The world returned to Noah in fragments, with light first, then sound, then pain.
He groaned softly, his body feeling heavy. The scent of disinfectants filled his nose, and when he tried to move, pain lanced across his ribs and shoulder.
His vision finally cleared after a few seconds, revealing the familiar white tiles of the ceiling above and the faint rustle of curtains around his bed.
He was in the infirmary.
His entire torso was bound in layers of linen, and he could feel the effects of a healing potion running through his body. Someone had gone to great lengths to fix him up.
Then, like a flood breaking through a dam, the memories crashed into his mind.
The King’s study.
The woman in the cloak.
Her voice in his mind.
"We’re not finished with you yet."
Noah jolted upright. The sudden movement sent pain flaring through his ribs.
He gritted his teeth and pressed a hand to his chest, breathing hard.
The infirmary was quiet. Rows of empty beds stretched across the room.
Outside, faint light filtered through the windows, suggesting it was early morning.
He looked down at himself again, patched, bruised, but alive.
Who had brought him back?
The door creaked open before he could ponder further. A young nurse entered, carrying a tray. Her expression shifted from surprise to exasperation the moment she saw him sitting up.
"You shouldn’t be moving," she sighed, setting the tray down on the bedside table. "You’re lucky to even be awake."
She poured water from the pitcher and handed it to him.
Noah accepted it gratefully, drinking deeply. The water was cool and fresh, easing the dryness in his throat. When he finished, he set the cup down and looked at her.
"What happened?" he asked quietly.
The nurse hesitated, her lips pressing together. For a long moment, she seemed to consider whether she should even answer. Then, with a somber look, she said softly, "The king is dead. And the capital... is in ruins."
Noah paused.
He looked at her, trying to read her expression, to see if there was some hint of exaggeration or misunderstanding. But there was none. Her face was pale, her eyes tired and hollow.
"The dragon?" he asked after a long silence.
She nodded. "Killed by His Majesty himself. But he... didn’t survive it."
Noah exhaled slowly, his mind turning. King Cillian was dead.
He was still processing it when the door opened again.
Professor Cecilia stepped in.
She was dressed in a red fitted robe, her hair pulled into a high ponytail.
But there was something different about her. Following her were two men in long, gray cloaks embroidered with the sigil of the Investigation Authority.
The sight of them made Noah tense immediately.
"Professor," he greeted cautiously.
She gave him a small, tired smile. "Noah. It’s good to see you awake."
The nurse quickly gathered her things and slipped out, leaving them alone.
Cecilia motioned to the men beside her. "They’re with the Investigation Authority. They have some questions."
Noah’s eyes flicked between them, his eyes narrowing. If they tried any funny business, he wouldn’t hold back.
One of the agents stepped forward.
"Noah Webb," he said formally. "You were found unconscious in the King’s study after the attack. We’re not here to accuse you of anything. We simply need to know what happened."
Cecilia shot Noah a small, reassuring glance. "You’re not in trouble," she said softly. "Just tell them what you can."
Noah leaned back against the pillows, forcing himself to appear calm.
"I noticed someone sneaking away during the chaos after the dragon attacked," he said. "They were heading towards the palace interior. So I followed."
He paused, choosing his words carefully.
"When I caught up, they were in the King’s study. They... had already stolen something. A chest. I tried to stop them, but then a force slammed into me. That’s the last thing I remember."
The agents exchanged a glance.
"The chest," the second one said. "Did you see what was inside?"
"No," Noah answered. "I didn’t."
They asked for more details. The person’s height, build, voice.
He gave them the answers they wanted but mentioned nothing of the telepathy, the unnatural strength, or the name Lady in Dark.
He even downplayed his own power, describing the confrontation as brief and one-sided.
When they were satisfied, the first agent nodded curtly. "Thank you for your cooperation. Rest. You’ve done the kingdom a service by even trying to stop them."
And with that, they left.
The room was silent for several seconds after the door closed.
Then, Cecilia exhaled quietly and sank into the chair beside his bed. "Now," she said, her eyes filled with concern, "what really happened?"
Noah met her gaze. He could see the exhaustion in her eyes, but also the trust. She deserved some truth, even if not all of it.
"The thief called herself Lady in Dark," he said. "She was strong. Extremely strong. I think she’s part of something bigger. Maybe the same people behind the dragon attack."
Cecilia’s eyes darkened. "So this isn’t over."
"No," Noah said quietly.
She rubbed her temples, then sighed heavily. "The kingdom’s barely standing as it is."
"What happened after the dragon?" he asked.
Cecilia hesitated, then said softly, "Princess Ines was found unconscious. She’s alive, but... she hasn’t woken up. No injuries or external causes for something like this. Just... asleep."
Noah nodded. "And the kingdom?"
"Being run by the Council for now."
Her expression turned grim. "But that’s the problem. Several of them are now hybrid. And since they retained their sanity and helped fight the dragon, they’re untouchable for now."
"The First Premier, Thomas Ramsay, leads the hybrids. He’s already consolidating power."
"With the king gone and High Magus Edric at the border, there’s no one to counterbalance him." Cecilia said bitterly. "And it’s put me in a dangerous position."
"How so?"
She gave a short, humorless laugh. "I’m the King’s sister. A member of the Pendragon family. If Ines dies or never wakes, the Council could do anything. They could make me queen... or kill me."
Her gaze met his. "Either way, I’m trapped here at the academy. As always, I can’t leave."
Silence filled the air, each one lost in thought.
Finally, Noah said, "When’s the funeral?"
"Soon," she replied quietly. "Three days."
Noah looked down at his hands. His fingers trembled faintly.
No one knew. What the hybrids represented. What it would mean if they spread. He’d have to take care of it himself.
He was about to speak when the door creaked open again.
They both turned.
Arlo stood at the doorway, still dressed in the same attire as last night, his expression uncharacteristically grim.
"Noah," he said softly. "You’re awake."