The desert was quiet again.
Too quiet.
The wind that had once roared now barely whispered across the dunes, carrying faint trails of sand that slipped through the air like ghosts of what had just happened. The heat still lingered, pressing against the skin, but the violence—
The power—
The overwhelming clash that had shaken the very space around them—
Was gone.
All that remained was silence.
And the body.
Evan stood where he was, unmoving.
His eyes were fixed on the spot where the old man had fallen—where Lyra's blade had ended everything in a single, clean motion.
There was no movement now.
No breath.
No presence.
Just stillness.
Final.
Evan's fingers trembled slightly at his sides.
His stomach churned again, though there was nothing left to throw up. The dryness in his throat burned, his chest rising and falling unevenly as he tried to steady his breathing.
But it didn't work.
Because no matter how much he tried—
The image didn't leave.
The flames.
The scream.
The way it ended.
So quickly.
So… absolutely.
"…My prince."
Lyra's voice was softer now.
Gone was the cold sharpness from before.
Gone was the weight of killing intent.
What remained—
Was something gentler.
Evan didn't respond.
He couldn't.
His mind felt… scattered.
Like it hadn't fully caught up to what had just happened.
A few seconds passed.
Then—
Lyra moved.
Not quickly.
Not suddenly.
But carefully.
She stepped toward him, each movement measured, controlled—as if she were approaching something fragile.
Which, in a way—
He was.
She stopped just in front of him.
Close enough to reach him.
But not close enough to overwhelm him.
"…Evan."
His name.
Not "my prince."
Not formal.
Not distant.
Just—
Evan.
That alone made something shift.
Slightly.
His shoulders tensed.
Then loosened.
Just a little.
"…Look at me," she said quietly.
He hesitated.
For a moment, it felt difficult.
Like turning away from what just happened meant acknowledging it.
Accepting it.
But slowly—
He lifted his gaze.
Their eyes met.
Lyra's expression was different.
There was no coldness.
No detachment.
Only concern.
Real, unfiltered concern.
"…I am sorry."
Evan blinked.
The words didn't register at first.
"…What?"
"I should not have let you see that," she said softly.
Her voice held something rare.
Something he hadn't heard from her before.
Regret.
"I misjudged," she continued. "I forgot that—"
She stopped.
Just for a moment.
"…You are still a child."
Silence followed.
The wind passed between them, carrying grains of sand that brushed lightly against their clothes.
Evan stared at her.
Then—
Something in his expression changed.
Not anger.
Not fear.
But… thought.
"…Lyra."
His voice was quieter now.
More grounded.
"…If you didn't kill him…"
He paused.
Trying to put it into words.
"…He would've taken me, right?"
Lyra didn't answer immediately.
But her eyes said enough.
"…Yes."
Evan swallowed.
"…And I would've died."
Another pause.
"…Most likely."
The honesty didn't hurt.
Not really.
Because deep down—
He already knew.
He looked down at the sand beneath his feet.
The grains shifted slightly as the wind moved across them.
"…Then you did the right thing."
Lyra froze.
Just slightly.
"…What?"
Evan looked back up at her.
His expression wasn't childish.
It wasn't naïve.
If anything—
It was too calm.
"…You protected me."
A pause.
"…That's your job, right?"
Lyra didn't speak.
"…And this world…" Evan continued slowly, "It's not… nice."
He let out a small breath.
"…It's more like…"
He searched for the word.
Then—
"…a place where the strong take what they want."
A true dog-eat-dog world.
Lyra's gaze deepened.
"…Yes."
Evan nodded slightly.
"…Then if you didn't stop him…"
A pause.
"…I'd be the one lying there."
Silence.
The weight of those words settled between them.
Not heavy.
Not crushing.
But real.
Lyra watched him carefully.
"…You understand that?"
Evan hesitated.
Then gave a small, uncertain shrug.
"…I think so."
That was honest.
He didn't fully understand it.
Not emotionally.
Not completely.
But logically—
It made sense.
And right now—
That was enough.
Lyra's expression softened further.
"…Even so," she said quietly, "you should not have been made to witness it like that."
She took a step closer.
"…I assumed…"
A pause.
"…That you would handle it better."
Evan blinked.
"…Hey."
Lyra looked at him.
"…I did handle it."
A beat.
"…Kind of."
Lyra's lips twitched.
Just slightly.
"…You threw up."
"…Details."
That earned the faintest hint of amusement in her eyes.
But it faded quickly.
"…You are five years old, Evan."
Her voice was gentle.
"…You should not be forced to accept such things so soon."
Evan looked at her.
Really looked this time.
At the concern.
At the regret.
At the way she was… blaming herself.
And for some reason—
That felt worse than what had just happened.
"…Lyra."
She stilled.
"…You didn't do anything wrong."
Silence.
"…I mean it."
He stepped forward.
Slowly.
A bit awkwardly.
Then—
He wrapped his arms around her.
It wasn't perfect.
He was too small.
Too short.
But he still hugged her.
Tightly.
Lyra froze.
Completely.
For a brief moment—
She didn't react at all.
As if her body had forgotten how.
"…I'm fine," Evan muttered into her clothes.
"…Really."
A pause.
"…You don't have to apologise."
Lyra's hands hovered slightly in the air.
Uncertain.
Then—
Slowly—
They lowered.
Wrapping around him.
Carefully.
Gently.
As if she were afraid he might break.
She pulled him closer.
The movement was soft.
Protective.
Warm.
"…You are far too mature," she said quietly.
Evan huffed lightly.
"…Yeah, I get that a lot,"
he said that said that even though he haven't talked too many people apart from Lyra.
Lyra let out a soft breath.
"…Is that because of the system?"
Evan paused.
Then shrugged slightly against her.
"…Pretty much. Maybe the books help me too?"
Lyra didn't question it further.
She just held him.
For a few seconds—
There was nothing else.
No danger.
No enemies.
No cultivation.
Just—
Silence.
And warmth.
Evan's grip tightened slightly.
Not out of fear.
But something else.
"…It was still scary though," he admitted quietly.
Lyra's hold tightened just a little in response.
"…I know."
"…And the scream…"
His voice lowered.
"…That part was worse."
Lyra closed her eyes briefly.
"…You do not have to force yourself to accept it immediately."
Evan nodded slightly.
"…Yeah."
A pause.
"…But I think I will."
Lyra didn't respond.
But she understood.
Because that was the kind of world they lived in.
One where hesitation could mean death.
One where innocence didn't last.
And one where—
Lessons came at a cost.
She slowly pulled back, just enough to look at him again.
Her hand moved to his head, resting there gently.
"…Then I will make sure," she said quietly, "…that when the time comes…"
A pause.
Her gaze sharpened slightly.
"…You will never be the one lying on the ground."
Evan looked up at her.
Then—
He smiled.
Small.
But real.
"…Good."
Because despite everything—
Despite the fear.
Despite the reality he had just witnessed—
There was one thing he was certain of.
As long as she was there—
He wasn't alone.
And for now—
That was enough.