"Arlan, you really do need help, don't you?" Evelyn's voice carried a long-suffering sigh as she watched me from the edge of the basin, her arms folded and expression caught somewhere between exasperation and reluctant amusement. The A-class beast's corpse had been dealt with, its massive form reduced and tucked away neatly into my spatial ring. Now, the clear waters of the waterfall's basin served not as a battlefield but as a playground, filled with the bright laughter of children.
"What help?" I called back, grinning like a carefree rogue as I lunged after a squealing girl who shrieked with delight. Her laughter mixed with the roar of the falls as I scooped her up, spinning her in the air before setting her down, her giggles ringing like tiny bells.
Evelyn shook her head, a wisp of her dark hair escaping its braid and falling into her eyes. "I honestly don't know how you've managed to survive this long," she said, half to herself. The weight of her words was softened by the faint curve of a smile.
"Someone sounds a bit grumpy," I teased, letting the water's cool embrace refresh me as I stood waist-deep, droplets glistening on my skin. I glanced her way, my grin widening as a thought struck. Before she could protest or anticipate my intentions, I called on a flicker of water mana. The element surged at my command, quick as a thought, propelling me toward her in an instant.
"Arlan, don't you dare—" The rest of her protest dissolved into a sharp gasp as I reached her, scooping her up with ease and carrying her towards the water's edge.
She spluttered, eyes wide with a mix of indignation and anticipation, but the grin threatening to break through betrayed her. "Arlan, put me down!"
"Your wish is my command," I said with mock solemnity before tossing her into the basin with a splash that sent ripples dancing across the surface. The children erupted into cheers and laughter, clapping their hands as if I'd just performed some grand feat of heroism.
Evelyn surfaced, hair plastered to her face and eyes narrowing at me in a glare that held no real malice. "You insufferable fool," she muttered, but there was laughter under the words, a note of something lighter than I'd ever heard from her.
I waded over, offering a hand as she swiped water from her eyes. "Peace offering?" I asked, brow arched in playful challenge.
She eyed my outstretched hand, weighing her options, and then took it. But before I could pull her up, she tugged hard, and I lost my footing, plunging into the water beside her. The cold rushed over me, and for a moment, all I knew was the bubbling sound of the current and Evelyn's laughter ringing out like sunlight breaking through storm clouds.
I surfaced, sputtering, to see her smirk triumphantly. "See? Even a warrior needs to be reminded of humility."
I chuckled, the sound mingling with the laughter of the children as they splashed around us. "Fair enough, healer," I said, shaking the water from my hair. "Fair enough."
After the playful chaos at the basin, we all made our way back to the heart of the village. The golden light of the afternoon cast everything in a warm, honeyed glow, and the laughter of the children still rang in the air like a song. I stood just outside Evelyn's hut, a slight breeze tugging at my damp clothes as I used a touch of wind and fire magic to dry everyone off. A few sparks flickered harmlessly in the air, the children watching with wide eyes as if it were a grand performance.
As I finished, a little girl with hair the color of straw stepped forward, holding out a small, rosy apple. I tilted my head, curiosity sparking in my eyes.
"This is for playing with us!" she declared, her voice high and earnest.
I smiled, warmth blooming in my chest as I ruffled her hair, which stuck out in all directions like a nest of spun gold. "Thank you," I said, the apple cool and smooth in my hand.
Despite not yet reaching my fourteenth year, I stood tall—taller than most men in the village. It always amused me to see the children look up at me as though I were a giant from their tales.
A tug at my sleeve pulled me from my thoughts, and I looked down to see a boy, his round face serious as he scrutinized me. "I have a question," he said, voice low as if sharing a secret.
"Go ahead," I encouraged him, bending slightly to meet his eyes.
"Are you and big sister Evelyn... uhh... dating?" He stumbled over the last word, the concept clearly foreign and half-understood.
I blinked, caught off guard. A chuckle escaped before I could help it, and I shook my head. "No, we're not."
He frowned, clearly puzzled. "But my parents said you were," he muttered, glancing back at the other children as if they might confirm it.
"Oh? And why would they think that?" I asked, amusement tugging at the corner of my mouth.
The boy shrugged, his expression shifting to one of deep contemplation, as though this mystery deserved his utmost attention. "They said big sister Evelyn never lets anyone stay in her hut for so long, so they thought... you must be special."
I felt a strange mix of embarrassment and warmth settle over me. The simplicity of village life meant that small gestures were often magnified, scrutinized. Evelyn, who was usually so private and guarded, had indeed treated me with an exception that hadn't gone unnoticed.
I glanced over at her. She stood a few paces away, talking to an elderly woman with a basket full of herbs. Her dark hair, now dry and shining, caught the sunlight, and for a moment, she looked less like the serious healer and more like any other young girl, free from the weight of her responsibilities. As if sensing my gaze, she turned, our eyes meeting for the briefest heartbeat before she raised an eyebrow, a silent question on her lips.
I turned back to the boy and smiled. "Sometimes grown-ups see things that aren't there," I said, ruffling his hair. He nodded solemnly, as if I'd imparted some great wisdom, then scampered off to join the others.
Evelyn approached, a small smirk playing on her lips. "What did you tell him?" she asked, her tone light but curious.
"Nothing that would scandalize the village," I replied, unable to keep the teasing note from my voice.
"Good," she said, rolling her eyes but unable to hide the slight upturn of her own smile. "I'm not sure we could handle that kind of chaos."
"Oh, is our esteemed healer finally warming up to me?" I teased, nudging Evelyn lightly with my elbow and flashing a grin. She turned away with a huff, but I caught the faintest hint of a smile before she could hide it.
A chuckle escaped my lips as I caught her reaction. "Apologies for imposing on you so much," I said as we made our way back to her hut, the sun casting its final golden rays across the village.
"It's quite alright," she replied, her voice steady, though softer than before. "You can't leave until you're fully recovered, can you?" I nodded, a weight in my chest. To leave this place the way I had come would require more than half-healed wounds and borrowed strength.
By tomorrow, I would be ready. Tomorrow, I would go.
The sky deepened into hues of amber and crimson, finally surrendering to the encroaching blue-black of night. The first stars flickered hesitantly, soon joined by their countless companions, spreading across the heavens in unfamiliar constellations. I sat just outside the hut, the cool earth grounding me as I tilted my head up, tracing patterns that didn't belong to the world I once knew.
Footsteps crunched softly on the dirt behind me, light as whispers. I smiled without turning. "You're welcome to join me, Evelyn."
There was a pause, the kind that spoke of unspoken thoughts, before she settled beside me, folding her legs gracefully beneath her. The warm, flickering light from a nearby lantern bathed her features, catching in the loose tendrils of her dark hair. For a moment, neither of us spoke, content to share the quiet beneath the stars.
"You'll leave tomorrow, won't you?" she finally asked, breaking the silence. Her voice was steady, but the question was laced with something I couldn't quite name.
"Yes," I replied, exhaling as if the word itself was a release. "By noon, if all goes as planned."
She nodded, and silence reclaimed its place between us. But it was different now, weighted and electric, charged with the knowledge that this was a farewell, whether spoken or not. I turned to look at her, studying the way the soft light danced across her face, highlighting the curve of her jaw, the determined set of her brow.
"Thank you, Evelyn," I said, my voice low but firm. "For everything."
"I was just doing what a healer should," she replied, eyes fixed on the sky, as if searching for answers in the constellations.
"No," I countered gently. "It was more than that. You didn't just heal my body. You gave me a place to rest, a sense of peace I haven't felt in a long time." I paused, searching for the right words. "You offered me more kindness than I could have expected from anyone."
She shifted, finally meeting my eyes, and for a heartbeat, the veil she usually kept firmly in place lifted. There was a vulnerability there, raw and unguarded, that made my next words stick in my throat. But they needed to be said.
"My name isn't Arlan," I began, feeling the weight of the admission press down on me like an old burden finally set to be released. "It's Lancelot. Lancelot von Silvaria, heir to the Grand Duchy of Silvaria."
Her eyes widened, the surprise evident as her lips parted, but no words came out at first. The revelation settled between us like a stone dropped into still water, sending ripples through the silence.
"Why... why tell me this now?" she asked, her voice almost a whisper, a note of uncertainty breaking through her composure.
I looked back up at the stars, the unfamiliar sky that no longer felt so distant. "Because I owe you more than just my thanks. I owe you the truth. And one day, when you decide to leave this village and step into the world beyond, I want you to know there's a place for you in Silvaria. My mother taught me that a Silvaria repays their debts tenfold, and you, Evelyn, have my debt."
For a moment, she just stared at me, eyes searching my face as if trying to find any hint of deceit or jest. But there was none to be found. Her expression shifted, the guarded healer slipping away to reveal a girl caught between disbelief and something else, something softer.
"Lancelot," she said, testing the name on her tongue as though it were a foreign spell. A faint smile touched her lips, hesitant but real. "I'll remember that."
The silence that followed wasn't heavy this time. It was light, like a thread that bound us, fragile but unbreakable. We sat beneath the canopy of stars, two figures in a world that had paused just for this moment, no longer healer and patient, nor warrior and village girl, but simply Evelyn and Lancelot, caught between what was and what might be.
"Then I'll hold you to that," she said at last, her voice carrying the weight of a promise forged under the watchful eyes of the night sky.
And as I looked at her, I knew that whatever lay ahead—beyond the woods, the village, and the battles yet to come—this moment would remain. A simple truth shared beneath unfamiliar stars, untainted by duty or blood, and perhaps, that was enough.