The main hall buzzed with a rare energy. For once, it wasn't training orders or another mission being barked from the instructors, but something lighter. The Academy head stood at the front, voice carrying over the students.
"You've all earned a reprieve. Two weeks of leave. Return to your families, rest, and return sharper. Those who wish to remain may stay here. The Academy will provide food and housing."
The hall erupted in cheers, chatter rolling across the room. Students laughed, already talking about home meals, familiar beds, or the friends they'd see again. One by one, names and plans filled the air.
Kael didn't move.
He stayed in his seat, arms resting on his knees, letting the noise fade around him. Families. Homes. The words meant nothing to him. There was nowhere waiting, no one expecting his return. Orphaned, his only choice was the same cold stone halls of the Academy.
He let his gaze wander, and that's when he saw her.
Feyla.
She walked with her mother through the tall doors at the end of the hall. Her mother carried herself with the unmistakable grace of nobility, her hair tied back in a way that caught the light like water itself. Feyla glanced back over her shoulder just before stepping outside, her cheeks faintly pink.
For the first time, Kael wasn't sure if it was embarrassment or something else.
Her mother noticed the look, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "Ooh… and who is that boy?" she teased softly. "Your boyfriend?"
"M–Mother!" Feyla almost tripped on her own words, hands waving in protest. "No. No, of course not. I don't have time for boys."
Her voice was firm, but Kael saw the hesitation in her eyes. He caught it, the way she looked away a moment too quickly.
And then she was gone, swept away by her family.
The hall grew emptier by the minute as groups filtered out, leaving Kael sitting in silence among the rows of benches. His eyes lingered on the doorway where Feyla had vanished, then dropped to the floor.
He was alone.
But not entirely.
From the corner of his vision, Kael noticed someone still there. Jorin, leaning against the side of the great door, arms folded. The teacher's gaze was fixed on him, unreadable as always, though Kael caught it—a small nod.
It wasn't loud. It wasn't a command. Just a subtle gesture that said: Come with me.
Kael rose quietly, the last footsteps in the echoing hall, and crossed to Jorin. Without a word, Jorin turned and led him through the dim corridors. Their path wound past the classrooms, past the training arenas, until Kael realized they were heading somewhere he'd never been before.
At last, Jorin stopped at a thick iron door at the end of a narrow hall. He pressed his hand to the plate, unlocking it with a dull grind of gears, and pushed it open.
Inside, the air was warmer, heavy with the scent of metal and coal. The glow of forges lit the chamber in flickering orange, shadows leaping across racks of tools, half-finished blades, and workbenches lined with crystals and cores.
It wasn't just a workshop.
It was a private forging room.
Jorin stepped inside, his boots ringing on the stone floor, then turned back toward Kael. His voice, calm but edged with purpose, broke the silence.
"From here on, Kael… things will be different."