Maya rested quietly against Noah's chest, her breathing slow and steady.
She had been keeping vigil for hours, worrying endlessly, until her body could no longer fight the exhaustion.
She had fallen asleep without even realizing it.
The night passed in silence, the infirmary dimly lit by a single lamp in the corner.
The doctor had long since left, leaving her alone with the body of Noah—the boy she had promised to protect.
Yet, there he lay. No pulse. No breath. No mana flow detectable.
Even the doctor confirmed it—he was gone.
As she slept, tears stained her cheeks, her subconscious unable to let go of the guilt.
She had been so determined, so sure she could protect him.
Now, she faced the unbearable task of explaining to Noah's father how she had failed.
How the boy entrusted to her care had slipped through her fingers.
Suddenly, in the stillness of the night, Noah coughed.
His eyes fluttered open, the weight of his return from the expanse hitting him slowly.
He blinked, adjusting to the dim light, and gingerly touched the sides of his head where there had once been gaping holes.
The light bullet that had tunneled through his skull had vanished.
He was whole again.
The pain was gone, though an echo of it remained, lingering in the distance like a faint migraine.
His eyes drifted down, and he froze at the sight before him.
There, on his chest, was Maya, her purple hair spilling over his shirt, her soft breaths brushing against his skin as she slept.
Noah's lips curved into a small smile.
He didn't want to wake her—not yet.
Slowly, carefully, he sat up, making sure not to disturb her too much.
His hand found its way to her hair, gently brushing it as though calming a small, delicate creature.
She reminded him of a kitten, curled up so peacefully on him.
Despite everything she had been through, despite her exhaustion and being overworked, she was still here.
By his side.
"She didn't leave," Noah murmured to himself, his hand moving through her soft strands.
"I'm here, Maya. I'm not going anywhere."
Maya's tears fell silently, and she smiled, though her exhaustion was evident.
Her body was heavy, her mind clouded, but now that Noah was awake, she could finally let herself relax.
"Good..." she whispered, letting out a shaky breath.
"That's good..."
Slowly, Maya gave in to her sleepiness again, laying back down on Noah's chest, her breathing evening out once more as she drifted off into peaceful slumber.
Noah continued to stroke her hair, watching her sleep, the weight of the moment heavy in his chest.
He leaned down and kissed the top of her head, his lips brushing against her soft purple strands.
"Sweet dreams," he whispered, his voice barely audible.
He knew—deep down—that this would be the last time she would sleep like this.
So peacefully. So free of worry.
He could feel the storm brewing on the horizon, the inevitable trials they would both face.
But for now, just for this moment, he let her rest, safe and warm in his arms.
***
Amy leaned against the cold stone wall just outside the infirmary, her arms crossed as she quietly listened to the muffled voices coming from within the room.
She wasn't supposed to be there, but she needed to know if Noah had pulled through.
Relief washed over her as she overheard the gentle exchanges between Maya and Noah.
He's alive.
For now, that was enough.
But Maya's words had haunted her.
Maya, despite her normally gentle demeanor, had refused to let her enter the room, her eyes cold and unyielding.
And Amy couldn't shake the image of Maya's rage from earlier when she had been caught inside Noah's room.
The memory replayed vividly in Amy's mind.
When Maya had found her, her reaction had been instant and violent.
She had lunged at Amy, assuming she was the one responsible for Noah's condition, her eyes filled with something far darker than anger.
If it weren't for Draven's intervention, Amy was certain Maya would've killed her on the spot.
Amy shivered at the thought, unconsciously rubbing her arms to ward off the chill creeping into her bones.