The evening settled over the academy like a soft curtain, drawing hues of amber and violet across the sprawling campus. Shadows stretched long over cobbled paths, and warm lanterns flickered awake, casting golden halos on the trimmed hedges and marble arches. Somewhere distant, a bell chimed the ninth hour, and a breeze rolled through, cool and scented faintly of parchment and polished wood.
Caden Starhaven walked with slow, uncertain steps, hands buried in the pockets of his academy-issued coat. The weight of Sandor's lesson still sat heavily in his mind—mysteries of paradoxes, echoes, and truth and lies twined like vines in his thoughts. But more than that, Sand's parting words echoed louder than any rune or magical theory:
"It's still early—why not explore the academy a bit? Get to know the place. Maybe even make a few friends."
Caden winced slightly at the memory. Easier said than done. Magic he could wrap his head around—sort of. But people? That was an entirely different paradox.
He followed a winding path until it opened into the academy's open training fields specially designed for combat type mages. The area stretched like a great stone courtyard, ringed with practice dummies, arcane sigils scorched into the grass, and obsidian platforms hovering a few inches above the ground for sparring duels. Despite the hour, the place still pulsed with quiet energy. Torches lit with ever-burning runes flickered along the edges, casting long shadows.
A few students remained.
One of them, a boy with unruly black hair and sleeves rolled to his elbows, was weaving a sequence of glowing runes into the air. The glyphs hovered, danced, then curled together in a stream, merging to form a shield-like arc of light. It flickered briefly before dissolving.
A short distance away, a girl sat cross-legged atop a bench, her platinum-blonde hair catching the lanternlight like spun silver. Her brows were furrowed, and her gaze was sharp.
"Too slow again, Revan," she called, smirking. "If a fireball came at you, you'd be toast. Literally."
"Maybe if you stopped distracting me with your relentless judgment, I'd have nailed it," the boy—Revan—shot back, grinning.
The girl snorted. "Excuses."
Caden hesitated at the edge of the field, then took a breath and stepped forward. "Hey," he called out, voice uncertain but audible. "Mind if I join you guys?"
Both heads turned.
Revan tilted his head. "You're… Starhaven, right? The new kid who got a personal tutor?"
"And got specifically picked by a professor in the academy," the girl added under her breath.
"Yeah," Caden said, rubbing his neck. "That's me."
"Who's your tutor kid?" Revan asked.
"Sand." Caden replied.
And then—freeze.
Revan's rune winked out in mid-air like a dying star, and the girl—whose smug smirk had just moments ago been unshakeable—went rigid.
"Wait—Sand?" Revan said. "You mean Sandor Everhart?"
Caden blinked. "Yeah. He's training me."
Revan dropped his wand. Literally. It clattered on the stone with a sharp clink.
"Are you kidding?" he said, half-laughing in disbelief. "You're telling us Sandor Everhart picked you?"
Lyra—the girl—looked like she'd been hit with a silent spell. "He hasn't taken a student in five years."
Revan leaned forward, eyes wide. "That guy's basically a myth. Do you have any idea how many students line up outside his door every year, just hoping he'll look at them?"
Caden shrugged uncomfortably. "He just… showed up near the gates of the academy and told me to follow him."
The two exchanged a stunned look.
Lyra finally spoke. "He's the strongest Contramancer in the entire academy. Maybe in the entire kingdom. Rumor is he created a stable Macro paradox of Time vs Space during the war with Primordia—and that it reversed an entire battlefield for thirty seconds. According to the recorded history, there were only two people who ever managed to stabilise the Space vs Time paradox and Sand was the third one."
"Not to mention," Revan added, "he helped write the modern theory on paradox crafting and even magic channeling. A lot of what we learn in second and third year? That's his stuff."
Caden's brain struggled to keep up. "He never said any of that."
"He wouldn't," Lyra muttered. "He doesn't care about fame. That's why everyone else does."
She stood, brushing her hands on her coat, and approached. "I'm Lyra. Second-year Contramancer."
"Revan. Channeler," said the boy, now grinning again.
Caden shook both their hands. Lyra's grip was firm—but something flickered in her eyes as their hands touched. A strange, unreadable emotion. A pinch of hesitation? A sliver of tension?
"What kind of magic do you use?" Revan asked curiously.
"Paradox magic, I mean I am also a Contramancer," Caden said. "I managed to form a micro paradox yesterday… on my second attempt."
The air stilled.
Lyra's head snapped toward him. "Second attempt?"
"Yeah," Caden said. "It was rough. The Echo Field nearly collapsed and managed to pull me in—but I held it together."
Revan gave a low whistle. "Damn. That's insane."
"Maybe… maybe he didn't just form the paradox. Maybe it responded to him," Lyra murmured to herself, "There's no way it responded to him right?"
Lyra, however, stepped back half a pace. Her expression didn't quite hide the shock behind her calm. "Some of us have been trying for years," she said quietly.
Caden winced. "Sorry. I didn't mean to brag. It just… happened."
"You're not bragging," Revan said quickly. "You're just apparently absurdly talented."
Lyra looked away, arms folding. "Two years. I've tried forming a stable paradox for two years and still haven't gotten past theoretical stage."
Caden opened his mouth, then closed it.
The silence grew awkward.
Revan broke it. "Well, you're in now. Might as well sit with us."
They all took a seat on the edge of the training field—on a stone bench that overlooked the whole grounds. The chill of the night pressed lightly against their coats, but the bench still held lingering warmth from the day's sun.
"Where are you from?" Revan asked.
"I came from a village located west of our country. It's on the foothold of the frozen volcano Azkaroth," Caden said.
Lyra's head tilted. "Wait I have heard about that volcano! Isn't it outside the capital zone?"
Caden nodded. "Way outside. Grew up there. Parents died few months ago. Then I was taken in by my uncle Arthur Starhaven who chose to be my legal guardian and then I came here to study magic."
Neither Revan nor Lyra spoke for a beat. Then Lyra said, her voice softer, "That must've been hard."
Caden shrugged, eyes fixed on the dark sky. "It was quiet. But I'm used to quiet. I guess if it wasn't for my kind uncle and Celestine, I wouldn't have been here."
The three sat in silence for a while, their breath visible in the crisp air. Overhead, stars pushed through the dusk, and the moon hung pale and immense like a watching eye.
"So," Revan said, voice lighter now, "Sand's really training you? That's nuts. He once rejected the entire graduating batch."
"I didn't even ask him to," Caden muttered. "He said I 'smelled like a contradiction.' Whatever that means. When I came here, I thought I will be sitting in class with people like you and of my age but Sand said that he will be training me alone."
Lyra actually laughed—a dry, musical sound. "That sounds exactly like him."
She added, "We have a weird rule in this academy that if the professors with their keen eyes can find someone like you, a prodigy then they can offer an appeal to the Headmaster of the academy to personal tutor that prodigy. That's probably what happened with you."
Revan grinned. "Did you know that there's a rumor that Sand once cast a paradox so large it made a royal inspector forget why he came to the academy?"
"I hope that's true," Lyra muttered.
Caden smiled faintly. "So, you're a Contramancer too?"
Lyra nodded. "Yeah. At least, trying to be. Contramancy is more temperamental than Channeling. I specialize in logical paradoxes, but emotional ones? Those are volatile."
Revan chuckled. "That's why I stick with Channeling. Clean, direct, and flashy."
"What kind of elements can you use, Revan?" Caden asked.
Grinning wide with pride, Revan replied, "All elements. Though I am a bit weak at light magic but I am solid with the rest."
Caden stared at Revan with a straight face, "So you must be the strongest channeler here, right?" he said.
"Hey! What do you mean strongest channeler? I am the strongest magic user here." said Revan with his head high and mighty.
Both Lyra and Caden shared a look for a few seconds and burst out laughing as Revan stared in disbelief.
They slipped into easy conversation after that—about annoying professors, the best spots to nap, how the mess hall always ran out of spiced bread by noon. Lyra told a story about a student who accidentally looped time in the shower room. Revan nearly choked trying to imitate the sound of the academy's crow-like familiar, Gorrick.
Caden laughed more in that one hour than he had in months.
Eventually, the moon rose high. Its silver light blanketed the field, and the torches began to dim, sensing curfew approaching.
They sat quietly again, shoulders barely brushing, gazes drawn to the night sky.
"It's kind of beautiful," Lyra murmured. "The moonlight."
"Everything looks less terrible under it," Revan said.
Caden stared upward, voice soft. "I always thought the stars looked lonely. But tonight… they feel closer."
Neither of them responded—but both looked his way.
Lyra stood, brushing imaginary dust from her uniform. "We should get going. First lecture starts early."
"Yeah," Revan added, stretching with a groan. "And if we're late, Professor Nelthorne will rewire our neurons."
The three began walking back along the path together, the breeze tugging playfully at their sleeves.
Just before they split ways, Caden paused. "Hey… thanks. For tonight."
Lyra turned, her expression unreadable but gentler now. "Don't let it get to your head, Starhaven."
Revan grinned. "Welcome to the madness."
And with that, they disappeared into the winding corridors of the academy, their footsteps fading.
Caden lingered a moment longer beneath the sky, moonlight brushing his face like a promise.
For the first time since his village burned down and he was left alone, he didn't feel like a visitor in someone else's story.
He felt… present.
He felt like he belonged.