The moonlight spilled across the deck in thin silver ribbons, catching faintly on Valen’s polished staff. For a moment, neither he nor Harold spoke.

  Then Harold glanced sideways, his voice quieter than usual.

  "How’s Sarah?"

  Valen blinked.

  Not from offense, just surprise.

  He tilted his head slightly. "You asking because of the mission reports… or because you finally remembered she’s a person?"

  Harold looked away briefly. "She’s… always clear. Always direct. But this year she sounded tired."

  A long silence passed between them, broken only by the hum of the ship’s mana core.

  Valen studied the younger man. In ten years, Harold had grown from a frightened, shattered boy into one of Argaryx’s most dependable field operatives. Efficient. Controlled. Relentlessly disciplined.

  But rarely personal.

  Rarely curious about others.

  Valen gave a slow nod, something warm and knowing behind his eyes. "Sarah’s fine. Tougher than me, really. But it’s been a hard year, one of our senior analysts defected. She’s been patching holes across two departments and still running your field logistics."

  Harold looked down, thumbs brushing the edge of his utility belt.

  "She doesn’t say any of that."

  "No," Valen said, smiling faintly, "because she’s a Noir. And Noirs don’t complain, they calculate."

  Another pause.

  Harold nodded once. "Tell her she doesn’t have to handle it all alone."

  Valen raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised again, but this time he didn’t comment. He simply gave a slight smile and patted Harold’s shoulder again.

  "I’ll tell her."

  A month later

  —Leoric’s Point Island – Argaryx Corp Medical Wing—

  [Valen Noir’s Private Quarters]

  The room was dimly lit, soft blue runes lining the ceiling to keep a balanced mana flow. A subtle hum filled the air, magical life support woven into stone, steel, and spirit. Valen lay resting on a firm bed, propped up with a blanket over his chest and a soft glow emanating from the crystal infusion tubes at his side.

  Harold stood in the doorway for a moment, watching.

  Sarah was already there, seated beside her father, a small open ledger resting in her lap. Her long black hair was tied back, and even in this quiet space, she looked alert, like she was trying not to look worried.

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  Valen noticed Harold first and gave a tired, crooked smile.

  "You actually showed up. Didn’t expect the grim soldier to make time for sick old men."

  Harold walked in, stopping near the foot of the bed. He kept his tone dry. "I had an opening in my schedule."

  Sarah glanced up, visibly surprised. "You’re early. I didn’t think you'd—"

  "I heard it was your off-shift," Harold said, cutting gently. Then, after a pause, "Wanted to check on you both."

  Valen gave a low chuckle, followed by a soft cough. "You’re turning soft, boy. That sacred night did something to you."

  Sarah looked between the two of them, eyebrows raised slightly. "That... almost sounded like care."

  Harold’s expression didn’t shift much, but his eyes flicked to Valen. "You’ve looked better."

  "Mm. Lungs are failing," Valen admitted without drama. "Residual from that last mission I took on the Ezhan border. Took a decade to show. Figures."

  Sarah frowned but didn’t interrupt. She’d heard him say it before, but not in front of someone else.

  Harold stepped closer, eyes locked on Valen. "There anything I can do?"

  Valen’s face softened, not from pity, but from something quieter. Pride.

  "Keep doing what you’re doing. Protect people. Train harder. And…" He shifted his gaze to Sarah, then back to Harold, "Stay human."

  The silence hung for a second longer than it should have.

  Then Sarah stood, closed her ledger, and said softly, "I’ll get some tea."

  She left the room, the door whispering shut behind her.

  Harold remained still for a moment. "You’re not afraid."

  Valen smiled, this time a bit slower. "No. I’ve lived. I’ve fought. I saved a boy once in Deya Woods who would one day become something better than me. I’m good with that."

  Harold looked away briefly, then back. "You were the first reason I didn’t give up."

  'I know," Valen said. "Now be someone else's reason."

  Valen coughed lightly, his breathing a bit more strained than earlier. The mana glow near his chest dimmed slightly as he turned toward Sarah.

  "Sarah, could you get me some water? There’s that herbal mix the clerics left on second cabinet."

  Sarah looked hesitant. "You sure? I can call someone else—"

  Valen shook his head with a small, tired smile. "No, I want your mix. You do it right."

  She narrowed her eyes, suspicious. "You’re not just trying to—"

  "Go," he interrupted gently, but firmly.

  After a beat, she sighed, rose, and left the room. The door clicked quietly behind her.

  Silence settled.

  Valen turned his head to Harold, expression steady but serious.

  "She doesn’t know yet."

  Harold looked down, then met his eyes. "How long?"

  Valen exhaled slowly. "Weeks. Maybe two months if I stay off my feet. Doesn’t matter." He gripped the blanket lightly with a trembling hand. "What matters is… her."

  He leaned slightly forward, eyes locked on Harold’s, heavy with meaning.

  "Promise me something."

  Harold’s jaw clenched slightly, but he nodded.

  Valen’s voice dropped, but every word landed like iron.

  "Take care of Sarah."

  "She’s brilliant... but she works too hard, too fast, too alone."

  "She’ll burn herself out trying to live up to me."

  Harold stayed quiet for a moment, the words sinking deep.

  Then, with a breath drawn steady through his nose, he spoke.

  "I promise."

  Valen’s shoulders relaxed slightly. The kind of relief that only comes from handing over something sacred.

  "Good," he said, his voice fainter now. "You’re the only one I trust not to let her fade behind her own fire."

  A quiet knock sounded on the door, and Sarah stepped back in, holding a small cup filled with gently steaming herbal water.

  Harold stepped aside without a word as she returned to her father’s side.

  Valen took the cup, smiling faintly. See? Told you. Perfect."

  Weeks Later

  —Leoric’s Point Island – Garden of the Moon, Memorial Courtyard—

  A gentle breeze rustled through the silverleaf trees lining the sacred courtyard. The moon hung high, full and clear, casting soft luminescence over the obsidian memorial stone.

  Etched into its polished surface were the words : (VALEN NOIR

  Knight Commander of Argaryx Corp

  Loyal Servant of Leoric – Protector of Light and Shadow

  “Steel in heart, light in hand.”

  Age 68– Returned to the Creator, 2000 Z.C.)

  Harold stood silently before the monument, clad in his full uniform, Soul crystal dimly glowing at his hip. He didn’t wear mourning black, Argaryx warriors wore silver at funerals, to honor those who "returned to the Moon."

  Behind him, a soft set of footsteps approached.Sarah.

  She wore her formal analyst's coat buttoned high, a white armband pinned to her sleeve. Her hair was tied tighter than usual, no strands out of place. Her face was blank.

  Too blank.

  She came to stand beside him, keeping her eyes on the stone.

  For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

  Then she said softly, "I found the letter he left me. Told me not to cry… that’s a command, apparently."

  Harold glanced toward her. "Did you obey it?"

  Her jaw tightened. "Of course not." A brief silence.

  Then Harold said, just above a whisper:

  "He asked me to look after you."

  Sarah blinked and turned to face him, eyes slightly wide. "He… told you that?"

  Harold nodded. "He knew you’d try to carry too much. Alone."

  She looked down, her voice suddenly thin. "I don’t know how to not."

  Harold said nothing. Then, simply.

  "You don’t have to."

  Sarah looked at him again. Really looked.

  Not the cold, precise reports. Not the relentless field updates. But Harold, the boy from Deya, the man her father trusted.

  She exhaled slowly.

  "…Then don’t vanish on your next mission."

  Harold gave a small, rare smile.

  "Only if you promise to sleep more than four hours a night."

  Sarah managed a weak laugh, brushing at her eye before turning away. "Deal… idiot."

  Together, they stood in silence, two legacies of the same man, now tasked with carrying forward what he left behind.