon. We kept him as insurance in case things went south."

Volcaz's gaze sharpened. "And who was this guest?"

"High Prince Oliver Solfyr," Cervarin said with a grin that bordered on defiance.

A flash of fury rippled across Volcaz's expression. "Solfyr?" he hissed, turning to Dorian. "Did you see him?"

"No, Your Grace," Dorian replied quickly. "But there were signs—scorch marks, a scorched chamber beyond a glass wall. It looked like it had been devoured by flame."

Volcaz exhaled through his nose, his voice cooling into iron. "What is an exiled rebel prince doing in your fortress?"

Cervarin shrugged, chains clinking softly. "I told you. He was my insurance."

"Or your scapegoat," Dorian added grimly. "In case your scheme unraveled."

Volcaz's eyes narrowed. "And who funded your research? The parchment isn't common knowledge."

Cervarin chuckled again, hoarse and rasping. "Not many know about the Scripture of the Presence… but I think you already have a guess."

Volcaz said nothing. His silence was colder than any threat.

He turned to the soldiers behind Cervarin. "Secure him. I'll deal with him myself later."

Two armored guards stepped forward and grabbed Cervarin by the arms, dragging him roughly across the camp. His chains clanked and rattled with each step as they pulled him toward a wooden hut pressed against the inner palisade wall.

"Rest. I'll inspect the ruins in the morning," Volcaz said to Dorian, then without another word, turned and entered his tent. The heavy flaps fell shut behind him.

Around them, soldiers began to disperse in silence.

Behind the crates at the far edge of the camp, Revan and Luna stayed crouched, breath low.

"He's an exiled rebel?" Luna whispered.

Revan nodded slowly, his brows furrowed. "I just found out too. No wonder Aunt Vanya hates him."

"What do we do?" Luna asked.

Revan glanced toward the wooden hut where Cervarin had been dragged. His hand gently tightened around hers.

"For now… we rest," he said. "We'll need our strength."

He stood, helping Luna to her feet, and together they walked back toward their tent. The torches flickered in the growing darkness as they passed.

Waiting for them were the two red-and-black-clad maids. Without a word, they guided Revan and Luna to the side chambers attached to the main tent. Hot water and clean clothes awaited.

Just as they were about to leave, one of the maids turned back toward them.

"I bring a message from the king," she said softly. "Someone will arrive tomorrow to escort you both home."

The other maid gave a slight bow. "If you need anything during the night, the bell is yours."

She gestured to the silver bell resting on the table near the entrance.

Then, the flaps closed, and silence settled once more over the camp.

Revan and Luna both come out of the side chambers in their pajamas. They make their way into the bed and tuck in.

Then, the flaps fell closed, and silence blanketed the camp once more.

Revan and Luna emerged from their side tents dressed in soft sleeping robes. The light had dimmed to a warm flicker from the lanterns above, casting golden pools across the canvas walls.

They crossed the main tent in quiet steps, each moving to their beds.

Luna slipped under the covers, hugging the edge of the blanket. Revan sat for a moment, then lay back with a soft sigh.

"I know it's only been a few days," Luna said, her voice low, "but it feels like the longest day ever."

"Yeah…" Revan replied, glancing up at the ceiling. "Being unconscious kind of messes with our sense of time."

Luna turned slightly toward him. "Do you think something like this will happen again?"

Revan paused before answering. "I don't know. But they've caught the one behind it all… so you should be safe now."

Luna pulled the blanket up to her chin. "I'm just scared they'll come for me again… and I won't be able to do anything."

Revan turned slightly in his bed, his voice calm but firm. "My father once told me—it's okay to be afraid. Just don't let it drown you. Train, Luna. You've got power. I can already see how strong you could become."

Luna smiled faintly. "I've got a good teacher."

Revan grinned into the dim lantern light. "Heh… damn right you do."

There was a pause—soft, comfortable—until Luna spoke again, voice quieter this time, almost shy.

"Will you come visit me… sometimes?"

She tucked deeper into her blanket, trying to hide the blush blooming on her cheeks.

Revan blinked, caught off guard. "I hope so," he said honestly. "I mean, all of this was terrifying but… also kinda fun?"

Luna let out a small laugh, barely above a whisper.

Then, after a beat of silence, she asked, "Are you going to attend the Academy?"

"I think so… when I turn thirteen," Revan said. "What about you?"

"Yep. Looks like we don't really have a choice, huh?" She offered a half-smile. "Are you nervous?"

Revan glanced sideways. "Because I'm not an Etherean?"

Luna sat up straight, eyes wide. "No! I didn't mean that!" she said quickly, panic flashing across her face. "I never—"

Revan burst into laughter, a rich and honest sound that echoed gently through the tent.

"I'm kidding," he said, grinning at her.

Luna blinked, then let out a breath—and tossed her pillow at him.

He caught it midair, still laughing, and tossed it right back.

For a brief moment, the world felt light again.

She looked away, flustered. "You're the worst."

Revan smiled as he pulled the blanket higher around his shoulders. "Goodnight, Luna."

Luna lay back down slowly, facing his direction though her eyes stayed on the ceiling.

"…Goodnight, Revan."