The training ground introductions dragged on until shadows began to stretch long across the stone. By the ti Ilthane dismissed them, most of the students were weary, their excitent dulled by fatigue.
Mozrael slipped from the group as the lines dispersed with light steps, almost silent.
She didn’t draw attention. Didn’t want to risk having any trouble. Her heart pulled her in a different direction, away from the chatter and the nervous laughter of those who tried to ease the day’s weight. She had only one destination.
The field outside the main campus was quiet. Here, near the assembly grounds, the trees looked taller sohow, yet the silence was strangely soothing. She spotted them at once.
Aramith lay on a patch of grass, his hands folded behind his head, his eyes closed as if he were napping beneath the fading sun. A faint breeze tugged strands of his hair across his face, but he didn’t stir.
Not far off, Aris sat hunched over, knees pulled to his chest, his gaze fixed sowhere distant. He looked small, a shadow of himself, as though carrying the weight of guilt in silence.
Mozrael’s lips parted, the faintest of sighs escaping. She walked toward them.
Aramith’s eyes opened before she spoke, clear and steady, as if he had known she would co. "It took you so long, I almost thought you wouldn’t co back."
She knelt beside him, her expression caught sowhere between relief and frustration. "We were kept busy. They showed us the grounds... the halls... it was so much. Like it was endless"
His mouth curved faintly, almost a smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "Endless is the right word. But it’s good, right?"
She nodded, but didn’t share much. Just fragnts—the dining hall, the dorms, the introduction of classmates. Enough to keep him connected, not enough to burden him with detail. She didn’t want him to feel left out in this, and he understood. He listened in silence, gaze fixed on the sky.
When she finished, he turned his head toward her, rembering how she described her roommates. "Take your ti there. Don’t rush to judge. Watch them. Especially your roommates and classmates. Learn who they are before you decide who they’ll be to you. And since this is our first ti in the academy, it’s best not to start on the wrong side of anyone." His voice beca quieter as a bitter smile crept up his face.
"Though... I already started on the wrong side."Mozrael’s chest tightened. She wanted to deny it, to remind him that he hadn’t deserved what was done to him, but the words wouldn’t co. Silence was safer, even if it tasted bitter.
She glanced at Aris, who tried his best to remain invisible.
Aris was well aware of how much Mozrael didn’t want him around, so he wanted things to either stay like that or get better. if he made the mistake of making things worse, he couldn’t guess how bad things could be.
Ti passed unnoticed as they lingered together, the quietness of the place becoming a comfort. The sun dipped behind the horizon, shadows thickened, and the evening grew cool.
Still, she stayed, unwilling to part.
It was Garrun’s booming voice that broke the mont. He strode the paths like a storm, shouting for students to return to their dorms. Counting down in the sa loud voice he’d used to call them to assembly.
Mozrael clenched her fists at her sides, reluctant to leave.
Aramith pushed himself up onto his elbows. "Go," he said gently. "Don’t worry about . You rember Lynnor, don’t you? We’ve spent nights under worse skies than this. The forest was harsher than this place will ever be. This place is safer."
But when she hesitated, he sat up fully and t her gaze. "Mozrael. Go." He didn’t want her to get into any more trouble.
She swallowed, then gave the smallest of nods. As she left, her steps grew slower with each pace, until Garrun’s shouting herded her into the dormitory.
Aramith, anwhile, did not sleep. Not that night.
When the grounds grew still and the lights in the dormitories dimd, he reached for the simple bracelet at his wrist. The space rippled faintly as it responded to his will. From it, he drew food—bread, dried at, fruit—and offered it wordlessly to Aris. He could never choose what the bracelet provided, but what it gave was always right.
Aris blinked in surprise, wide-eyed. "Where... where did that co from?"
Aramith only shrugged. "A tool I keep."
Aris accepted the food, but even as he ate, his gaze lingered on the bracelet. His awe was plain, but his confusion lingered more.
At least I have food, he thought as he filled his stomach.
Later, while Aris curled up against the cold grass, exhaustion finally claiming him, Aramith wandered.
He moved with care, his footsteps almost soundless as he traced the academy’s boundaries. He explored the edges of the training fields, the library’s looming shadow, the wide open courtyards, but he never strayed near the classrooms or dormitories, not daring to test the punishnt Ilthane had laid down.
The night air was cool and crisp, and for once, he was grateful for it. It kept him awake. It kept him watchful.
Mozrael entered her dormitory to find her roommates waiting.
The first girl—the bright-eyed one—perked up at once when Mozrael stepped inside. She was sitting cross-legged on her bed, fiddling with a braid of her dark hair. "You’re finally back!" she said, her voice quick and warm. "I thought you’d gotten lost already. I’m Elira."
Elira. The na suited her, fitting the way her tongue was light, and the glow in her eyes.
Across the room, the pale-haired girl lifted her chin. She sat at the desk with a straight spine, crimson eyes sharp beneath lashes as white as snow. Her words were cool, clipped short by her disinterest. "Sylvia Drakemire."
Mozrael inclined her head. "Mozrael Virellian."
At that, Elira’s brow furrowed slightly. She tilted her head, deep in thought.
Mozrael noticed the small change in the girl’s expression, hoping she wouldn’t recognize her and Aramith. Lynnor told them their identity wouldn’t be known in this place.
"Virellian... I’ve heard that na before." Her eyes brightened with thought, but after a mont she shook her head. "Never mind. It’ll co to ."
Mozrael’s shoulders relaxed.
The conversation should have ended there. But Elira was a storm of words, and once unleashed, she didn’t stop. She filled the room with chatter about the academy, about her parents who had insisted she attend, about her surprise that the place wasn’t nearly as dreadful as she’d feared, and about how easily they were granetd entry into the academy.
Mozrael gave polite answers, short and simple. Sylvia offered none at all. She remained at her desk, quill scratching against parchnt, her silence cutting through Elira’s rambling.
Elira didn’t seem to mind. She only leaned forward, voice dropping conspiratorially. "And have you noticed? So of the people here really stand out. Eye-catching, you know? Oh—and you’re very pretty, Mozrael. I an it." She grinned, playful. "And that boy you were with earlier—he was good-looking too. Too bad about the punishnt, though."
Mozrael’s brows twitched.
"What’s his na?" Elira pressed.
"Aramith," Mozrael said, her tone flat.
"And...?"
Mozrael raised an eyebrow.
"I an, what else? I want to know him. He seems an interesting guy, you know?" Elira was beaming at Mozrael, but...
Mozrael’s gaze sharpened, and her lips ford a thin line. "If you want to know him, then ask him yourself. It isn’t right to speak for him when he hasn’t given permission."
The rebuke was quiet but firm. Elira blinked, then chuckled nervously, lifting her hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. I wasn’t trying to steal him away from you."
Mozrael’s expression shifted, unreadable. She only stared at Elira, and in that silence, she caught Sylvia watching her.
The pale-haired girl’s crimson eyes narrowed slightly, unflinching, almost challenging.
Their eyes locked. Sylvia’s gaze was sharp and dissecting, as if she were peeling away Mozrael’s layers one by one.
Mozrael’s stomach knotted—not fear, but a prickling awareness. This girl would not look away, would not yield, and she couldn’t understand what her thoughts were.
"Wow," Elira laughed, trying to cut the mont. "You two look like rivals already."
Neither denied it, but after a long breath, Mozrael broke the contact first. Sylvia returned to her parchnt without a word.
The night stretched on. Elira kept talking—about the academy, about how she imagined training might be, about what dresses she would have rather packed if her mother hadn’t insisted on practical clothes.
Sylvia wrote, ignoring her surroundings.
Mozrael sat on her bed, knees hugged to her chest, her mind far from the chatter. She imagined Aramith on the cold grass, eyes open to the dark sky, carrying punishnt in silence while she sat here with walls to shield her.
It wasn’t fair. None of it was.
Elira noticed. Sohow, she felt Mozrael’s displeasure. She spoke more softly then, rambling about silly things, as though trying to draw Mozrael back into the room. Little things, harmless things.
Just girl talk.
But Mozrael only listened, her heart elsewhere.
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