Chapter Text
.-.-.-.-.-.-.
“Hey, Haitham,”
Startled by the sudden break in their study, Alhaitham lifted his gaze from the dense script in front of him, his sharp eyes meeting Kaveh’s with a hint of surprise.
“What do you think happens after we die?” he asked calmly.
Alhaitham blinked twice, still processing the sudden question.
The intensity of the blonde’s stare made him a bit nervous, and his crimson eyes pierced him, inquisitive, as if he were probing the depths of some unseen thought.
Moving his fingers to hold the page of the book he’d been reading, Alhaitham glanced ahead, eyes narrowing slightly, as he considered his response.
“I don’t know,” he finally replied, his voice steady, analytical. “There are countless theories about the afterlife, dressed in the robes of belief or speculation, but none of them offer a verifiable truth.” His gaze returned to Kaveh, only to find his friend’s brow furrowed in dissatisfaction.
“But you must believe in something , at least.”
The blonde’s tone carried a touch of impatience, though it was softened by the plea for honesty that always lay beneath most of his words.
Alhaitham shifted his focus away, letting his eyes trace the uneven line of roots that reached up like fingers from the forest floor.
“Why dwell on questions with no answers? If you ask me, death is simply the end of everything,” He stated. “Once the brain shuts down, the body follows, and our thoughts, emotions—everything that makes us who we are—cease to exist. All that remains is an empty shell, no different from any lifeless object.”
Kaveh’s lips tightened into a thin line, the discontent in his eyes unmistakable.
Drawing his knees close to his chest, he rested his chin atop them, the soft fall of his golden hair cascading over his shoulder with a weight that made him sigh.
Alhaitham observed him quietly, choosing not to press further.
They sat next to each other in silence, in the way they always did. Ancient trees, towering with the wisdom of centuries, bent their branches as if listening to the musings of the two young scholars.
Kaveh was the one who had discovered this place, when he was exploring wild species with Tighnari. Now, you could say that it was their “secret place”, as the blonde liked to call it.
Alhaitham was not a fan of being outdoors, but he did appreciate the silence it provided.
There were several times when they ended up spending hours in that small cave, in the middle of nowhere, studying and talking. Enjoying each other's company.
In that small place, it was just the two of them.
“That’s... bleak,” Kaveh muttered minutes later, his voice carrying a childlike discontent.
Alhaitham watched him for a heartbeat longer before turning back to his book. He had never understood the fascination with unanswerable questions. They were distractions, clouds of doubt that muddied the clarity he so valued.
“It’s just the natural order,” he said, with a detachment that felt almost cold. “Every living thing meets its end. It’s pointless to expect anything beyond that, and if there is more, it holds no interest for me.”
“So rigid.” Kaveh exhaled loudly, almost a huff. “What about the soul? What happens to our souls when we die?”
“It likely vanishes with the body,” Alhaitham said, unbothered by the notion. “But It's not like you can prove Its existence, so we’re back to where we started—speculating without end.”
A brief silence fell over them again, but this time it was filled with something more contemplative. The kind of quiet that lingers when one is suspended between certainty and doubt, marked by the gentle rustle of leaves and the distant trill of birds, oblivious to the scholars below.
Kaveh’s eyes shifted to the sunlit patches on the ground, his fingers absentmindedly tracing circles in the soft earth. He spoke again, but now his tone was almost wistful.
“I think you vision is too pessimistic. If we simply vanish, then how do you explain Irminsul? The roots of all memory, the threads of knowledge... Wouldn’t that mean something of us stays, even if it’s only a fragment?”
Alhaitham turned to watch Kaveh move, the blond’s expression determined as he shifted to sit in front of him, effectively blocking the pages of his book.
“The world without knowledge would be barren,” he continued, pressing his hands into the cool grass, letting it slip between his fingers like threads of fate. “Our experiences, our emotions, they matter. Even if we’re just one story in a library as vast as Irminsul, isn’t that something? Isn’t there beauty in leaving a part of yourself behind?”
Alhaitham’s gaze held steady, unreadable as he tilted his head slightly. “If that were true, what would it mean to you? Do you plan to etch your name in history, senior?”
The question seemed to take Kaveh by surprise, a slight flush coloring his cheeks as he let out a sheepish laugh. “Of course! One day, I’ll be known as the greatest architect in all of Teyvat. My designs will stand for generations.” He beamed, the light catching in his eyes with a gleam as vivid as the sun’s touch on a clear stream.
A faint smile, so subtle it barely curled his lips, appeared on Alhaitham’s face. “The celebrated architect of Kshahrewar, no doubt.”
“Don’t mock me,” Kaveh scolded, his eyes narrowing playfully. “I’m serious. I want to do more than just exist, Alhaitham. I want to leave behind something meaningful. I think... Maybe if I do that, then a part of me will remain connected to this world, and they’ll remember me.”
Alhaitham’s gaze dropped to his book, the words on the page blurring into a sea of ink as Kaveh’s voice echoed in his mind.
To avoid being forgotten. He couldn’t quite decide if it was an admirable pursuit or a futile one.
“Is your desire to be remembered driven by ambition,” he asked, “or by fear?”
It seemed like his question struck a chord, and Kaveh’s breath stopped abruptly, as if he had been unprepared for such precision.
“I-I’m not afraid, not really.” He stumbled over his response. “But I really think... there should be something that stays, that survives beyond us.”
“If you say so.” Alhaitham turned the page of his book, and continued his reading.
Seconds stretched into minutes, the forest around them whispering forgotten tales.
Kaveh, never one to stay quiet for too long, scooted closer, a mischievous glint replacing the previous seriousness. He reached out and tugged lightly at a strand of Alhaitham’s hair, trying to coax him out of his silent contemplation.
“Hey, Haitham,” he repeated, a grin beginning to break through the somber air. “Have you heard the story of the Paradisaea?”
His voice, gentle yet eager, cut through the calm once again, drawing Alhaitham's attention away from the text before him. With a practiced sigh, he marked his place in the book and looked up, his eyes a stormy mix of curiosity and exasperation.
“You mean the flower?” he asked, brows lifting in faint confusion.
“No, no! Not the Padisarah. I’m talking about the bird—Paradisaea. Haven’t you heard of it?” Kaveh leaned forward, eyes alight with the fervor of a storyteller, his hands already gesturing as if he were painting the tale in the air itself.
A frown deepened on Alhaitham’s brow as he searched through his vast repertoire of knowledge for a mention of such a creature, only to come up empty. “...I don’t believe a bird like that exists in Sumeru. Are you sure that’s its name?”
“Yes, that’s the name! But it’s not something you’d find in any of your dusty books. It’s a mythical story,” The boy clarified, his grin broadening as Alhaitham’s gaze narrowed with interest. There was always a glimmer of triumph in Kaveh’s eyes when he managed to catch his friend unaware, a small victory in their endless intellectual sparring.
“I remembered it just yesterday! My father told me the story long ago, and I found the tale on a shelf.”
The blonde’s excitement quickly spilled over, making him shuffle around for the sketchbook he had set aside earlier.
The rustle of paper and the shuffling of grass accompanied his search until he triumphantly found the page he sought. He placed it on Alhaitham’s closed book, pressing it down so it wouldn’t flutter away in the breeze.
Alhaitham's eyes fell to the drawing. Kaveh had sketched a bird unlike any he’d seen, its plumage detailed with sweeping feathers that shimmered even on paper, evoking an iridescent cascade of golds and blues. A crest adorned its head, delicate yet regal, and its wings, poised mid-flight, seemed to carry a presence that defied simple avian nature.
“It’s said that this bird once roamed the skies, a hundred of years ago,” Kaveh began, his voice mellowing as he sank into the rhythm of storytelling. “They called it the Huma bird. Divine, mysterious, neither wholly male nor female. It had the power to bestow kingship to anyone it passed over, a creature of immense beauty and fierce sovereignty. But it could never be caught alive.” He made a dramatic pause. “if one did manage to kill it, they’d be doomed to die within forty days.”
Alhaitham's expression remained stoic, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of curiosity. “A creature of blessings and curses, then.”
Kaveh nodded, his smile unwavering. “Exactly! And, like a phoenix, it was said to be reborn in flames every five hundred years. It represented immortality, hope, and the cycle of life. Isn’t that incredible?”
Alhaitham stared at his golden hair, shimmering in the beams of sunlight that pierced through the leaves, a radiant contrast to the emerald shadows of their secluded hideaway.
The corner of his lips quirked up in a near imperceptible way, a fleeting expression Kaveh cherished each time it appeared. “Incredible, perhaps, but rooted in mythology. I fail to see how it relates to our reality.”
Kaveh clicked his tongue, feigning annoyance. “You’re hopelessly pragmatic, you know that?” He leaned back, fingers drumming on his knees as if mimicking the soft thrum of the bird’s wings. “But here’s the part I love most—The tale said that those blessed by this bird could see it in their dreams. And just a shadow of it was enough to bring lifelong joy. If your soul was truly blessed, it would reincarnate, destined to encounter the bird again.”
He paused, as if lost in his own thoughts, and Alhaitham glanced at him again, taking in the way the sun played on the blonde’s face, accentuating the softness of his features now lost in reverie.
“So, is this why you’re so obsessed with what happens after death?” Alhaitham asked, his voice colored with an exasperated sigh. “Kaveh, it’s a tale. Reincarnation is not something that can be proven or considered probable for us mere mortals.”
“That’s why it’s called a blessing , dummy,” Kaveh shot back, pouting. He crossed his arms and averted his gaze, his irritation a mask for the tremor of vulnerability that slipped through. “I know it’s just a story, but still…”
His silence was palpable, filled with unspoken sentiments. Kaveh’s fingers toyed nervously with the edge of his sketchbook, his eyes fixed on a spot just beyond the entrance of their leafy sanctuary.
“If we could reincarnate, I wouldn’t forget you,” he said, voice softening to a whisper. “The thought of finding you again someday, somewhere—it makes me… happy. Doesn’t it make you feel that way too?”
The sincerity in his words struck Alhaitham, silencing any sly retort that rose in his mind. For a moment, all he could do was look at the architect, whose cheeks now carried the faintest blush.
“... Maybe.” he replied, bluntly.
Kaveh’s gaze remained stubbornly elsewhere, avoiding the intensity in Alhaitham’s expression.
Finally, the blonde stood abruptly, stopping his thoughts as he reached for his sketchbook, folding it tightly against his chest and reclaiming his spot by Alhaitham’s side.
“You probably think I’m childish, believing in old stories,” he muttered, trying to sound dismissive as he began sketching anew, eyes downcast but lips curving with a hint of embarrassment. “Your dull, grey world holds no allure for me, anyway.”
Alhaitham’s gaze softened, tracing the lines of Kaveh’s determined profile, noting the way his lashes fluttered in concentration and the bashful color still touching his cheeks.
A rare warmth bloomed in his chest, gentle and unexpected.
“My world isn’t as grey as you think,” he murmured, more to himself than to the man beside him. “You’ve brought a lot of color to it since the day you walked into my life.”
Kaveh’s hand stilled mid-stroke, eyes widening as Alhaitham’s words registered.
Slowly, he turned to face him, mouth parted in stunned silence, but before the reply he was forming could slip past his lips, a sudden gust scattered a few loose pages of his sketchbook across the ground, the moment shattering into motion as he scrambled to catch them.
"M-maybe we should head back now." The blond said nervously, as he stood up and began walking out of the cave. Alhaitham, without much of a say, stood up from the grass and followed him silently.
The confession was left hanging in the air like an unfinished verse.
He wasn’t sure if Kaveh understood what he meant. He wasn’t even certain he understood it himself.
They remained silent as they walked side by side, and they would both pretend to forget this moment, like so many others before it.
What a lie that was.
.-.-.-.-.-.-.
Alhaitham was a simple man. He didn’t see the need to overcomplicate his life.
If one were to analyze his life objectively, his current situation would easily be described as both ideal and highly successful.
He held a prestigious position within the Akademiya, one that not only commanded respect but also granted him significant freedom in how he chose to pursue most of his work. This role, paired with a level of financial stability that many could only dream of, offered him a comfortable life without the burdens that usually accompany such responsibilities.
Serving as the Acting Sage could have been overwhelming for many, but with a proper schedule, Alhaitham found it was not truly all that taxing, and he couldn't really complain about it.
He had every part of his life attached in perfect order, a testament to years of hard work and dedication, and yet, beneath this outward success, there lingered a quiet sense of dissatisfaction, an unshakable feeling that something essential was missing, though even he struggled to define what it was.
In truth, his day-to-day life was rather uneventful. Work consumed most of his time, but he didn’t mind. His appetite for books remained as strong as ever, a habit ingrained in him since childhood. Socializing, however, had always been low on his list of priorities. He had grown used to solitude, a way of life that never bothered him. He was content with it—or at least, so he told himself.
He could count a few people as friends, at least by the formality of the term. The Traveler had become a recurring presence in his life, often dropping by unexpectedly to drag him off on adventurers’ guild missions or personal favors.
Those encounters, while tiring and often tedious, never escalated beyond what the scribe could manage. He always found ways to minimize his own involvement, keeping the required effort at a comfortable level.
Tighnari and Cyno had also reconnected with him lately. They had known each other since their days at the Akademiya, though Alhaitham had drifted away from them as time passed.
Following the liberation of Lesser Lord Kusanali and the reorganization of Sumeru’s political sphere, the two had begun reaching out to him again. They now invited him to dinner regularly, and while the conversations were often pleasant enough, Alhaitham preferred to keep things casual. Tighnari’s student, Collei, would sometimes visit him too, whenever she was in the area. She was polite, eager to learn, and Alhaitham found her respectfulness refreshing.
Those people were what he would now consider his circle, though the connections were not overly deep. At one point, however, there had been another. Someone who had once held a significant place in his life.
He tried to avoid thinking too much about it.
His first friend—his closest friend—though that felt like a lifetime ago. Now, he doubted that person even thought of him at all.
Kaveh. That was his name.
And it was that same name that appeared on his desk one morning, unexpectedly.
It was a quiet Monday morning, somewhere in the middle of May.
Alhaitham had started his day like any other, leaving his house at the scheduled time, arriving at his office just as expected. The day seemed normal, routine even. That was, until he sat at his desk to begin reviewing some of the documents left on his desk.
Paperwork was something he had to endure every day in his work, but Amid the usual bureaucratic tasks, something unfamiliar caught his eye—an old, archived report, buried deep among the newer files.
Curious, he pulled it closer. The document was dated from over ten years ago, yellowed and slightly worn around the edges. Whoever had left it on his desk had clearly intended for him to find it.
It was a funding request for a building project.
Alhaitham didn’t scrutinize the architectural details too carefully at first, but what stood out immediately was the peculiar design. It was ambitious, far more daring than anything Sumeru typically approved. The structure's intricate lines and grand concept seemed to capture an artistic vision Alhaitham hadn’t seen in a long time.
His eyes flicked down to the name scrawled at the bottom of the petition: Kaveh.
And the handwriting—elegant, cursive, unmistakably his.
For a moment, the scribe stare at the familiar strokes of ink.
He hadn’t seen that handwriting in years, but his memory of it was vivid, as if Kaveh had only written it yesterday. Back then, he used to watch him scribble endlessly into his notebook, his ideas pouring out faster than his hand could keep up. Seeing it again now—so abruptly, so unexpectedly—stirred something in him.
The time they had spent together was brief but unforgettable.
Alhaitham had first met him at the Akademiya, during his early years as a student. Kaveh was older, and far more popular. In fact, Alhaitham had heard his name long before he ever saw him in person.
“The prodigy of Kshahrewar” they often called him, with golden hair and fiery crimson eyes. He seemed to inspire awe among his peers, though at first, Alhaitham couldn’t quite understand why. It wasn’t until he met him face-to-face that it all began to make sense.
Friendship had never come easily to Alhaitham. Not then, and certainly not now. His student life had been solitary, filled with books and endless study sessions. The only meaningful connection he had was with his grandmother, and even then, he knew she wouldn’t be around forever.
She had always wished for him to make friends, but Alhaitham was never quite sure how to go about it.
One day, he was absorbed in a book at the House of Daena, like any other afternoon. The quiet atmosphere of the library wrapped around him, until a light touch on his shoulder pulled him out of his reading. He turned to find himself face-to-face with none other than the famous boy, beaming at him with a smile that stretched from ear to ear.
"Hi, my name’s Kaveh. What are you reading?"
Alhaitham blinked, unsure of how to respond. He had seen Kaveh’s silhouette passing through the halls on occasion, but never this close. The boy's presence suddenly felt larger than life, as if the radiant energy that surrounded him was impossible to ignore.
"It’s an anthropological study of communication in ancient times," Alhaitham finally replied, his voice measured.
Kaveh’s eyes lit up. "Oh, linguistics! That’s a pretty advanced topic. I just studied that a few months ago."
Without missing a beat, Alhaitham turned the page and replied calmly, "I like the subject, and it’s convenient to stay ahead."
Kaveh leaned in, peering over his shoulder to glance at the open book. The closeness startled Alhaitham slightly. He hadn’t expected someone like him to be so forward, especially considering they’d never spoken before. Why was he acting so familiar?
After skimming the page, Kaveh sighed with an exaggerated breath. "So, you really are the genius everyone says you are, huh?"
Alhaitham raised an eyebrow, curious. "The scholars talk about me?"
"All the time! In a good way, of course." Kaveh grinned mischievously as he grabbed a chair, settling himself beside Alhaitham. "They say you’re a prodigy for your age. Isn’t that amazing? You’ve already got quite the reputation."
Alhaitham wasn’t sure what had led Kaveh to approach him that day. Maybe it was curiosity, or just Kaveh being Kaveh—impulsive and driven by whatever idea struck him first. It wouldn’t have surprised him if he had simply wanted to confirm the rumors for himself.
Whatever the reason, that encounter wasn’t the last. In fact, it was far from it. Kaveh continued to appear in Alhaitham’s life, finding him in various corners of the Akademiya.
It wasn’t long before they began spending more and more time together, whether studying in the quietest parts of the library or sharing lunch in secluded spots away from the crowds.
Kaveh quickly understood Alhaitham’s reserved nature, but despite their differences, he never pushed him to do things he wasn’t comfortable with. The boy had a kind of patience that Alhaitham hadn’t expected from someone so sociable. Slowly, Alhaitham found himself growing attached to the golden-haired senior.
How could he not? Kaveh had an undeniable warmth about him, a light that seemed to radiate from within.
Years passed, and as Kaveh’s fame grew, the students gave him a new title: "The Light of Kshahrewar." Alhaitham couldn’t have agreed more. Their friendship had only deepened over time, to the point where they became nearly inseparable.
Back then, Alhaitham couldn’t have imagined things ending as they did, though a small part of him knew that nothing lasts forever. Their friendship had survived many disagreements, but during an important project they took on together, one argument grew into something far more destructive. Their clashing ideologies finally came to a head, and the fight that ensued was unlike anything they had experienced before.
Harsh words were exchanged, cruel things said in the heat of the moment. But it was Kaveh who broke first. Alhaitham could still see the tears in his eyes as he ripped their work in half, his voice cracking as he shouted something final—something that severed the bond between them.
That day was etched into Alhaitham’s mind. It wasn’t a pleasant memory, but it was a vivid one. Still, Alhaitham was a simple man. Life went on, and so did he, never imagining that Kaveh would vanish from his life for good after that.
The separation had been difficult, but Alhaitham hadn’t given it too much thought. A few days before their fallout, Kaveh had mentioned to him that his mother was planning to move to Fontaine. It wasn’t hard to assume that Kaveh had ended up going with her a month after their fight. After all, the Akademiya itself seemed to accept that explanation, and that was all the closure Alhaitham had been willing to entertain.
Returning to the present, his eyes fell back on the old record.
Why had this appeared on his desk now, after all these years?
Questions swirled in his mind, but no immediate answers followed. He placed the report back on the desk, his gaze lingering on the name for a moment longer. A soft frown creased his brow. He hadn’t seen Kaveh in... how long? The memories were distant, hazy around the edges, but still tangible enough to reach out and touch.
He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. There was something unsettling about it all, a faint tug at the back of his mind that told him this may not be just a coincidence.
Just as he was about to turn his gaze back to his work, something unusual flickered at the edge of his vision—a strange figure, small and low to the ground, peeking through the door frame.
The scribe snapped his head up, eyes narrowing in that direction, but whatever it was vanished in an instant. Had some stray animal managed to slip into his office unnoticed?
Despite his initial curiosity, Alhaitham’s interest in the document quickly faded when he realized there were no real leads to follow. After questioning the source of the misplaced file, he confirmed that it had simply been an error—they had mistakenly pulled it from the archives.
There was nothing more to investigate. If Kaveh had indeed started a new life in Fontaine, there was no point in dredging up old memories.
And so, Alhaitham resumed his daily routine without much thought. His days blurred into the usual mix of work, commissions, and the occasional social engagement. It wasn’t until a month and a half later that something else—something equally unexpected—appeared on his desk again. This time, it wasn’t Kaveh’s name that caught his attention.
‘ Renowned architect Faranak visits Sumeru City for The Sanctuary of Surusthana renovation.’
Alhaitham stared at the headline for a long moment, rereading the name that immediately rang familiar. It was an article from a local newspaper, one his secretary often left for him as per his request. The headline was bold, the letters stretched across the top in oversized print.
Faranak. Kaveh’s mother. His eyes narrowed as the memory of the kind woman resurfaced.
She’s coming back?
Huh…
The scribe hadn’t thought of her in years, though he remembered her well enough.
He hadn’t known her deeply, but he recalled her as a melancholic figure, always carrying a subtle sadness with her. Kaveh had spoken to him once about his family tragedy—the rift between them and the reasons behind her decision to leave Sumeru. Returning after so many years had to be a difficult decision.
Alhaitham continued reading the article, his expression thoughtful. For a fleeting moment, he pondered if Kaveh would be accompanying her. It was a faint hope, one that tugged at the edges of his thoughts despite his logical mind dismissing it. Still, the idea lingered. He couldn’t help but wonder how Kaveh’s ideals had manifested over the years.
How much had he changed from the vibrant, idealistic student Alhaitham remembered so vividly?
As quickly as the thought came, he brushed it aside. There was no point in dwelling on possibilities. Kaveh’s life had likely taken its own course, separate from the one they had once shared.
With a slight frown, Alhaitham folded the paper and set it aside. He returned to his work, though a part of him unconsciously noted the date of the renowned architect’s arrival.
.-.-.-.-.-.-.
As expected, the scribe's interest didn't remain ignorant for long.
"Excuse me, sir. Lesser Lord Kusanali requests your presence at the Sanctuary.”
When Nahida approached him a few days after he read the newspaper article, asking him to serve as the consultant assigned to oversee the Surusthana Sanctuary renovation, Alhaitham found himself accepting the task almost without hesitation.
It was a sudden decision, perhaps driven more by that lingering interest than anything else.
But if Kaveh’s chapter had already been closed for him, the current circumstances offered new and intriguing possibilities. It was as if the door he had once firmly shut was now being quietly nudged open, inviting him to reconsider everything he thought had been left in the past.
"Would you mind helping with the financial allocation and keeping an eye on the progress?" Nahida had asked with her usual warmth. "It’ll give you a break from all the paperwork. I can recommend you as the advisory representative, and another sage will handle the formalities. It’s a perfect opportunity for you to relax a little. Oh, and when she arrives, do show her around the city. Make her stay as pleasant as possible."
The scribe accepted her request, though inwardly, the idea of playing tour guide felt strange.
He wasn’t one to engage in casual pleasantries, much less entertain guests, but he agreed nonetheless, knowing that this assignment might offer him a chance to gather information—perhaps, through Faranak, he could finally learn something about Kaveh.
Now, he stood at Sumeru’s bustling harbor, a book in hand, waiting for the ship to dock.
The sun was setting, casting a warm glow over the tidal flow, and the cool sea breeze rustled the pages of the open tome. Despite the calm he tried to project, his mind wandered around a thousand thoughts, most of them centering on what he would say—or perhaps more importantly—what he wouldn’t say to the visitor.
The ship arrived slowly, its large hull cutting through the water. Alhaitham shifted his weight and crossed his arms, his gaze fixed on the descending ramp. He couldn’t help but feel a slight sense of unease. What exactly was he expecting? A sudden reunion with Kaveh?
He dismissed the thought, reminding himself that this was just another task, another responsibility to fulfill, but as the minutes passed and the passengers began to disembark, the crowd swelled with onlookers eager to catch a glimpse of the renowned architect.
Alhaitham felt a subtle impatience creeping in, and his foot tapped softly against the stone ground, an unconscious reaction as his eyes scanned the faces filing off the boat.
Among the bustling travelers—merchants, families, scholars returning home—his gaze finally landed on the familiar figure.
The golden hair shimmered in the evening light, unmistakable for him even from a distance. It was the same shade as Kaveh's.
The old lady was carrying a set of luggage, struggling slightly as she descended the ramp with her belongings in tow.
Alhaitham watched her for a moment longer than he intended, surprised at how much she had changed since he last saw her. Her refined attire—a distinguished dress of soft blue tones—bore the unmistakable elegance of Fontaine fashion. Her posture was more relaxed, her expression lighter. Gone was the melancholy air that had clung to her in the past. She seemed happier, more at peace.
His eyes instinctively drifted behind her, searching for any sign of Kaveh. But no one followed. The realization sank in slowly—He hadn't come with her.
Closing his book with a quiet snap, Alhaitham moved towards her, weaving through the crowd. Faranak hadn’t yet noticed him, too preoccupied with her luggage as she tried to maneuver her way through the busy port. He approached her silently, gently placing a hand on her shoulder to get her attention.
She looked up quickly, startled at first, but her surprise softened when she met his gaze.
Crimson eyes, the same as his. For a brief second, a wave of nostalgia hit him.
"Good afternoon, Mrs. Faranak. I’m Alhaitham, the Acting Grand Sage of Sumeru," he said with measured politeness. "At the request of the Archon and on behalf of the Akademiya, I’ll be overseeing the renovation project and ensuring your stay is a pleasant one."
Faranak blinked, clearly taken aback, before recognition dawned in her eyes. Her lips parted in surprise, her gaze sweeping over him as if she were trying to place a distant memory.
"… You’re… Alhaitham?" she asked, her voice tinged with disbelief.
He gave a small nod, confirming her suspicions.
Her expression brightened, and a soft laugh escaped her. "Oh my goodness! You’ve grown so much! I can hardly believe it. You were so small back then, even smaller than my son, and now look at you!" She beamed, a hand resting over her chest as if she were trying to contain her amazement. "You’ve changed so much!"
Alhaitham remained composed, though he could feel a faint sense of awkwardness creeping in. He hadn’t expected such a warm reaction. "It’s an honor to welcome you back to Sumeru. Please, allow me to take your bags," he offered, quickly changing the subject and reaching for her luggage.
"Oh, thank you," she said with a grateful smile, following him as he began to lead the way. "It’s so good to be back. It’s been… far too long."
As they walked away from the harbor, Alhaitham’s thoughts were already swirling. The conversation had gone smoothly, but the unanswered questions about the vibrant scholar still hung heavy in his brain.
Patience was a virtue Alhaitham had mastered over the years. He knew better than to rush into questions that would only complicate the fragile interaction with the old lady. He had neither the right nor the closeness to bring up Kaveh just yet. It wasn’t the time.
They walked in near silence through the familiar streets of Sumeru City, Faranak’s eyes wandering in every direction as if trying to absorb every detail. Alhaitham occasionally answered to her doubts, his commentary brief but polite.
He supposed it must have been overwhelming to return to her homeland after so long, and he didn’t hurry her along. Instead, he let her pace herself, watching as she marveled at the changes in the city’s architecture and atmosphere.
Eventually, they arrived at the Shapur Hotel. Alhaitham approached the reception desk, placing a small bag of mora on the counter without hesitation.
"You don’t have to pay for me," Faranak said, a little embarrassed, as she fumbled with her own purse. "I brought enough mora for my stay."
"It’s no problem," Alhaitham replied, his tone casual. "This is just to expedite the process."
The receptionist quickly made a call, and within moments, a pair of attendants arrived to carry Faranak’s luggage. They handed her a room key, and Alhaitham gestured toward the nearby door. "Your room is right there," he said, his voice smooth and professional. "You can decide what you’d like to do first in the city, but I would recommend resting. The journey must have been long, and it’s best to get settled before anything else."
Faranak nodded appreciatively. "That sounds wonderful," she said with a warm smile. "Everything It’s so different now. I can hardly recognize some of these streets. I missed it... all of it."
Alhaitham watched her closely, gauging the subtle emotions behind her words. He cleared his throat, recalibrating his thoughts. "Would tonight suit you for a small tour of the city? Or would you prefer to start early tomorrow?"
"Tonight is fine," Faranak answered, still looking around the hotel lobby. "I’m meeting with the suppliers tomorrow, so it might be better to get acquainted with the surroundings now."
"Understood. I’ll pick you up in the evening."
Naturally, the scribe turned towards the exit, already planning the next steps when Faranak’s voice stopped him mid-step.
"May I ask you something before you go?"
The subtle shift in her tone caused Alhaitham to pause, his expression unreadable. He glanced over his shoulder, his gaze neutral but alert. "Of course," he replied, turning fully to face her.
Faranak hesitated, her hands clasped tightly in front of her, fingers fidgeting anxiously. The movement caught his attention, an all-too-familiar gesture that Kaveh used to do when he was nervous or unsure. The resemblance was uncanny—their mannerisms, the way they expressed their feelings through small actions.
"I’ve been thinking," Faranak began, her voice faltering with uncertainty. "I didn’t want to ask too suddenly, since it’s probably rude of me… but now that I’m here, I suppose I just can’t wait any longer." She looked up at him, her crimson eyes filled with a mix of hope and apprehension. "I wanted to know if you’ve heard anything about my son. Kaveh."
Her voice softened as she spoke his name, almost as if she were afraid to say it aloud. "I know that when I left, things between us weren’t… Well, they weren’t ideal. My heart has never stopped thinking about him, and since you two were so close, I thought… maybe you’d know how he’s been."
Alhaitham frowned, confusion knitting his brow. For a moment, he wondered if he had misheard her.
Was he misunderstanding something?
"I’m sorry," he began, his eyes narrowing slightly in thought. "Why would I know anything about Kaveh?"
Faranak’s eyes widened, her nervous fingers stilling. She seemed taken aback by his response, her voice growing softer as she spoke. "Oh, I just thought… since you two were such good friends back then, you must still be in contact. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I only wanted to know if—"
"No, wait," Alhaitham interrupted gently, his voice steady yet filled with confusion. "It’s not that. I’m just… confused on what you’re asking." He met her gaze directly, his expression growing more serious. "Why are you asking me how Kaveh is? Shouldn’t you know better than anyone?"
Faranak blinked, the tension in her face returning. She averted her gaze, her voice trembling slightly as she spoke. "I-I’m ashamed to admit this, but I haven’t been in contact with him since I left Sumeru. I thought he didn’t want to speak to me, so I didn’t push. But now… I can’t help but feel guilty for not reaching out sooner. I’d like to see him before I leave again."
Alhaitham’s eyes darkened as the pieces began to fall into place. "But…" he paused, his mind racing. "Isn’t Kaveh with you?"
Faranak’s expression twisted into one of confusion, her brow furrowing as she took a step toward him. "What? No, of course not. Kaveh stayed here in Sumeru to continue his studies, didn’t he? Why are you asking me this?"
Is he not in Fontaine?
Alhaitham stood frozen, his usual composure slipping as a sudden realization crashed into him with overwhelming force.
"Mrs. Faranak," he said slowly, his voice laced with an uncharacteristic trace of disbelief. "Kaveh isn’t in Sumeru. He hasn’t been here for years. Everyone in the city believes that he went to Fontaine with you."
"What?" Faranak’s eyes widened, her face drained of color as she stared at the ground. "B-but that’s impossible," she muttered, almost to herself.
A single sentence—so simple yet so devastating—hung in the air, and Alhaitham felt his reliance shatter at its very utterance.
"My son never went to Fontaine," the woman said, her voice trembling. “He never left Sumeru with me.”