the beginning after the end perfect duo

A Nightly Surprise

As the night deepened, a sense of calm settled over the camp. The fire's crackling was the only sound that broke the stillness, and the others slept soundly, their breathing slow and even in the warmth of their bedrolls. But Tom wasn't asleep.

He lay with his eyes open, his body still, but his mind restless. The familiar unease stirred in his chest—a sensation he had learned to trust over the years. Something wasn't right. The air felt too quiet, almost unnatural. He didn't know what it was, but the sensation grew stronger, gnawing at him.

Then, from the corner of his eye, he saw a shadow shift.

Sylvia.

She was rising from her bedroll with the softest of movements, barely a rustle in the dark. Tom's sharp eyes followed her silently, the slight disturbance in the air catching his attention. Her raven-black hair fell around her shoulders, her movements fluid, almost ethereal, as she gathered her things. Her violet eyes, glinting in the dark, glanced once over the camp as she stood, slipping into the night without a sound.

Tom's heart rate picked up, the familiar, unsettling sensation pressing against his chest. The feeling—it was the same as before, the same as when he first laid eyes on Sylvia. Like he had met her before, or known her in some other life. He couldn't place it, but it gnawed at him. There was something about her, something familiar about the way she moved, the way she carried herself. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't remember when or where they had crossed paths. The feeling was buried in the back of his mind, teasing him but always just out of reach.

What is she doing?

A strange, instinctive unease swelled within him. His thoughts turned to Arthur, still asleep beside him, but Tom didn't dare move or speak. He had a suspicion that his brother would've noticed something as well, but for now, it was just him, watching Sylvia slip away.

The cold breeze brushed against Tom's skin, but his focus was solely on Sylvia's movements. She was always a mystery to him, distant and quiet, but this—this wasn't something she had done before. The way she moved, so deliberately, yet with such purpose... It felt like she was preparing for something. Or perhaps, running from something.

He needed to know what she was up to.

His fingers twitched slightly, and without a word, he focused his mind, reaching for one of his golems. A small, silent figure stirred in the darkness, its form shadowed against the trees.

As Sylvia moved further into the woods, Tom's golem followed at a distance, keeping pace with her without being detected. He watched through its eyes, heart racing, trying to understand why she was leaving, why she had to do it so quietly.

Sylvia moved through the Beast Glades with a precision that seemed almost otherworldly. Her long, raven-black hair flowed behind her like a shadow, her pale skin almost glowing in the moonlight. Her deep violet eyes, always intense and perceptive, seemed to pierce the darkness around her as she ventured deeper into the heart of the forest, away from the camp where the others slept.

Tom, awake and watching through the eyes of his golem, frowned. What's she up to now? Sylvia's sudden, silent departure wasn't entirely unexpected, but the urgency in her actions was. She was always mysterious, but tonight there was something else—a sense of purpose that Tom couldn't quite place.

Arthur, who had been feigning sleep next to him, didn't stir, but Tom could feel his brother's awareness, the quiet way he observed without speaking. Tom, however, was focused on Sylvia, his curiosity growing. There was something about the way she carried herself tonight, something off.

Then, without warning, Sylvia leapt into the air—and stayed there. Tom blinked in disbelief. She's flying? His heart skipped. Only white-core mages could fly, and Sylvia—Sylvia was not a white-core mage. What's going on?