The first warning came from Lina.
Not words.
A yawn.
A long, satisfied yawn that made her eyes water.
She leaned back in her chair, arms stretched, monster book open in front of her like she'd just devoured it.
"Ahhh," she breathed happily. "That was amazing."
Arlo didn't look up. "You read pictures."
"I read captions too!" Lina protested, offended. "And I learned at least twelve new ways animals can become horrifying."
Mya giggled softly, still tucked beside me.
I blinked, rubbing my eyes with my good hand.
My ribs ached in a dull, tired way.
My arm tugged in the sling.
The library's light crystals were still bright and steady—unchanging, patient, like time didn't apply inside this tower.
"Trey," Lina said loudly, turning toward me, "let's go home."
I blinked at her. "What?"
Lina pointed toward the tall windows—small, high—and the faint shift in the color of light that seeped through.
"It's late," she declared.
Arlo finally looked up, annoyed, then glanced toward the entrance as if he could see through stone.
He frowned. "It shouldn't be—"
He paused, then his eyes widened slightly.
"…It is," he admitted.
Mya jolted up from her chair like she'd been stabbed by realization.
"Oh no!" she squeaked. "My mom will scold me!"
Lina gasped dramatically. "The Alchemist Wrath!"
Mya made a tiny distressed sound, cheeks red. "It's not—she's just… worried."
Arlo stood, suddenly brisk. "We didn't realize because the library is brighter than outside."
My stomach dropped a little as I realized it too.
We'd been inside so long that the world could've changed without us noticing.
We gathered our things quickly.
Lina shoved her monster book closed with care, but her movements were still hurried.
Arlo stacked his books neatly, like even rushing couldn't override his need for order.
Mya folded her things fast, fumbling slightly because her hands were shaking.
I slid The Ethera Treatise on Miasma and Mutation into my bag carefully, like it was fragile.
Or like it was priceless.
Or both.
We hurried out of the tower.
The moment the doors opened, the air hit us cooler and sharper. The sky outside was smeared with orange and pink, and the shadows in the garden had grown long enough to look like they could grab your ankles.
We stood there for half a second, stunned by the sudden proof that time had been moving without us.
Then Lina snapped her fingers. "Okay! Split up!"
Mya flinched. "Split up?"
Lina nodded like she was commanding an expedition. "My home is the opposite way. Trey and Mya go together. Arlo… you live here."
Arlo stared at her. "Yes. Obviously."
Lina turned, already waving. "Bye, Arlo! Thanks for the books!"
Mya bowed shyly. "Th-thank you, Arlo."
I hesitated—then forced myself to meet Arlo's eyes.
"Thank you," I said quietly.
Arlo's mouth twitched like he didn't know how to respond to gratitude without turning it into a lecture.
"…Return the book," he said instead, which was his way of caring.
"I will," I promised.
Arlo nodded, satisfied.
A butler—one of the house staff—approached Lina smoothly.
"I will escort you to the main road," he said politely.
Lina puffed up like she was important. "Yes. Escort me. I am a valuable monster scholar."
The butler didn't react at all, which somehow made it funnier.
Lina waved wildly at us as she was guided away. "Don't get eaten by sunset!"
Arlo sighed and turned back toward the mansion, already back in his world.
That left me and Mya.
We stepped through the gate and onto the street together, the warm evening light following us like it was trying to listen.
***
We walked side by side.
At first, neither of us spoke.
Not because we were angry.
Because we were tired.
Because the day felt too full.
Because silence with someone new was still a little awkward, even if you liked them.
Mya held her bag close to her chest. Her steps were quick, anxious.
I kept pace carefully, ribs tugging when I moved too fast.
The sky deepened, orange sliding toward gold.
After a while, I realized the silence was making my chest feel tight, so I broke it.
"Thank you," I said.
Mya blinked, then looked at me. "For what?"
"For explaining," I said. "The book."
Mya's cheeks warmed again. "Oh."
She gave a small, breathy laugh. "You're welcome."
We walked a few more steps.
Then I asked, because it mattered to me more than I expected.
"Did you… enjoy it?" I said. "The library."
Mya nodded quickly. "Yes. Very much."
Her voice grew a little stronger as she spoke, like remembering the shelves gave her courage.
"I liked… being there," she admitted. "It was quiet. And… everyone was reading. It felt… fun."
Fun.
I understood that.
I nodded slowly.
Then something slipped out of my mouth before I could stop it—something that had been lingering all day.
"You giggled a lot today," I said.
Mya froze.
Her entire face went red.
"I—" she stammered, eyes widening. "A-am I?"
She looked down, mortified, fingers tightening around her bag strap.
"Is it bad?" she whispered quickly. "Do you not like it?"
I blinked, startled by the panic in her voice.
"No," I said, immediate. "It's not bad."
Mya's head lifted slightly, still not meeting my eyes.
I kept talking, because if I didn't, she would spiral into silence again.
"There's nothing wrong with it," I said, as casually as I could manage. "I… actually like it."
Mya went very still.
The air between us felt suddenly too warm.
I didn't understand why.
I kept going, because my mind had already decided honesty was safe.
"I like you when you giggle," I added. "When you're enjoying stuff."
I meant it the way I meant it.
The way I liked Barrek when he laughed too loud.
The way I liked Nerissa when her eyes softened.
The way I liked Ash when he spoke calmly and didn't treat me like I was fragile.
The way I liked Myrina—because she was my sister, and her laughter had been a sun in my life.
Just… liking.
Friendly.
Simple.
Mya stopped walking.
I took one more step, then realized and stopped too, turning slightly.
Mya's eyes were wide.
Her cheeks were so red I thought she might overheat.
"S-so…" she whispered, voice trembling, "you like me?"
I blinked, confused by how serious she sounded.
"Yes," I said, nonchalant. "I like you."
Mya made a tiny sound like her lungs forgot how to work.
Then she started walking again—fast.
Very fast.
Like the street had suddenly turned into a race.
I hurried after her, ribs protesting, confused.
"Mya?" I called.
She didn't answer.
She just walked faster, face turned away like she couldn't let me see it.
I stared at the back of her head, baffled.
Did I say something wrong?
I thought maybe she was rushing because of her mother.
Because the sky was darkening.
Because she didn't want to get scolded.
So I said nothing else, because saying things seemed dangerous now, apparently.
We walked in a strange half-silence—her too fast, me trying to keep up without falling apart, my bag bumping against my side with the weight of Professor Ethera's book inside.
***
The road split where the buildings changed.
Mya's home lay down one street—closer to shops and warmer lights.
My home lay down the other—quieter, smaller, the kind of lane that felt empty even when you walked through it.
We stopped at the intersection.
Mya finally turned toward me again—careful, like she'd been holding her face away on purpose.
Her eyes still refused to fully meet mine.
She held her bag so tight her knuckles looked pale.
"I… I should go," she said, voice small.
"Okay," I said, because I didn't know what else to do.
"Um," I added quickly, "see you next class."
Mya jolted like I'd tapped her shoulder.
Her eyes widened, then flicked away again.
"Y-yes," she said, voice small but bright. "See you… next class."
She bowed again—too fast, too deep—then turned and hurried off like her feet were trying to outrun her own face.
"Goodbye, Trey," she whispered.
"Goodbye," I said.
Mya turned and hurried away, practically fleeing down her street.
I watched her go until she disappeared behind a building.
Then I turned down my street.
The evening was cooler now. The lanterns had begun to glow. My footsteps sounded too loud in the quieter lane.
My ribs ached.
My arm tugged.
My brain was tired from words I didn't understand.
When I reached my small home, I let myself inside and exhaled like I'd been holding my breath all day.
I set my bag down carefully and pulled out The Ethera Treatise on Miasma and Mutation.
I ran my fingers over the title, tracing the letters like I could learn them through touch.
Tomorrow… I'd try again.
Tomorrow… I'd read slower.
Tomorrow… I'd ask Mya questions if she'd still talk to me without turning red and sprinting away.
Tomorrow… I also needed to do something else.
Because the errand quests weren't enough.
Because my coin pouch was too light.
Because Nerissa's tavern token was a kindness, but kindness wasn't a plan.
I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the book in my hands, thinking about the wall rules.
Find an F-minus adventurer.
Someone willing to accompany a kid.
Someone willing to step outside for a gathering quest.
Someone who wouldn't ask too many questions.
Someone I could ask without looking desperate.
My eyes drifted to the sling, then to the book, then to the little empty space in my chest where Myrina's laughter used to sit.
I swallowed.
I didn't say her name.
I didn't let my thoughts go too far down that tunnel.
Instead I set the book beside my bed like a promise, lay down carefully so my ribs wouldn't scream, and stared up at the ceiling.
Outside, the city kept living.
Inside, I tried to rest.
And somewhere in the quiet, tomorrow began forming—slow and stubborn—whether I was ready or not.