The temperature dropped the moment the sun set.
It was 5 p.m., the orange hour. The entire city turned amber rooftops, stone roads, market banners, even the air itself seemed warm with fading light. Clouds filled the sky, thick and unmoving. Not a single bird crossed above.
Iremiel and Eliora stood waiting at the market gate.
Kalderon was never late. Not once. And today… no one knew why.
Students began passing by in groups, returning home from evening lessons. A few slowed when they noticed them standing still for so long. Familiar faces from school. Some curious, some amused.
And then a smaller group walked past.
They didn't laugh.
They didn't say a word.
But they looked directly at Iremiel.
The same boys who used to shove his books, block his path, whisper just loud enough for him to hear. They were boys from his previous school. Ones who stopped only after Eliora started walking beside him every day.
They paused for a moment near the gate, exchanging glances before continuing on.
Iremiel's shoulders stiffened. His fingers curled into his sleeve.
"Eliora… let's go home," he muttered. "Maybe he's busy."
She didn't move. Her eyes stayed on the road beyond the gate.
"No. He'll come. Just wait."
More students passed. Some turned back to look again. The longer they stood there, the more obvious it became.
"We can come another day," he insisted quietly. "Please."
But Eliora remained firm. "He will come."
Time stretched. The orange light faded into deeper gold, then into dull evening tones. The crowd changed, vendors packing, new people entering. And after almost two hours…
Kalderon appeared.
He walked slowly toward them.
Bruises covered his face. His lip was split. Dust clung to his clothes.
Iremiel froze ....then ran to him immediately.
But Eliora didn't react the same way. She approached at a normal pace and said flatly,
"So… your brother again?"
Kalderon rolled his eyes. "Let's go inside."
Iremiel's chest tightened. His voice shook.
"You're hurt. We need a doctor."
"I'm fine."
He tried to step past them, but Iremiel grabbed his sleeve.
"You're not fine!"
Kalderon pulled free gently but firmly.
So he turned to Eliora instead....his last hope. If anyone could fix this instantly, it was her. The strongest at their age. An S-rank magician
"Eli… please heal him."
She looked at him without sympathy.
"Why should I? He's not a baby. Men should deal with their own pain."
Then she started walking toward the market.
Iremiel hurried after her. "It's just one spell!
Do you want him to be like this for a whole week?
What if it leaves scars? He'll look ugly!"
She stopped.
Then laughed.
"You're right. We can't walk around with an ugly man."
Kalderon sighed behind them.
"I'll remove the wounds," she continued casually. "But the pain stays."
That wasn't what Iremiel wanted but arguing with her never worked.
She turned and beckoned lazily.
"Hey. Come here."
Kalderon walked toward her slowly, his steps small.
Her expression hardened.
"Move faster, idiot, or I'll change my mind."
He walked a little quicker.
She placed a finger against his forehead and closed her eyes.
"The wound disappeared."
The bruises faded. The cut sealed. Skin returned to normal as if nothing had happened.
Iremiel smiled in relief.
But the relief didn't last.
Kalderon's shoulders were still tense. His breathing still heavy.
The injuries were gone.
The pain wasn't.
And Iremiel knew it.