Chapter 372: Chapter 372: The Road Back to Thorne
The crisp mountain air still carried the weight of the hunt. Carriages lined the clearing, guards called orders, and the last remnants of the camp were being dismantled. Soon, each house would return to their own territory.
Noel adjusted Revenant Fang at his side, gaze steady as the moments of departure came one after another.
Elena approached quietly, her steps deliberate. She didn’t hesitate this time—just closed the distance and leaned in, brushing her lips softly against his. It was brief, but enough to make his chest tighten.
"See you in the academy," she whispered, her voice low, meant only for him.
Noel gave her a faint smile. "Yes."
Clara came next, her usual brightness intact despite the exhaustion of the past days. "Take care, Noel. Don’t disappear on us."
"I won’t," he said simply.
Marcus followed, his tone steadier, less competitive than usual. "Don’t overdo it. Even you have limits."
Noel let out a quiet breath. "I’ll keep that in mind."
Then Selene. She didn’t look at her mother waiting nearby—only at Noel. Her gaze lingered longer than necessary before she finally spoke. "I’ll return to the academy. I’ve no reason to... go with her."
Noel didn’t answer, but he understood. ’After everything... of course she wouldn’t.’
Selene turned, walking away with the group bound for the Imperial Academy.
One by one, the goodbyes ended. The clearing grew quieter until only the carriages of House Thorne remained, waiting to carry him back—back to the family and territory he couldn’t avoid any longer.
’Thorne territory... time to complete a mission.’
The clearing was thinning fast, most banners already lowered, carriages rolling out. Selene stood still for a moment, wand in hand, her eyes cold as they fixed on the silver-haired woman waiting at the edge.
Vaelora von Iskandar—matriarch, warrior, mother.
"Selene," Vaelora began, her voice lower than most remembered. Not sharp, not commanding—almost careful. "You’ve done well. Come with me. We’ll return home together."
Selene’s reply came clipped, immediate. "No. I’ll go to the academy."
Vaelora’s gaze tightened. "You don’t have to stay apart. I... am trying."
Selene’s lips pressed into a thin line. "Too late to try."
The words cut the air between them. For years, she had endured cruelty, harshness, hunger. A single year of change could not erase that weight.
Vaelora’s shoulders shifted, but she didn’t argue. Instead, she exhaled, long and steady, before nodding once. "Then do as you wish. Just... stay strong."
Selene turned without another word, her cloak brushing against the stone.
Noel was waiting near the carriages of House Thorne. Their eyes met briefly as she passed.
"We’ll have to talk with the others when we’re all together," Selene said, her voice quieter, not for her mother’s ears.
Noel nodded, expression calm. "That’s right. Everything in its time. Take care, Selene. Drop by with the others if you want."
For just a heartbeat, her stern façade cracked, the faintest warmth flickering in her cyan eyes. Then she turned, striding toward the group bound for the Imperial Academy.
Noel watched her leave, the words lingering in the morning air. ’All in due time.’
Behind him, the Thorne carriage waited, wheels creaking against stone. The journey back was about to begin.
The carriage rocked gently as it rolled down the mountain road, leaving the camp and its banners behind. Unlike the snowy peaks further north, these slopes soon gave way to forested paths, and beyond them, the coastal winds of Nivaria would fade into the more temperate lands of Thorne.
Inside, Noel sat across from Sylvette. The silence stretched between them, heavy but not uncomfortable.
She was the first to break it. "You really don’t have much to say about the hunt?"
Noel leaned back, arms crossed loosely. "Not really. I hunted, I survived. That’s all there is to it."
Sylvette arched a brow, studying him. "You call that nothing? You outlasted everyone. Even me. How?"
Noel’s gaze flicked to her, calm and steady. "I’m stronger. That’s all."
The bluntness of the answer made her blink. For a moment, she almost laughed, but the truth in his tone kept her quiet. She shifted, folding her arms.
"So," she pressed, "do you realize what that means?"
Noel didn’t answer immediately. He watched the forest blur past the window, his thoughts far from the rocky trail. ’First place... heirship... all the things I don’t want.’
Sylvette’s voice cut back in, steady but sharp. "It means you’re the rightful heir now. More than anyone else."
Noel finally looked at her, his lips curving faintly in something that wasn’t quite a smile. "Not interested. That position will be yours."
Sylvette narrowed her eyes. "You’re certain of that? Just like that?"
"Yes," Noel said flatly. "Think about it. Remember last year’s hunt? Two of our siblings ruined themselves. Another sister is already married off. That leaves you and me. And I don’t want anything to do with our house."
Sylvette sat back, silent for a moment. Her expression softened slightly, curiosity replacing sharpness. For the first time, she wondered if her younger brother wasn’t the rival she thought—but something else entirely.
The wheels of the carriage clattered over stone, the steady rhythm marking time as the mountain road stretched on. Outside, the scenery changed slowly—the jagged peaks thinning into wooded slopes, the air losing its sharp bite as the warmer lands of Thorne drew closer.
Inside, the silence between Noel and Sylvette lingered, but it was no longer heavy. It had shifted.
Sylvette studied him openly now, her sharp blue eyes narrowed not in suspicion, but in thought. "You really mean it, don’t you? You’d give up the heirship without hesitation."
Noel’s gaze stayed on the window, watching the blur of trees. "I already told you. I don’t want it. Never have."
Her lips pressed together. For so long, she’d seen him as another piece on the board—one more rival to outmaneuver in the endless game of family politics. But now...
"You’re strange," she murmured. "Most of us fight for recognition. For the chance to be seen. And you..." Her eyes softened, just a fraction. "...you walk away from it."
Noel finally turned his head, his gray eyes meeting hers. "Because power without freedom is just another kind of chain."
The words hung in the carriage, heavier than the rattle of wheels. Sylvette didn’t reply immediately. Instead, she leaned back, crossing her arms, her expression unreadable.
But something in her view of him had shifted. The arrogance she’d carried when looking at her younger brother was gone, replaced by something quieter.
Respect.
Outside, the carriage crested a ridge, the path winding down toward the plains. The banners of House Thorne would rise soon on the horizon—but the journey wasn’t over yet.
The wheels kept turning, carrying them toward the inevitable.