Whispers of Worlds Beyond: A Series

Over the next few days, Aiden noticed a few strange changes around him, and perhaps one of the most surprising was Shiloh.

The boy who had once thrown bomb cards at him, who mocked him at every opportunity, now seemed… restrained. That didn't mean Shiloh had turned into a saint overnight- far from it- but his usual snide remarks were significantly toned down. Instead of outright insults, Shiloh settled for dry, sarcastic comments that, compared to his past behavior, almost felt mild.

Still, the way Shiloh looked at Aiden hadn't changed. There was always that glint of disdain in his eyes whenever they crossed paths, that simmering resentment just beneath the surface. Yet somehow, Shiloh kept himself in check, like there was an invisible line he refused to cross now.

The first time it happened was during an afternoon lecture when Professor Ylang-Ylang had asked a difficult question. Aiden, who had been quietly trying to follow along from his seat near the window, didn't notice that most of the class had turned to look at him. Shiloh, sitting a few rows back, had made a noise in his throat- a sound that would usually precede a sharp jab at Aiden's intelligence.

But instead, Shiloh only muttered under his breath, "Figures," and looked away, drumming his fingers on the desk in clear frustration.

Aiden caught the exchange, his brows furrowing slightly.

Adrian, who was sitting beside him, leaned in and whispered with a grin, "He's trying so hard not to get kicked again. It's actually painful to watch."

Even Rupert had noticed, nudging Jarek and making a low comment about how Shiloh was "on his best behavior like a dog after getting smacked with a newspaper." They laughed, though it was a cautious laugh- the entire class seemed to know that while Shiloh wasn't overtly bullying anymore, the tension hadn't truly disappeared. It merely hung there, waiting.

Later that evening, as Aiden was leaving the Great Hall- well, floating slowly beside Adrian and Sevan- Shiloh passed by.

For a moment, it looked like Shiloh was going to say something nasty, his mouth twitching into a sneer. But then he caught sight of the wheelchair, the lingering signs of bruises along Aiden's arms, and the way Adrian was still hovering protectively nearby. Shiloh's expression faltered, and all he said was a very clipped, almost bitter, "Tch. Don't get used to the sympathy, Chase."

And then he was gone.

Adrian snorted loudly, not even bothering to lower his voice. "Wow. He really is trying. That's the nicest insult he's ever given you."

Sevan shook his head. "Pity doesn't suit him."

Aiden just rolled his eyes and kept floating forward, choosing to save his energy for things that actually mattered.

That night, when the halls fell into silence and the castle seemed to sigh into slumber, Aiden sat upright in his bed, staring at the faint slivers of moonlight cutting across the infirmary ceiling. The world around him slept- Adrian snoring softly in the cot they had stubbornly dragged next to his, Sevan muttering under his breath as he shifted in his sleep. Yet Aiden remained wide awake, the quiet buzzing in his chest telling him tonight was the right time.

He knew Emmeranne. If there was ever a time she'd slip out, it would be now.

Slowly, Aiden pulled off the blanket, wincing slightly as he set his feet on the ground. He could walk now, though not nearly as fast as before but he refused to let that stop him.

Moving carefully, he leaned over Adrian's leather jacket draped over the chair and rummaged through the inner pockets until his fingers closed around the familiar parchment: the enchanted map Lopt had given them.

He pulled it out with a small triumphant smile, the paper still humming faintly with magic, and tucked it under his arm.

Before leaving, he paused by the small bedside table and scribbled a quick letter just in case.

"Went to look for Emmeranne. Will be fine. Don't panic."

He thought about adding "Seriously, don't panic," but decided against it. Adrian would panic either way.

Carefully, he left the note between Sevan's half-opened book, knowing at least Sevan would find it before Adrian freaked out.

With that, he crept toward the infirmary doors, easing them open with a skill he hadn't lost despite the weeks of being bedridden. The hallway outside was bathed in silver and blue, the moonlight pooling along the stone floor. His legs ached with every step, but determination pushed him forward. He clutched the map tightly, ready to navigate if needed.

But as he turned the first corner, he stopped.

There, in the dim light of the common room, sat Emmeranne.

She was curled up on one of the oversized chairs, her knees drawn to her chest, staring quietly into the dying embers of the fireplace. The flames were low, nothing more than soft glows in the darkness, flickering across her pale face and making the shadows under her eyes look even deeper.

For a moment, Aiden just stood there, heart hammering against his ribs, the map in his hand crumpling slightly from how tightly he was gripping it.

Quietly, he slid the map into his pocket and stepped forward, the faintest shuffle of his feet alerting Emmeranne to his presence.

She turned, and for a moment, her dark eyes widened slightly in surprise.

Aiden gave her a small, almost sheepish smile. "I, uh… left a note so Adrian and Sevan wouldn't think I got kidnapped," he said softly, the words awkward but sincere.

Emmeranne blinked once, slowly, then- in the barest, smallest way- her lips twitched upward. A shadow of a smile. Gone as quickly as it came, but Aiden caught it, and it gave him the courage to walk closer.

He wasn't sure what he was going to say yet. Maybe he didn't have to say anything right away.

So, without asking, without needing permission, he slowly lowered himself onto the chair across from her, hissing quietly under his breath as his healing body protested the movement.

For a long moment, they sat there, just the two of themz

For a few heartbeats, neither of them spoke, letting the silence stretch between them. The fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting long shadows across the common room.

Emmeranne was the first to break it.

Her voice was as cold and flat as always, but there was a roughness underneath it, a tiredness Aiden didn't miss.

"Why are you awake? And walking around when you still have broken bones?"

Aiden couldn't help the huff of air that escaped him- half laugh, half groan as he shifted more comfortably in his seat.

"I could ask you the same thing," he shot back, tilting his head slightly, "seeing as you almost died too."

At that, Emmeranne finally looked at him fully, her dark eyes locking onto his. For a moment, something flickered across her face- something like… guilt? Frustration? It was gone before he could name it. She leaned back into her chair, her arms loosely folded over her knees.

"I'm not that weak like you. I can handle it."

But Aiden saw it.

Her hands, clasped together at her knees, were trembling slightly. Not enough for most people to notice. Not enough for someone who wanted to be left alone. But enough for someone who knew what it was like to pretend you weren't breaking.

He didn't say anything about it. Didn't point it out. Didn't insult her pride by offering pity.

Instead, he leaned back in his chair, wincing slightly as the still-mending bruises across his ribs pulled tight, and said casually, "Yeah. Me too."

Emmeranne glanced at him, her expression unreadable.

After a few more minutes of sitting there, just listening to the fire crack and pop, Aiden turned his head toward her again.

"Why are you ignoring everyone?" he asked.

Emmeranne didn't look at him. Her gaze stayed locked on the fire, her face illuminated by the soft, golden glow. For a long moment, Aiden thought she wouldn't answer at all. That she would just sit there and pretend she didn't hear him, the way she pretended everything else didn't get to her.

But then, she shifted slightly, her fingers tightening against her knees before she finally spoke.

"I'm not," she said stiffly.

Aiden let out a soft snort. It hurt his ribs, but he didn't regret it.

"You kind of are," he said. "Everyone's noticed. Even Jarek. And he notices nothing unless it's food or a fight."

Emmeranne stayed silent, but Aiden saw her jaw tense.

He pressed a little further, gently, like nudging a bird that looked ready to fly away at any sudden movement.

"They're just worried, you know," he said. "It's not like they're blaming you."

At that, Emmeranne finally turned to face him.

"They're guilty," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Not worried. Guilty."

Aiden blinked.

"Because they thought you were capable of something you weren't?" he asked.

Emmeranne didn't answer.

She didn't need to.

The way she stared into the flames, her shoulders rigid, said enough.

Aiden leaned back against his chair, exhaling slowly through his nose.

"Maybe they are," he said. "But that doesn't mean you have to go through all this alone."

Another beat of silence. Then Emmeranne said, almost too softly to hear:

"I don't mind."

Aiden watched her for a moment, seeing right through the walls she was building around herself. He understood it. The need to be strong. The fear of being seen as weak.

"Maybe you don't," he said after a moment. "But it's a lot harder when you don't have someone around."