Chapter 207: Sun’s soliloquy
The doors boomed shut behind him, the echo chasing him down the corridor as he strode away, his cloak snapping at his heels.
The academy dormitories felt colder when he returned that night. Their stone walls seemed less like housing for scholars and more like the gray ribs of a beast closing around him. Glowstones lined the hallways, each one casting a pale, steady light that hummed faintly. It was a sound most ignored, but tonight it gnawed at Sun, grating on his frayed nerves.
He pushed into the common room of his assigned dormitory, his mood so dark that the air itself seemed to tense.
Two of his closest companions were there. Fin lounged in a chair, lean and sharp-eyed, idly tapping a card against the table where a half-finished game lay abandoned. Across from him, Garun—broader, heavier, his presence steady as stone—sat with his arms folded, a half-empty mug of cider beside him.
Both of them looked up the moment Sun entered.
"You’re back late," Fin said carefully. His thin brows knit together, his usual smirk absent. "Rough night?"
Garun’s gaze was heavier, more deliberate, scanning Sun with the slow patience of someone measuring cracks in stone. "You’ve been on edge for days now," he rumbled. "What happened this time?"
Sun waved them off with a sharp motion, striding past the table to the wide window overlooking the courtyard. He planted both hands on the sill and stared outward, the pale wash of moonlight painting the stones silver. The courtyard below was empty, silent save for the rustle of leaves in the night breeze.
His knuckles whitened against the stone.
"Nothing," he muttered.
Fin tilted his head, unimpressed. "Nothing looks an awful lot like you’re ready to strangle someone."
"Maybe he is," Garun said, his voice even but weighted. "Maybe that someone is Jae."
The name landed like a spark in dry tinder. Sun’s jaw tightened, his shoulders drawing taut. He didn’t turn, didn’t answer, but silence was answer enough.
The quiet stretched until it grew uncomfortable. The glowstones hummed softly. A draft rattled faintly at the window.
Finally, Fin broke the stillness. He leaned forward, resting his chin on his palm, his eyes sharp with curiosity. "You can’t keep sulking like this, you know. People are starting to notice."
"Let them notice," Sun snapped. He spun around suddenly, his eyes blazing, his voice raw with more than just anger. Behind the fury was exhaustion, the hollow weight of someone stretched too thin. "What would you have me say? That I’m fine? That I don’t see him rising while I stand here in the shadows?"
Fin’s mouth pressed into a line. For once, he had no flippant remark.
Garun shifted, his brows furrowed. "We’re your allies. Not your enemies. If something’s happening, you need to trust us."
But Sun’s gaze shuttered. The fire in his eyes dulled into something colder, more guarded. His fists loosened slightly, but only because his resolve had tightened.
"I said it’s nothing," he repeated flatly.
And with that, he turned his back to them and strode toward his room, brushing past their chairs without another glance. The door slammed shut behind him with a crack that rattled the frame, leaving Fin and Garun staring at the wood in his wake.
For a moment, silence reigned again.
Then Fin exhaled slowly, leaning back in his chair with a low whistle. "He’s going to break something, or someone, if this keeps up."
Garun only shook his head, heavy shoulders rising and falling with the weight of a sigh. "Or himself."
Inside his room, Sun sank onto the edge of his bed, elbows braced on his knees, fists pressed so tightly against them his arms trembled. His breath came ragged, his teeth clenched until his jaw ached. The chamber was silent, but his thoughts screamed loud enough to fill it.
Jae. Always Jae.
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw him. Standing tall on the sparring grounds, Dragonfire Blade in hand, crimson eyes burning with strength that should never have been his. Sun saw the crowd cheering, saw his father’s gaze drifting toward the boy, saw the whispers ripple like wildfire through every corner of the academy.
He felt himself shrinking in their shadow.
"Nothing special," he whispered bitterly, his voice raw and low. "You’re nothing. I’ll prove it."
The words disappeared into the silence of the room, swallowed whole by the stone walls. But the vow did not fade. It pressed tighter in his chest, heavy and hot, a storm caged within him. Hatred and desperation tangled into something sharper, something dangerous, waiting only for a spark to ignite.
And Sun, crown prince of the realm, sat alone in the quiet, his scowl carved deeper than ever, his heart thundering with a promise the world would one day hear.
xxx
The announcement came early the next morning, carried first by whispers through the dormitory halls, then by the ringing of the courtyard bell that summoned the entire class. Students stumbled from their rooms half-awake, tugging on boots and fastening belts as they went. By the time they arrived at the training grounds, the courtyard hummed with an energy different from the usual start of day
Banners hung from the poles lining the walls, their cloth stirring lazily in the cool morning breeze. The sun was only just climbing into the sky, its pale light pooling across the stone tiles. Students gathered in loose groups, some yawning, others murmuring speculation. This was no ordinary lecture. Everyone felt it, the sharp edge in the air, the restless tension beneath the calm.
Mrs. Lira stood at the front, poised as ever. Her cloak was a long sweep of dark green trimmed with silver thread, and the weight of her presence was enough to quiet the last of the chatter. She didn’t need to raise her voice; her calm authority alone carried across the courtyard.
"Today," she began, "you will be divided into squads and sent into the northern forest."