Later…
The Academy’s halls swallowed their footsteps like a library trying to stay quiet.
Towan craned his neck as they passed a vaulted lecture chamber, its tiered seating stretching toward a ceiling painted with constellations that… moved. He blinked. Yep. They shifted subtly, dancing between seconds.
Elliot nudged him. “Check the doors.”
Every archway was carved from black basalt, its veins of silver pulsing faintly when Towan’s shadow crossed them. He reached out instinctively—just before—
“Hey guys.”
They turned.
Sylra leaned against a pillar, arms crossed, her storm-gray Academy uniform a shade darker than the smirk playing on her lips.
“It’s been a while, huh?”
Towan’s grin came unbidden. “Missed you too, Sylra.”
She flicked his forehead. “Inscription lines doubled after lunch.”
She jerked her chin toward the distant hum of voices—an increasingly long queue snaking out from the registrar’s chamber.
“Lucky you came early.”
Elliot gave a low whistle. “How many applicants this year?”
“Enough that the dining hall ran out of meat pies yesterday. It’s a massacre.” Her silver eyes gleamed, then added, almost too casually: “Also, Len Verestra’s here.”
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Towan’s eyes widened in the universal language of you’re joking.
Sylra’s grin widened. “Dead serious. Apparently she started hitting the books like mad after hearing you’d be here.”
“…No way.”
Elliot blinked between them. “Did I miss something?”
“Nothing,” Towan said. Way too fast.
Sylra just laughed—windy and real—and hooked an arm through each of theirs.
“Come on. Let’s get you fed before the exam eats you alive.”
As she pulled them toward the dining wing, the runes etched into the basalt shimmered behind them—watching. Listening.
The cafeteria buzzed with the clatter of trays and the murmur of students, the air thick with the scent of roasted meat and spiced stew. Warm afternoon light slanted through the high windows, painting the worn wooden tables in gold as Sylra and the others settled in with their meals.
Sylra picked at her food, her brow furrowing slightly as she brought up the exam. “We’re gonna have the theoretical part first,” she explained, her voice cutting through the hum of the room. “Questions about the nature of the Essentia and what it carries along with it.”
Elliot leaned back in his chair, grinning. “Easy.”
Towan snorted, tearing off a piece of bread. “Easy to bullshit.”
A sudden waft of floral perfume—something light, like jasmine—drifted past as a girl stopped beside their table. “Hey, Sylra! Remember me?”
They all looked up. She had fiery red hair, loosely braided over one shoulder, strands escaping like embers. Her green eyes sparkled with recognition, fixed on Sylra, who narrowed her own in thought, her fingers pausing mid-bite.
“Alira Veyne, right?” Sylra replied, her tone steady but with the faintest flicker of uncertainty.
“Exactly!” Alira beamed, her grin bright against the cafeteria’s muted noise. “I’m glad you recognize me. We were together in the entrance course.”
Then she turned to the boys, the scent of ink and parchment clinging to her sleeves as she extended her hand. “Pleasure to meet you. I’m Alira.” Her grip was firm, warm against the cool draft slipping in from the open hallways.
She hesitated, her smile dimming just slightly. “Mind if I eat with you? None of my friends from the entrance course… well, they didn’t qualify for the exam.”
Towan slid over, making space on the bench. “Sure, don’t worry.” The wood creaked under the shift, and he offered an easy smile. “New friends are always welcome.”