The medicine worked like magic. Only now, with the warmth settling into his limbs and the fog lifting from his mind, could Lucen finally admit to himself that he had been sick before — truly sick. The real miracle wasn't just that the fever had vanished; it was the strange surge of strength and stamina humming through him, as if the concoction had seeped into his bones and awakened something dormant.
"I see why the dragon shell tree is extinct in Solara. It is very addictive," Lucen said, rolling his shoulders experimentally as if testing this new strength.
Eiran chuckled and sat beside him on the bed, the mattress dipping slightly. "Do you ever wish you were born earlier? Like before the war, before the gods disappeared?"
Lucen blinked, surprised by the sudden shift. "I think so… yeah, I have. But that was long ago."
"Long ago?" Eiran asked, leaning in a little, genuinely curious.
"Yeah… when everything around you gives you a reason to question your existence, your purpose, who you truly are," Lucen said. His voice softened, almost as if he were speaking to a memory rather than a person.
Eiran's brows drew together. "So then, you've stopped thinking that?"
Lucen nodded slowly. "Sometimes you have to accept things as they are. There is nothing you can do to change how things are now. Some people did stupid things, and we have to face their consequences." He paused, exhaling. "Besides, I'm certain people in that time also had their problems, wishing they were born in ours. That's just how the gods created this world — you just have to be content with it."
Eiran's expression darkened. "So we just sit there and do nothing, all in the name of contentment?"
Lucen stiffened. The shift in Eiran's tone was sharp — too sharp. "Eiran…?"
Eiran didn't look at him. His jaw tightened, his fingers curling slightly against the bedsheet. "Is that really what you believe? That we're meant to just accept everything? That the world is fixed and we're powerless to change it?"
Lucen swallowed. He had heard that tone before — in himself, in others who had been pushed too far. "Eiran… did you ask because of the medicinal plants that used to populate Solara at the time?" Lucen asked.
He knew that wasn't the real reason — not even close — but he said it anyway, hoping to coax Eiran back from whatever shadow he had stepped into. The switch in his demeanor was scaring him more than he wanted to admit. He had seen people break before, seen smiles hide storms, and the last thing he wanted was to watch someone else fall apart in front of him.
Eiran's eyes flicked to him, something unreadable in them. For a moment, Lucen thought he might actually answer honestly.
Then Eiran nodded. "Mm."
But the nod was too quick. Too neat. Too practiced.
And just like that, his warm, friendly smile returned — bright, easy, almost blinding. "Dude, have you seen the variety of plants that existed? There were like… twenty different species of healing vines alone! And don't even get me started on the glowing moss — that stuff was insane."
Lucen stared at him, unsure whether to laugh or worry. "You… really like plants."
"Like? Lucen, I worship them," Eiran said dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. "If the gods ever return, they better bring back the flora catalog because I have complaints."
Lucen snorted despite himself. "You are ridiculous."
"And you are boring," Eiran shot back with a grin. "Perfect balance."
Lucen shook his head, but the smile tugging at his lips betrayed him. "You are impossible."
"Mm. And yet here you are." Eiran said, bumping his shoulder lightly against Lucen's.
"You say that like I had a say in the matter." Lucen chuckled.
"You did not have a choice so do not mention say." Eiran laughed.
"You know that is not fair." Lucen protested.
"Life is not fair, my friend. Thus, you are stuck with me." Eiran said proudly.
Lucen felt the warmth of the contact linger longer than it should have. "Unfortunately."
Eiran gasped. "Wow. Hurtful. I heal you, save your life, give you magical fruit juice, and this is the thanks I get?"
Lucen rolled his eyes. "You didn't save my life."
"Not yet," Eiran said with a wink. "But give me time."
Lucen looked away, trying — and failing — to hide the faint color rising in his cheeks. "You're insufferable."
"And you're welcome." Eiran teased.
"Unbelievable, you." Lucen shook his head.
"Ridiculous, impossible, insufferable… make a choice, man." Eiran laughed, tossing his hands up dramatically.
Lucen chuckled under his breath. "Is that why you brought me here?"
"Is it wrong to hang out with my best friend?" Eiran asked with a knowing smirk, the kind that made Lucen's stomach twist for reasons he refused to examine.
"Best friend?" Lucen repeated, testing the word on his tongue as if it were foreign.
"Why? You do not like?" Eiran asked, lower lip jutting out in a pending pout that was far too effective for someone his age.
"I mean… er…" Lucen's eyes darted around the room, desperately searching for something — anything — that could save him from answering.
His gaze landed on the bed's headboard, where a Prince Eiran–themed calendar hung proudly, a calendar displaying the current year together with the two consecutive ones, suggesting the levels. Each month featured a different pose, each one more oblivious and unintentionally dramatic than the last. But what caught Lucen's attention were the markings — several dates circled in blue, and three circled in red, bold and unmistakable.
"What is that?" Lucen asked, pointing.
"It is a calendar, duh…" Eiran chuckled, leaning back as if he'd said something profound.
Lucen raised a brow lazily. "Really…?"
"Okay, okay." Eiran lifted both hands where Lucen could see them, surrendering with exaggerated innocence. "If you are talking about the marked dates, they are the highlights of the level."
"Highlights?" Lucen repeated.
"Mm." Eiran nodded. "Like the core activity for the level. Level One is team building. After that level, the Academy selects students at random and forms a team — one student from every faction."
Lucen watched him gesture with his hands, the excitement in Eiran's voice making the explanation feel almost like a story.
"Level Two is when the teams actually begin functioning," Eiran continued. "The first half of the level is mostly small theory — coordination drills, shared tactics, all the boring stuff. But the second half is for quests, where everything you've learned gets put to the test. And for the last level…" He paused, eyes brightening. "The teams train within themselves for the final showdown. All teams compete in a grand competition, and the top two teams earn the right to duel for the title of top students in each faction. Those students get the highest recommendations and graduate straight into the top positions in the kingdom."
Lucen nodded slowly. "So those dates…"
"Dates for each stage in the level," Eiran finished, tapping the calendar lightly.
"So you just happened to know it?" Lucen asked, narrowing his eyes with mild suspicion.
"Actually… these were my brother's dates," Eiran said.
"Older?"
Eiran nodded. "He was ten years older." He said with sadness evident.
Was. Lucen felt the word hit him like a cold draft. He was sure he heard it right. The shift was subtle, but unmistakable. This cute, smiling freak of nature — this sunshine wrapped healer who laughed too easily and talked too fast — knew something about true loss. Real loss. The kind that didn't fade, the kind that carved itself into a person and stayed there, quiet and heavy.
Did that mean the smile he wore wasn't just joy? Was it a shield? A mask? A way to bury something deeper — pain, sorrow, despair, the kind of quiet ache that hid behind laughter?
Lucen's chest tightened.
Maybe Eiran wasn't as untouched by the world as he pretended.
Maybe he wasn't the only one who had learned to survive by pretending everything was fine.
And for the first time, Lucen wondered what kind of grief could make someone smile that brightly.
Eiran quickly wiped away the sadness and tried to mask it with a smile — but it failed miserably. It didn't fit his face this time. It looked forced, misplaced, like a bright sticker slapped over a crack. The kind of smile that trembled at the edges, that begged not to be examined too closely. Lucen saw it instantly, the way the corners of Eiran's lips lifted but his eyes didn't follow.
"You do not have to try that hard with me," Lucen said before he even realized the words had escaped him. They slipped out naturally, instinctively — as if his heart had spoken before his mind could interfere.
Eiran's head snapped toward him. "Huh?" There was a flicker in his eyes — confusion, surprise, maybe even fear — quickly smothered beneath habit.
"You can show other emotions besides your smile," Lucen said gently. His voice softened, as if he were afraid to scare Eiran back behind that mask. "You can show it off to others, if you want… but with me? All emotions are welcome. No one can be perfect. That's why we all need at least one person who can hold us through our imperfections. Pain was not made for one to carry alone, but for another to anchor you through it."
The room felt quieter after he spoke, as if the air itself paused to listen.
Lucen offered him a warm, steady smile — not the kind that demanded anything, not the kind that expected him to be okay, but the kind that simply said I'm here. A smile that didn't push, didn't pry, didn't pretend. A smile that made space. It settled gently between them, softening the air, easing the tension Eiran thought he had hidden well. It was the kind of smile that invited honesty without asking for it, the kind that told him he didn't have to perform or hold himself together. For the first time in a long while, Eiran felt seen — not for his cheer, but for his humanity.
Eiran felt something shift inside him. It was small at first — a tremor, a loosening — but it spread quickly, like warmth returning to a limb long gone numb. The familiarity in Lucen's voice, the quiet understanding in his eyes… it struck a place he had kept locked for years. A place he had buried under jokes, under cheerfulness, under the belief that no one wanted to see the parts of him that hurt. For so long, he had convinced himself that smiling was easier than explaining, that laughter was safer than honesty. But now, sitting beside someone who wasn't afraid of the shadows he hid, he felt the old walls inside him soften. It was terrifying — and strangely comforting — to realize that someone might actually stay even after seeing the cracks.And in that moment, they both knew — truly knew — that neither of them was alone anymore. Not in the way that mattered. Not in the way that haunted them at night.
After all the pain, all the loss, all the silent nights spent pretending they were fine, they had finally found what they had been searching for:
Solace in a quiet place.