The next month and a half passed painfully slow. Saive remained trapped in a deep depression. Guards came and took him away for hours at a time, only to return him bruised, silent, and hollow. He spent his days and nights sleeping or lying motionless, facing the wall. The only sign he was awake came when he sat up to eat in silence. He was eating more now, and the color had begun to return to his skin. His bruises and cuts were healing—only to be replaced with new ones each time he was dragged out. The dark circles under his eyes never faded, and his cheeks were still gaunt. Roenan often caught him in a vacant, trance-like state he called “the ascension”—as if Saive’s soul had fled his body.

Drakke and Roenan had grown closer. Every time the door opened and Drakke walked in, Roenan couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Drakke visited for a couple of hours each day, keeping Roenan active with lessons, light exercise, and jokes. Those moments were the highlight of Roenan’s day—a break from the monotony, and from the black hole of a person lying on the bed in the corner of the room.

One afternoon, as they studied, Roenan caught Drakke staring at Saive. His mouth was slightly open, and his expression was laced with genuine concern.

Roenan glanced over. Saive, for once, was lying on his back, silver eyes unfocused as they bored into the ceiling.

“He’s ascended,” Roenan muttered, turning back to his book.

“He’s dead?” Drakke asked, already gripping the armrests, half-rising from his chair.

“No. He does that sometimes. He’ll come back. Don’t touch him.” Roenan bit the eraser of his pencil, scanning the page. “Nice intonation, by the way.”

“Thanks. I’ve been practicing...” Drakke muttered distantly, his eyes returning to Roenan.

“Hey, Roenan—there are some things I must tell you today.”

Roenan looked up through his lashes. “What’s up?” He asked, while shutting his book.

“They are going to discharge you from hospital tomorrow,” Drakke said gently.

Roenan’s eyes widened. He swallowed, throat suddenly dry. “I see.” It was all he could manage.

“You will be okay,” Drakke said. “I am instructed to escort you to university’s main office. I am positive you are to be enrolled. You will not be in my class—as we are not same age or rank—but it is likely you will start with intensive Vernajjian training.”

Roenan balked. “Drakke, by the time I learn enough Vernajjian, you’ll have graduated, married your friend’s sister, and be raising kids.”

Drakke laughed, but his expression quickly turned serious.

“What...?” Roenan asked, his stomach tightening with dread.

“It is to be hard. Psychological, physical, and linguistic boot camps. It will not be easy.” Drakke placed a hand on Roenan’s arm, squeezing it. “You are to be okay, but it will not be easy.”

“You say that a lot. What does it even mean?”

Drakke pulled his hand away to run it through his hair and across the back of his neck. “It is that I mean... it will be very... hmm, rough." Drakke said finding the word, "But they will not kill you.”

“Oh, well that’s comforting,” Roenan muttered. “Can’t wait.”

“We have all been through it. But for you, I just think—” Drakke hesitated. “I think it is to be harder. Because you’re Jaedan.”

Drakke glanced over and scanned across his face, his brows pulling down curiously.

Roenan studied him. “I know what you're thinking and it's true. I’m half-and-half. My dad was born in Vernajja.”

“I know,” Drakke said, his tone unreadable. He looked like he had something more to say.

Roenan raised an eyebrow. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

"I have something for you." Drakke said, changing the subject. He bent over to pick up a military-style book bag that he had brought. He shuffled his hand around before pulling out a medium-sized bottle and shaking it in his hand with a smirk.

“Alcohol?” Roenan grinned and quickly bent to cover it. “Are you crazy? What about the surveilence? Wouldn't you guys have cameras all over the place here?”

“Do not worry, there are no cameras in this room,” Drakke said with a short laugh. “I only told you as to not be reckless—like him.” He tilted his head toward Saive with a small, apologetic smile.

“You’re a sneaky bastard,” Roenan muttered, snatching the bottle. He examined the foreign label. “Eighty proof. Now that is a language I understand.”

Drakke chuckled. “This is good stuff.”

“It better be. I didn’t tutor you in Jaedan just to be handed a cheap bottle.” Roenan looked up. “Will you drink with me?”

Drakke smirked back. "There are some things I have yet to finish, but I will come back tonight. I will let others know that I will guard tonight to keep eyes on his mental form," He said, pointing at Saive. "It is not lie."

“That won’t get him into trouble, right?” Roenan asked seriously.

“I will give a good report,” Drakke promised.

“Good. I'm not kidding when I say that if anyone messes with him from now on, they're messing with me.”

"I don't wish to mess with you, so I will not mess with him." Drakke responded with a small smile that Roenan returned.

Roenan smirked. “Now go do your chores. I've been so bored here! I’m ready to get drunk.”

Drakke laughed and gathered his things before heading out.

Roenan had gotten into the habbit of walking around the room and doing some exercises after their study-sessions. He was beginning to feel more balanced on his feet. His ribs hardly hurt as much when he moved anymore, but he was still careful to avoid doing anything too strenuous to them.

“You’re a fucking moron.”

Roenan froze, mid-step. He slowly turned toward Saive, eyes wide.

“What did you say to me?” he asked sharply.

“You heard me. That guy’s playing you like a fiddle, and you don’t even see it.” Saive’s voice was bitter and sharp.

Roenan stared at him blankly.

“He guards you. Reports on you. He’s already started brainwashing you into becoming a fucking Vernajjian.” Saive's chest was heaving up and down as he stared at Roenan.

The air in the room had become so tense you could cut it.

"Saive, I'm almost positive he's not like that. I really think he's different from the others." Roenan said patiently.

Saive ran his hands down over his normally-handsome face before throwing them out in front of him in exasperation,“You haven’t met the others! You’ve only interacted with him. He’s no different than them! You're an absolute idot - I have no words!”

Roenan’s patience snapped. “You know what, Saive? I'm seriously getting sick of you and your shitty attitude. I don't know what they did to you out there," Roenan said as he threw his hand out to indicate the door, "and I'm sure it has been pretty fucking horrible, but you can go right back to your wallowing and stay the hell out of my business!”

Saive’s tone softened. “Did you even mean what you said?”

Roenan blinked. “Yes! I'm sick of your shit - stay out of my business.”

“Not that, the other night. To me.”

"What? About me having your back?" Roenan asked. He assumed that had to be it since they hadn't exchanged any words since then before now. "Of course I meant that."

“Good. Then prove it. End whatever it is that you have going on with him.”

“Don’t talk to me right now,” Roenan muttered. He hated the seed of doubt Saive was planting. Roenan knew Drakke more than Saive, after all. He thought it was smart to have a good relationship with someone on the inside, but he wasn't able to choke back the nerves that Saive's words had brought on him. He really wanted to believe he'd have someone, of Drakke's standing, to watch out for him after he was discharged.

Saive gave an incredulous laugh as if he just realized something, “Gods… have you actually fallen for him?”

The blood drained from Roenan’s face. His body moved before his mind caught up. He shoved Saive, with enough force, that he slammed back into the wall. He slowly slid down to the floor and caught himself. When Roenan looked down at this face, it looked as if he was slipping in and out his ascension and he was tyring to resist it from taking control.

"Shit, sorry." Roenan panicked, taking a step toward Saive to try to help him up.

Saive threw out his palm to stop him. “Why won’t you stop touching me?!” He rasped.

"I said I was sorry." Roenan took a step back again. "What did this to you?" 

Saive looked up at him, calmer than Roenan expected.

Roenan shifted on his feet. “Obviously, I was going to help you up but...”

Saive sighed, and pushed himself up from the floor. He dusted off his sides, "What I said upset you. I'm... sorry too."

Roenan shivered, swallowing hard. 

“You know...for the record, I haven't fallen for him." He climbed back into his bed, feeling his face go a little warm.

Saive didn't say anything in response as he climbed back into his own bed. After a while he finally spoke.

“I'm going to give you some quick advice as one prisoner to another. I can't force you to take it, but listen to me and listen well. Go ahead and have your fun tonight, but cut this shit off with him before you land yourself into a place of no return. I don't want..." Saive's voice broke off and he cleared his throat," I don't want you see you to end up like me.

Roenan was quiet for a long moment as those words sunk in.

“Saive, how long have you been here?” He finally asked.

There was a long pause of silence and Roenan figured he wasn't going to answer. He turned to begin adjusting his pillow when Saive broke his silence.

“A while.” He said, quietly.

Roenan didn't ask him to elaborate. Saive had rolled back onto his side and faced the wall, indicating that he was he was done with the conversation. 

Roenan, too, lay back down in bed and turned to face away from Saive. Thoughts began bombarding his head in a swirl of chaos as he drifted off into another restless sleep.