(Noah's POV)
The air outside the Elemental Chamber felt different.
Thinner. Quieter.
I stood at the top of the spiral stairs, my fingers trailing lightly along the stone wall, half-expecting it to crumble beneath my touch.
The door behind me rumbled softly as it closed, sealing away the runes, the obelisks, and the sacred trial I'd endured for five endless days.
My legs trembled beneath me.
Each step felt like dragging chains.
My arms were still aching—covered in faint scabs, barely-closed cuts, and bruises that stretched from shoulder to wrist. My clothes were ruined—burned, bloodied, sticking to my skin like wet paper.
I couldn't even remember the last time I slept.
Or ate.
My body was surviving on pure will—and even that flame was starting to flicker.
No one can see me like this…
I moved slowly, keeping close to the hallway shadows as I made my way through the mansion.
I wasn't afraid of being scolded.
I wasn't hiding out of pride.
It was just—too much.
I didn't want anyone to see me like this.
Not bloodied. Not trembling. Not after surviving five days inside the Elemental Chamber, dancing on the edge between death and awakening.
So I moved like a ghost through the estate—head low, steps careful.
"Just get to the room. No one has to see this..."
I wasn't ready for kind eyes.
Not after everything I'd seen.
Not after touching something as vast and ancient as the truth of mana.
I just needed to breathe. To rest. To let the silence settle inside me.
"Just a few more steps to my room. Then I can—"
"Noah?"
I froze.
Scarlett's voice rang out from the hallway to my right.
I stood still. Didn't turn. Hoped—maybe—it was my mind playing tricks.
But then—
"Noah!?"
Another voice—Layla's. Closer. Sharper.
Crap.
I turned slowly, hoping my face didn't look as bad as it felt.
But the moment they saw me—
The world cracked.
"By the gods—what happened to you?!"
Scarlett sprinted across the floor, eyes wide with horror.
Layla was a heartbeat behind her. "Are you bleeding?! What the hell?!"
And from the far corridor—calm, composed, always silent—Lyra appeared.
She didn't say a word.
Just stopped in her tracks.
Her eyes scanned me like a machine.
And her hands clenched at her sides.
Ah…
So much for going unnoticed.
"I'm fine," I muttered. "Just a little tired. That's all—"
Layla grabbed my arm.
And flinched.
"This isn't 'tired,' you absolute moron," she hissed, pulling my sleeve up. "You're covered in cuts and dried blood—your veins are swollen, your skin's ice-cold—and are those mana burns?!"
Scarlett touched my face gently.
Then her fingers slid to my jaw, lifting it slightly. Her brows pulled together. "Dark circles… you haven't slept in days. Your eyes are sunken. Your mana is all over the place…"
"I didn't want to worry you," I said quietly.
"Too late," Lyra said.
Her voice was soft—but sharp. Like a blade dipped in silk.
She stepped forward, placing two fingers against my neck. Checking my pulse.
"I'm going to kill you."
"…That's not exactly comforting."
She gave me a look. One that could freeze oceans.
"Good."
Layla suddenly dragged me, ignoring my protest.
"Wha—wait, Layla, seriously—"
She grabbed my chin, forced me to sit on the nearest bench, and narrowed her amber eyes.
"We're taking you to your room. Now."
"No objections," Scarlett added. "If you can walk, good. If not, we'll drag you."
"…I can walk," I grumbled.
Not that it mattered. The next moment, Layla had looped her arm under mine, and Scarlett supported my other side.
Lyra walked behind us like a silent executioner.
In My Room
The moment the door clicked shut behind us, their expressions changed.
Gone was the panic.
In its place was something deeper. Fiercer.
Love, yes—but commanding. Possessive.
Like I was no longer allowed to carry pain alone.
"Clothes off," Scarlett said firmly, stepping behind me.
"What—hey, wait, I can—"
"No." Lyra's voice was ice. "You've done enough. Let us."
Layla was already unfastening my torn coat. It slipped from my shoulders like dead weight.
Scarlett peeled off my ruined shirt with trembling hands, her breath catching at the sight of the bruises.
Blood had crusted along my ribs.
Burn marks marred my chest.
"I hate seeing you like this…" she whispered, tracing a finger down my shoulder with painful gentleness.
I didn't fight them.
I just let it happen.
Bit by bit, they removed everything—until I stood bare under their touch, marked from neck to toe in signs of battle and sacrifice.
And they…
They didn't flinch.
They didn't look away.
Layla knelt with a bowl of warm water, cloth in hand.
Lyra sat by my side, pouring a small vial of glowing potion into another dish.
Scarlett took my hand in both of hers, pressing her forehead gently to it.
"We're going to clean you up," she said softly. "Piece by piece."
They began with the wounds.
Scarlett dipped the cloth into warm water, wrung it out, and began wiping away the dried blood from my chest.
Her touch was soft—but thorough.
I hissed once as she pressed near a burn. She paused immediately.
"Sorry," she whispered, her lips brushing the edge of my collarbone in apology.
Layla took my other side, working down my arms with quiet focus.
Every now and then, her fingers would squeeze mine—tight and grounding.
"You're so dumb," she muttered. "Who told you to train like that alone?"
"You'd do the same," I mumbled.
She scowled. "Doesn't mean I want you to."
Lyra said nothing, but her hands moved expertly across my back. She dabbed a mixture of healing potion and crushed herbs over the deeper bruises.
Then her fingers—light, cool—began rubbing gently in circles.
Relieving tension.
Drawing pain away.
"I'm not good at comforting," she said quietly. "But I can do this."
"You're better than you think," I whispered.
The Bath
They helped me to the large tub in the adjoining room, filled with water that shimmered faintly with blue herbs and glowing flower petals.
The steam smelled of lavender and mana blossoms.
They guided me in gently—letting the warm water envelop me.
My body sank with a sigh I didn't know I was holding.
Layla sat behind me, combing through my tangled hair with her fingers. "You're filthy."
"Gee, thanks."
She chuckled softly. "Still handsome though."
Scarlett was by my side with a small sponge, gently wiping down my arms and chest. Her eyes were serious—focused—but her cheeks were dusted pink.
Lyra was kneeling in front of the tub, her sleeves rolled up as she massaged my calves.
"You're lucky," she murmured. "That your body didn't collapse completely."
The water loosened every knot in my muscles.
Their touch soothed every ache.
I hadn't felt this… human in a long time.
Dressed in Their Hands
When they pulled me from the bath, they wrapped a soft towel around me like I was made of glass.
Layla dried my hair, her fingers stroking gently through it again and again.
Scarlett helped me step into a fresh pair of loose pants and a sleeveless linen shirt.
Lyra adjusted the collar, buttoned it with quiet precision, and whispered,
"There. Ours again."
Feeding the Soul
They sat me down on the bed.
And then—the feast began.
A warm, fragrant bowl of healing herb soup.
Steamed mana-root dumplings.
Crystallized fruit soaked in restorative elixirs.
Scarlett fed me bite by bite, watching my face with every swallow.
Layla kept teasing me whenever I slowed down. "Noah. You're eating until you can't move."
Lyra was quiet, but kept placing small portions beside me. "Eat. You've earned it."
I did.
Until my stomach couldn't hold anymore.
Until my eyes began to droop.
Until my body, finally, surrendered.
The Bed
They tucked me under the blanket.
Scarlett slid in beside me on the left, wrapping her arms carefully around my chest.
Layla laid her head on my right shoulder, fingers tracing small circles against my collarbone.
Lyra didn't say a word. She simply laid across my legs, her hand resting protectively over my stomach.
I could feel the rise and fall of their breathing.
Their warmth, all around me.
Their presence, anchoring my soul.
"…You're staying?" I asked, voice barely a whisper.
"Try making us leave," Layla murmured.
"You scared us," Scarlett added softly. "We're not letting go until you're better."
Lyra's hand tightened on me just slightly.
"We'll watch over you," she said.
Outside the Room
Alea stood silently beside Julia, peeking through the slightly open door.
Inside, she saw her daughter—usually expressionless, cold as winter—curled gently against Noah's sleeping form.
Her eyes were closed, lips faintly curved.
Content.
Whole.
"…I never thought I'd see Lyra look at anyone like that," Alea whispered.
Julia smiled. "That boy has a way of reaching people."
Richard leaned against the wall behind them, arms crossed and shaking his head.
"Didn't think I'd live to see Noah Augustus being babied."
"Don't lie," Julia nudged him. "You're relieved."
"…Yeah," he muttered. "I am."
Back Inside
I was fading fast.
The food, the warmth, their touch—it melted away every shard of pain.
I felt lips press softly against my forehead.
Scarlett's.
Then my cheek.
Layla's.
Then a rare, gentle touch across my jaw.
Lyra.
I opened my eyes one last time.
And whispered, "Thank you."
They didn't reply.
But I could feel it—in the way they held me close, tighter than any spell or sword ever could.
I closed my eyes.
And for the first time in years…
I felt blessed.
To be continued…