Chapter Text
The sun was kind today.
It spilled through the trees in golden threads, casting soft light over the quiet courtyard.
The day felt warm, the wind had no scent.
Cale leaned back against the cool stone of the courtyard wall, legs stretched lazily before him. Sunlight filtered through the canopy of the lone tree, dappling the faded tiles in golden patches. The petals had started to fall early this year—drifting down like dust over the quiet earth.
A breath left his lungs. Not a sigh. Just… release.
He glanced at the patch of earth under the tree, where grass refused to grow.
A smile curled his lips. “Still hogging the best spot, huh?”
The breeze answered for him, rustling the branches above.
He tilted his head, listening.
“I told you spring would come fast,” he murmured, eyes half-lidded. “Even though the others kept saying it’d be late again.”
A petal landed on his sleeve. He didn’t brush it off.
The courtyard was still
Just still.
...
Raon came by around midday.
He didn’t speak at first. Just hovered near the edge of the courtyard, small wings tucked tight to his back, eyes flicking toward the center—then away. His claws clacked faintly on the stone.
Cale didn’t look at him.
“I heard you arguing with Rosalyn again,” he said casually.
Raon froze.
“…It wasn’t—really.” he mumbled, staring down at his feet.
“She wants to move forward didn't she? You don’t. You can't keep going on like this, you know?”
The words came easily from Cale. No judgment. Just truth.
Raon shifted, seemingly think about something for a long time, wings fluttering faintly. “You always say things like that.”
Cale gave a small smile. “Things like what?”
The small black dragon continue to mumble something in a small voice after a few seconds.
“…Things you’re not supposed to know.”
A breeze stirred the petals. They didn’t lift.
Raon sniffed once, rubbed his snout, then muttered, “I’m going to the library.”
“Tell Choi Han to stop giving the apple pie to the birds that like to hanging out under the tree,” Cale called after him.
Raon didn’t respond. Just vanished in a flicker of black.
...
Later, Cale wandered into the halls. The air indoors was thick, like it hadn’t been aired out in weeks.
The servants do their own things as he passed, but none of them met his eyes. Just the way he requested of them.
He made his way to the war room. The doors were half-open. Inside, voices murmured, hushed and tired.
Alberu stood over a map, candlelight throwing shadows under his eyes.
“…still holding the east, but morale is…”
Choi Han shifted beside him. “We shouldn’t leave him alone so often.”
Alberu’s hand twitched. “He’s never alone.”
Cale stepped through the door.
“You’re talking about me again.”
They didn’t look up.
Cale frowned faintly, then walked past them to the edge of the table. He glanced down at the markings on the map. “You’ve moved the northern line.”
Silence.
Then Alberu spoke, low and stiff. “Had to.”
“Hm,” Cale said, tapping the table. “Makes sense.”
The candle near him flickered violently.
Neither of them looked at him, too deeply into their discussion, like they are still ignoring him for his last overused of powers. Tsk.
Cale snorts.
"Hmpft. Rude."
...
He returned to the courtyard that night. The petals hadn’t moved. Not even in the wind.
He sat down again at the base of the tree. Not because he needed to rest—just because it felt right.
“They’re getting better at this,” he said, voice quiet. “Better than the first day anyway, much better.”
He looked around the empty courtyard.
“I think they still miss you.”
A beat.
Cale tilted his head thoughtfully.
“…Or maybe they miss me.”
He smiled, like it was a joke.