The courtyard had long since emptied. Echoes of boots and chatter faded into the sprawling stone corridors of the Academy, replaced by the low hum of arcane wards thrumming in the walls. The Hayes siblings lingered near one of the ivy-wrapped balconies overlooking the lake, the sky painted with soft lavender dusk.
That was when she arrived.
Freya Hayes didn't need to announce herself. Her presence filled the space like cold wind before a storm.
"Children."
Logan straightened almost on instinct, while Lilliana rolled her eyes but stood taller. Caleb didn't move.
Freya's heels clicked slowly as she approached, hands folded neatly behind her back. Her silver-threaded cloak shimmered faintly in the twilight.
"You looked… acceptable during the address," she said, her eyes landing on each of them with a measured gaze. "Even you, Logan."
"Aww, Mom," Logan grinned, "you really know how to flatter a guy."
Freya ignored the remark and turned to Lilliana. "And I hear you placed first in Elemental Recombination. Impressive."
Lilliana smirked. "Obviously."
Then came the pause. A breath too long. She turned her eyes to Caleb.
"And you?" she asked coolly.
Caleb met her gaze without a flicker of emotion. "Fine."
"Fine," she repeated, tilting her head. "Still… hiding in plain sight, I see."
The silence that followed was sharp.
Lilliana glanced between them, shifting awkwardly. Logan looked like he wanted to be anywhere else.
"I'm not hiding," Caleb said, voice even. "I'm choosing."
Freya's brows rose. "Choosing? Is that what we're calling complacency now?"
"That's what we're calling control."
There it was—that thin line of tension that always seemed to stretch too tightly between the two. Not quite snapping, but always humming with potential energy.
Freya's tone stayed mild. "You were gifted for a reason, Caleb. That kind of power—"
"—isn't yours to parade," he interrupted, jaw tightening. "Not like you tried to before I was ready."
The air thinned between them.
"Sometimes readiness is a luxury we don't get," Freya said, her voice softer now but no less firm. "This world doesn't wait for you to feel safe. Especially you."
Caleb looked away.
Logan cleared his throat, stepping between them with forced cheer. "So, how about that new dining hall renovation, huh? Chairs that don't collapse under summoned dragons? Groundbreaking stuff."
Lilliana gave him a grateful look.
Freya studied Caleb for a long, unreadable moment. Then, in a tone far more maternal than commanding, she said quietly, "I'm not your enemy, Caleb."
He didn't respond.
She nodded once, then turned on her heel. "Dinner is in one hour. Try to arrive as a unit, for once."
And with that, she swept away, leaving the air colder than before.
For a few seconds, none of them spoke.
Then Lilliana sighed. "Gods, family dinners are going to be fun this year."
Caleb leaned against the balcony railing, his expression unreadable as ever.
Mason's voice floated in from behind. "So… do I need to bring snacks to these showdowns, or?"
Logan groaned. "You heard all of that?"
Mason smirked. "Heard it? I felt it. I'm pretty sure her glare burned a hole in reality."
Lilliana laughed. Even Caleb cracked a tiny smile.
And just like that, the storm passed—for now.
The grand dining room of the Hayes estate within the Academy's private wing was a cathedral of silence and luxury. High-arched windows cast soft moonlight over an impossibly long obsidian table, set for five.
The chandelier above, a delicate sprawl of arcane-lit crystals, flickered like frozen stars, bathing everything in a cold, silver sheen.
Logan slumped into a chair with an exaggerated sigh. "How formal do we have to be tonight? Like 'pass the salt, Your Majesty' level or just 'please don't stab anyone' level?"
"You ask that every time," Lilliana muttered, adjusting the cuffs of her deep violet sleeves. "And somehow still manage to break at least one glass."
"I'm just trying to add drama."
"You are the drama."
Before Logan could retort, the heavy oak doors opened with a soft creak. A figure stepped in—not tall, but commanding, every movement radiating control and precision. Raven-black hair combed neatly back. Not a single wrinkle in sight on the silver and black uniform he wore. Dark eyes, sharper than any blade in the room.
Alexander Hayes.
Their father.
"Children," he greeted with a clipped nod, taking his place at the head of the table. "Let's not waste time."
"Always a pleasure, Father," Logan muttered under his breath.
Caleb remained silent. He hadn't looked at either parent since he'd walked in.
Freya followed a moment later, composed as always, and sat opposite Alexander without a word. The air between them felt formal—but not cold. This was how they'd always been. Powerfully aligned. Unyielding. Unshaken.
Until they both looked at Caleb.
"I understand your professors still haven't received full access to your combat results," Alexander said, pouring himself a glass of dark wine. "There's talk you're underperforming."
"I'm doing fine," Caleb replied coolly.
"Fine is a word for the unremarkable," Alexander said, not raising his voice. "You were meant to lead."
"I didn't ask for that."
"You didn't need to."
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Logan pushed a bread roll into his mouth to avoid getting involved. Lilliana took a sip of her wine and stared out the window, pretending the stars were suddenly fascinating.
Freya, calm and collected, added, "It's not just about the Academy, Caleb. It's about what comes after. This family—our name—it carries weight. You've always known that."
"I'm not interested in being a symbol," Caleb replied. "Or your weapon."
Alexander's face remained unreadable. "Then what are you interested in?"
"I don't know. Figuring that out without pressure might be a start."
The quiet that followed wasn't filled with judgment—it was worse. It was filled with expectation. The kind that weighs down shoulders until you can't stand straight anymore.
Lilliana coughed into her wine.
Logan, never one for uncomfortable silence, leaned back. "So, uh… anyone else notice how dramatic the combat professor's hatred for Caleb is?"
Caleb blinked, grateful for the shift. "I breathe near him, and the man looks like he's swallowing nails."
"I said 'good morning' and he glared at me," Logan said. "I'm not even the problem."
"You just exist too loudly," Lilliana offered.
Logan snapped his fingers. "Exactly."
Alexander gave them a blank look but said nothing.
Freya's eyes flicked to Caleb briefly. "You don't need to antagonize people, even silently. Your silence is... louder than you think."
"I'm not trying to antagonize anyone," Caleb said, shrugging. "People just assume things."
"You are intimidating," Logan said. "Even when you're being polite."
"Literally earlier today," Lilliana added, smirking, "Caleb bumped into that poor nerd in the hallway—didn't even say anything threatening—and the guy ran like he'd just been cursed."
"I said 'but,'" Caleb muttered.
Logan burst out laughing. "Exactly! That's the most harmless thing you've ever said—and he looked like he saw death in person."
"Maybe I should just wear a shirt that says 'Not Here to Kill You,'" Caleb deadpanned.
"You'd still scare people," Lilliana said.
The table softened for a moment. Laughter flowed just enough to wash away the edge from earlier.
Still, Freya and Alexander exchanged a brief glance.
Alexander stood first. "We'll continue this another time."
Freya followed silently, pausing at the door. "Rest well. Training resumes at dawn."
They left the room like shadows—quiet, composed, unsettling.
Once gone, Logan slumped forward. "So, whose idea was this family dinner thing again?"
Lilliana stood, grabbing her glass. "You. It was literally your idea."
"Regret. So much regret."
Caleb remained seated a moment longer, staring at his untouched glass of water.
Whatever came next—classes, expectations, unwanted attention—he knew one thing:
There was always more going on at this table than what was said out loud.