Chapter Two – The Silence in His Glyph
Part Ten – Selka's Promise
Date: Maelis 27, Year 204 PCR
Location: Doctrine Tower Annex – Recovery Wing, Resonant Bed 7
Time: 11:57 Veil Standard
He didn't say anything when he opened his eyes again.
Not this time.
No sharp breath.
No flinch.
Just quiet awareness—like a tide pulling back before the sea remembers how to crash again.
Zephryn blinked once.
Twice.
His glyph didn't glow.
Didn't flicker.
It simply rested.
Folded beneath the skin like a name that no longer needed to be spoken aloud.
He turned his head—
And saw Selka.
—
She was asleep.
Seated in a broken chair pulled too close to his bedside, her legs folded up beneath her, arms crossed, blade still sheathed but upright against her shoulder.
Not guarding.
Vigilant.
Even in rest, she was watching over something.
Not someone fragile.
But something worth fighting for.
—
Zephryn moved slightly.
The creak of the cot stirred her.
Her eyes opened—not startled, just focused.
"You're awake," she said, voice dry.
"Didn't mean to wake you."
"You didn't."
She stretched once and stood, cracking her shoulder.
"I was dreaming anyway."
"What about?"
She didn't answer at first.
Then—
"About you disappearing again."
—
Zephryn looked down.
"…Sorry."
Selka frowned.
Hard.
She stepped closer.
"Don't be."
"You're allowed to be afraid. You're allowed to forget. You're allowed to fall apart. You don't owe me anything for breaking under the weight of something that was never yours to carry."
Zephryn said nothing.
Until he did.
"I remembered a name."
She met his eyes.
"Yours?"
He nodded slowly.
"…Rael."
She was quiet for a breath.
Then she stepped closer.
And placed her hand firmly on his chest.
Right over the glyph.
"You'll always be Zephryn to me."
—
They stood in silence.
The glyph pulsed once beneath her hand.
Not brightly.
Not dangerously.
Just enough to say thank you.
—
Then she turned.
Picked up her blade.
Sat back down.
And said the words that no one had said to him since the night the world broke.
Words that weren't soft.
Weren't romantic.
Weren't performative.
They were vows.
"If they try to take you again…"
"…I'll burn the Doctrine myself."
—
No smile.
No tremble.
Just truth.
Just Selka Veyel—Resonant of the Blade Bloom, protector of what the world keeps trying to forget.
Zephryn blinked.
Then smiled.
"…Don't let them hear you say that."
She looked at him again.
"I want them to."
—
Outside the chamber, Buta stood.
Back turned to the door.
His voice—barely audible—carried into the room like a thread.
"Good."
"Because they already have."