Both Narvel and Joseline remained locked in their embrace for a few quiet moments, neither willing to break the fragile stillness that had settled between them. Eventually, Joseline pulled away, her gaze flickering toward Greaves as if just remembering she was there.
Greaves, arms crossed and a knowing smile playing on her lips had been watching them with quiet amusement.
"You're finally showing a bit of emotion," she remarked, her voice laced with teasing approval.
Narvel blinked, momentarily puzzled by the statement.
To him, Joseline had always been an overly emotional girl. He had expected tears, maybe even sobs, especially if she truly believed he had been taken by the Federation and lost for two years. Yet, as he looked at her now, something felt different.
His heart skipped a beat.
'She's always been beautiful, but never like this. Has she matured that much?'
His own reflection flickered in the glass not so far behind her, and he frowned slightly. Despite everything, his body had barely changed—aside from the small scalding injuries that marred his skin, he still looked like his seventeen-year-old self. The thought unsettled him, deepening the feeling of unease that had already formed in his gut.
He as though he had been left behind once again, and he didn't like that feeling at all.
"Tell us what happened to you," Greaves prompted, moving toward a chair and settling down with the weight of someone prepared to hear something important. Joseline and Narvel followed suit, their movements slow, and deliberate, something that they were used to doing.
Whenever they walked together, they loved to walk at the same pace in synchronized movements. It was a habit of theirs.
A thick silence stretched between them after they sat down.
Narvel exhaled. "Well… where do I even begin?" He hesitated, gathering his thoughts. "The night Joesy got infected, I went into the Crucible to find her. I—I wanted to protect her. Knowing how she is…" He faltered and looked at Joseline.
Something about the way Joseline sat now, how she watched him with quiet intensity, made the words catch in his throat. The girl he had risked his life for had changed—there was no denying that. It felt wrong to describe her the way he once had. He corrected himself; "…Or was, I feared she might have been too sick to run for her life, too weak to survive in that place. I was afraid I'd lose her."
A small, unexpected smile curved Joseline's lips. It was subtle and fleeting, but it held a depth of emotion that Narvel couldn't quite place. For anyone else, it might have looked like simple amusement, but he could sense the undercurrent of something stronger—something like reminiscence.
And yet, seeing it made his chest tighten.
"Why are you smiling?" He blurted before he could stop himself.
Joseline blinked as if she hadn't even realized she was smiling. She had been leaning back against her chair, her posture casual, but now she sat up straighter as a hint of blush rose to her pale cheeks.
"This is the first time in two years I've seen you smile," Greaves noted, her own lips curling into a satisfied smirk.
Narvel frowned. "Huh? Really?"
Greaves nodded. "That bubbly, reckless girl you knew died two years ago—the night she came back and found out you'd been missing for more than two weeks."
Silence.
The words hit him like a blow to the chest.
Narvel's gaze flickered toward Joseline, scanning her face for something—anything—that might contradict Greaves' claim.
But while her blush had faded, there was something else hidden in her expression, something guarded. Even without visible emotion, Narvel's heightened sensitivity to people's feelings told him the truth. Beneath the surface, beneath the ice she now carried in her presence, there was pain. A deep, seething wound that was filled with hatred.
And he felt that he was the cause of it.
"I'm sorry, Joesy," he said, his voice lower than before.
Joseline blinked in surprise, visibly taken aback. For a moment, she simply stared at him before shaking her head softly. "As long as you're safe, that's all that matters." She offered a small, teasing smirk, but her eyes betrayed something else. "Seems like I'm not the only one who's changed these past few years."
It was a joke, but the way she said it lacked the usual lightness. It startled her—his apology.
Despite everything they had been through, Narvel had never been the type to apologize outright. If anything, he had always been the kind of person who would try to make up for his mistakes through actions, small gifts, gestures—never words.
"It only felt like a few days to me," he admitted.
Greaves leaned forward slightly. "What do you mean?"
Narvel exhaled, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "From that night to now, it only felt like two days to me."
Joseline's expression darkened slightly. "Since when did you awaken your Novara gene?"
Right from the moment he began speaking about the night that he went into the Crucible to search for Joseline, his two audiences could tell that Narvel had awakened his Novara Gene before that night, but they couldn't tell when.
"Two weeks before my parents went missing."
Both Greaves and Joseline visibly stiffened. For the first time since the conversation started, genuine shock crossed their faces.
'That was around when he was 10,' Joseline reasoned.
"You've been living as a Nova for that long without telling us?" Greaves exclaimed.
Narvel shrugged slightly, but there was no real nonchalance in his posture. "Before that night, I had only been to the Crucible twice. The first time was when I awakened. The second was when I was nearly corrupted by the Whispers."
Another silence, this one heavier than the last. They both knew how debilitating the Whispers can be, after all, they have both experienced it. However, they could only imagine what he had gone through as this would mean that he stayed years apart without relieving himself of the baggage of those chilling voices.
Joseline and Greaves exchanged a look, one laden with understanding.
Narvel had always been secretive. That much was no surprise. But this—this was something different.
This was something he should have told them.
Nonetheless, they were also deeply shocked because it was extremely rare to find children of that age who had awakened their Novara gene and survived for this long.
Primarily, because once awakened, they are drawn to the Crucible, where 99% of them perish, transforming into Havocs on Earth before being dealt with. Anyone who manages to survive that place at such a young age is either extraordinarily lucky or possesses exceptional powers and talents. This is a widely accepted truth among most Novas, as they, too, understand the true nature of that dimension.
However, at the moment, all they could sense from Narvel was a weak, fluctuating energy. They could tell he was a Nova, but his presence felt no different from that of someone who had only awakened a few days ago.
"What level are you?" Greaves asked, her gaze sharp with suspicion.
"Level? I'm still at Awakened, 19%."
"What!?" Greaves' voice rose in disbelief. "Don't lie to me, boy. How the hell did you survive in that place for over two years while still being at the Awakened level? Were you locked up somewhere? Trapped in an Anchor?"
"As I said, Greaves, it only felt like two days to me. And no, I've never been inside an Anchor before," Narvel replied, his voice steady but firm. "I avoided danger many times in that forest thanks to my pet, and—" He suddenly stopped mid-sentence.
A realization struck him. He hadn't unsummoned Voidscale. Which meant… the beast had followed him here.
The moment he became aware of this, he called out, "Voidscale, come here now."
A few seconds passed. Joseline and Greaves exchanged glances, expecting to see him summon a creature. Then, a thin gust of dark smoke slithered past them before coiling around Narvel's shoulder, solidifying into a sleek, serpentine form.
Another shock.
Both women stared at the creature, studying its movements, and its strange aura. However, their surprise quickly faded when they sensed that Voidscale's level wasn't much different from Narvel's own.
"Thanks to this lizard, I was able to avoid danger," Narvel explained. "It's extremely sensitive to threats."
Unbeknownst to him, Voidscale was on edge, its sleek body tensed like a coiled spring. It could feel immense danger radiating from the two women, even though they weren't outwardly hostile. Its instincts screamed at it to flee.
It began begging Narvel—whispering through their link—pleading to be sent back to the Crucible. It would rather feast on the bird they left behind than remain in this room with these two.
Without a second thought, Narvel heeded its silent cries and unsummoned Voidscale, sending it back to the depths from which it came.
Even now, he feared the Whispers might return—drawn to him the more he used his powers outside the Crucible…