Reincarnated as an Elf Prince-Chapter 163: remembering

The ledge didn't offer much.

Just a bit of flat ground and less wind. But for Lindarion, it might as well have been a palace floor. His legs weren't shaking yet. That was the important part.

He kept the fire alive in his hand. Steady, quiet. It didn't flicker much. Just pulsed with low heat that brushed against his fingers and drifted outward in soft waves.

Ren didn't say anything. She just sat next to it like she was owed the warmth.

Meren curled around the nearest stone and moaned dramatically. "Tell my parents I froze nobly."

"You don't have parents," Ren muttered.

"Then tell my imaginary ones."

Ardan adjusted his footing near the ledge and scanned the slope like it had offended him personally. Lira stood nearby with her arms crossed. Still and silent, but not tense.

Lindarion stared at the flame. Let it move with his breath.

His thoughts weren't on the snow anymore.

They were back in stone halls and torchlight. They were behind Evernight's high towers and the sharp curve of its walls. That place had felt like a cage sometimes. But it had been his.

He wondered how many of them were still there.

Cassian probably hadn't shut up since the attack. The guy had two modes, loud or unconscious. Lindarion could almost hear his voice echoing down the academy halls, demanding answers from anyone who looked remotely important.

He would have paced. Argued with instructors. Tried to start a student investigation even if it got him detention.

'He probably blamed himself once, too. Idiot.'

Luneth wouldn't have said a word. Not at first.

She would have watched. Listened. Taken inventory of who was still standing and who wasn't. Then she would've started training harder. Sharper. Like violence could make sense of what happened.

She'd pretend it didn't affect her.

But he knew better.

'She would've stayed calm on the outside. Cold as ever. But she'd look at the empty space in sparring and stop for a second.'

The others? Hard to say.

Some might've left after the attack. Parents pulling them out. Nobles whispering about danger and disgrace. The kind of whispers that came from behind too many curtains and too few facts.

But the academy still stood. That meant some stayed.

And those who stayed… they knew.

They all knew he hadn't run.

He'd been taken.

Dragged from the academy the day everything broke. Pulled from the one place that was supposed to be untouchable.

There could be no cover story. No polite lie.

The truth was louder than anything else.

A prince, kidnapped.

An academy breached.

The world was supposed to feel smaller after that. But it hadn't. It had gotten wider. Colder.

And now he was here. With a trail behind him and a longer one ahead.

Meren shifted beside him, groaning as he rolled onto his back. "I'm gonna pretend I'm a snow bear. Just hibernate right here."

Ren scoffed softly. "You're not built for survival."

"I'm built for naps."

Ardan didn't move. Lira glanced once at Lindarion's flame, then back at the slope.

Lindarion let the warmth flicker a little stronger.

Just enough.

He didn't speak.

He didn't need to.

Let the others joke. Let them rest.

He would carry the memory.

And when the time came, he would return to Evernight. Not as someone rescued. Not as someone broken.

But as the one who came back.

—

The air cracked faintly as another spike of frost climbed from Luneth's palm and vanished into the wind. The magic didn't fight her. It rarely did anymore. Ice came when called.

She exhaled, a long, slow breath that ghosted white and thin from her lips before the wind took it.

She was alone. The training field behind the dormitories had long since emptied. No professors. No classmates. Just her and the familiar rhythm of cold pressing against her bones.

She preferred it this way.

No noise. No expectation to speak. No need to explain why she hadn't joined the others in the lounge or walked back inside after dinner like a normal person.

Luneth raised her hand again. A ring of frost spun lazily around her wrist, coalescing into needles that shimmered with the last threads of twilight. She let them hang there. Didn't release them. Didn't need to.

'He would've laughed at how dramatic this looks.'

The thought came uninvited. Like most of them did when the field went quiet.

Lindarion.

She scowled. Not because she was annoyed. Just out of habit.

He had a way of getting into her head even when he wasn't trying. Especially then.

Always too calm. Too observant. Always watching like he already knew what you were about to do and was just politely waiting for you to catch up.

Luneth turned her hand, let the frost scatter into the dirt.

'He wasn't better than me…maybe…'

She wasn't sure who she was trying to convince.

He never said he was the best. Never tried to outshine people. He just… didn't have to. He was the best.

He stood there, quiet and strange, like someone who'd seen the end of the story before anyone else had read the first page.

She hated that.

No. She didn't hate him.

She hated not understanding him.

She hated how she noticed when he wasn't there. How his absence echoed louder than most people's presence.

Luneth crouched, rested her forearms on her knees, and stared at the frost crawling across the stone.

'He'd probably say something stupid if he saw me out here. Something vague and noble. Then leave before I could come up with a good answer.'

Her lips twitched. Almost a smile. Almost.

She missed that, too. The way he never tried to fill the silence with empty noise. He let it sit. Let it breathe. Most people were afraid of that.

She wasn't.

Neither was he.

Maybe that's why it bothered her so much when he was gone.

Luneth traced a line in the frost with her fingertip. The cold didn't bite. It welcomed.

She wasn't sure why she did it.

'He's not dead.'

She told herself that more often than she told herself to breathe.

'He's too stubborn.'

And maybe, just maybe, she wasn't entirely looking forward to the day he came back. Because then she'd have to decide what to say.

And she still didn't know.