The island remained as peaceful as ever. Just as before, Sylvia showed Deculein her world—her paintings, her sketches, and drew his portrait. They walked together, and in the golden hush of evening, they ended the day with dinner.0

Deculein cut her venson steak for her, poured red wine without a drop misplaced, and raised the glass with effortless elegance. Sylvia took in everything—his rhythm, his manner, his voice—committing it to memory, frame by frame.0

"You cannot find meaning in a life that hides from reality."0

Of course, Deculein spoke the way he did, no different from the man she’d drawn on canvas just yesterday. But something about it felt too real, stirring her anger, and beneath it, something softer. Sylvia could still see herself in the mage tower, smaller then, a young mage who clung to his words and called it learning when it was already something more.0

“Be it tomorrow or the day after, I’ll be back when you’re ready. This journey won’t take long,” Deculein concluded.0

Deculein turned and left the restaurant; however, Sylvia didn’t reach for him, as...0