Chapter 7- Don’t Ask Why We’re Friends

The moss gave under his boots with a sound softer than breath.

Seren didn't move.

The voice had come from behind — close, but not aggressive. Not panicked.

Measured. Curious. Still.

"You breathe like someone preparing to run."

He remained still, back half-turned.

His fingers hovered near his side, not drawing — not yet.

Another pause.

Then:

"Why are you really here?"

He turned slowly.

A tall figure stood at the edge of the clearing. Cloaked, but not armored. Their face partially shadowed by a hood — only the glint of pale gold eyes visible beneath it.

No visible weapons. No sigils. Just… present.

Seren's eyes narrowed.

"You're not one of the dig crew."

The figure tilted their head slightly.

"Neither are you."

He didn't answer.

The moonlight slid between the trees now, catching more of her frame — lean, long-limbed. Her cloak shifted, revealing subtle ridges of armor laced into the inner lining. Lightweight. Meant for movement.

She stepped forward once, slowly, non-threatening.

"You're a student."

It wasn't a question. Just a statement. Observation.

Seren's voice was cold, but calm.

"What gave it away?"

She didn't hesitate.

"Boots still have Academy chalk dust in the tread. Your belt's regulation-stitched, and that charm on your right side?"

"Only issued to Tiered students. I've seen enough."

A flicker of dry amusement ghosted across her lips. Barely.

He frowned slightly, studying her closer.

She looked… young. Maybe his age. Maybe older. It was hard to tell

Their eyes locked for a beat too long.

Then she spoke again — quieter.

"If you're smart… you'll forget what you saw here."

He didn't blink.

"And if I don't?"

"Then something else will make you forget."

A branch cracked high in the trees — an animal passing, or something else. Neither moved.

Then, without warning, she turned and began walking — not rushed, not fearful. Just gone, fading into the mist like she'd never been there at all.

"Wait."

She paused mid-step. Glanced back over her shoulder.

"Are you with the Concord? Or the Hall?"

"If I was with either, we wouldn't be talking right now."

The mist swallowed her before he could reply.

Just like that — gone.

Seren stood alone in the dark, the quiet pressing back in. The trees creaked faintly in the distance. A bird shrieked once and went silent again.

He didn't move for a long moment.

Then he exhaled, sharp.

"Tch…"

His hand clenched the edge of his cloak as he muttered under his breath, irritated.

"Who the hell just walks in, says nothing, and walks out like that?"

"Not even a name. Not even a hint."

He paced once, just a few steps.

Then stopped.

"…She was stronger."

He hated admitting it. Even to himself. But it hung in the air like the cold.

He looked down at his boots — still wet from the moss. The chalk dust on them was nearly gone now. His hand twitched once, like wanting to hit something. Then stilled.

Seren slipped back past the outer wards, boots silent over the gravel path. His cloak was damp. His shoulders tight. The moon still clung to the sky, but the edge of dawn was beginning to bleed in pale streaks behind the mountains.

He was almost at the Academy gates when—

"Seren! Oi! Moon-boy!"

Seren didn't look up.

"Don't."

From the side trail came Milo Rhask, arms full of something — looked like snacks, or maybe stolen supplies. His coat was half buttoned, hair windblown, a leaf stuck in it like a badge of honor.

"Oh good, you're still alive. I was starting to worry I'd have to deliver a tragic monologue at your funeral."

"Milo," Seren said flatly, "I will set your face on fire."

"You say that every time."

Milo tossed a nut bar at him. Seren didn't catch it.

"Seriously though—what's with the 'I just saw a ghost and it owes me money' face?"

"Not now."

"Ooh. Cryptic. Someone die?"

"Not yet. You're close."

"That's the spirit!" Milo beamed, utterly unfazed.

He fell into step beside Seren, walking backward just to be annoying.

"So, how was your secret solo sulking adventure in the cursed woods of no return?"

"None of your business."

"Which means something happened."

Seren exhaled through his nose, sharp.

"If I stab you once, do you shut up for ten minutes or twenty?"

"Depends. Is it above or below the ribs?"

"Below."

"Then fifteen. I'll even count politely."

Seren gave him a slow glare.

Milo just grinned wider, somehow managing to bite into his food and talk at the same time.

"C'mon. Something's bothering you. You're being extra Seren-y."

"You made that word up."

"Yup. Means 'moody, stabby, smells like smoke.' Very niche."

Seren didn't reply. He just walked faster.

Milo trotted to keep up, humming something off-key and cheerful.

"You know, one day you're gonna miss me when I'm dead."

"If I'm lucky, that day's tomorrow."

Seren kept walking, fast and silent, Milo's footsteps pattering behind like an overexcited stray dog.

He didn't speak again. Not yet. Too much noise still rattled in his head — the girl in the woods, the dig site, the silence where guards should've been.

And Milo just kept humming.

A beat passed.

Then Seren muttered under his breath, low enough it might've been to himself… or not.

"If you're wondering who that is…"

He didn't look back.

"That's Milo Rhask."

A pause. A sigh.

"He's… hard to explain."

Another pause. Then:

"Loud. Too curious. Smiles too much. Smells like he wrestles wolves for fun."

"Also somehow stronger than most instructors I've seen."

He shook his head once.

"Don't ask how we're friends. I'm still trying to figure that out."

Behind him, Milo tripped on a root and made a dramatic sound like he was dying.

"Ow! Seren! I think the earth just tried to assassinate me!"

"Good," Seren muttered. "It has the right idea."

Milo finally caught up beside him again, still brushing dirt off his coat like it owed him something.

"So," he said, biting into the second snack bar, "you gonna pretend everything's fine until it explodes, or are you gonna tell me what's crawling under your skin?"

Seren didn't answer.

"Right. Option one."

The gates of the Academy loomed ahead, still quiet in the gray just-before-dawn.

Milo tilted his head, side-glancing him.

"You do know the tournament starts tomorrow, right?"

Seren stopped walking.

That word landed heavier than it should've.

"I haven't forgotten."

"Most people would be freaking out right now."

"I'm not most people."

"Nope," Milo grinned, stretching, his beast-marked hands cracking faint sparks of energy.

"You're Seren Vael. Mister Silent, Mister Stare-Too-Much, Mister If-I-Don't-Win-I-Burn-It-Down."

Seren kept walking, but the corner of his mouth twitched — maybe a smile. Maybe just tired.

"You're not wrong."

They passed through the archway together, boots echoing against the stone.

Above them, high on the wall, the banners were already shifting — embroidered symbols for the Seven Factions, one by one, flickering into place.

Velrenmar was waking up.

And the whole damn world would be watching.