The courtyard had begun to empty as the sun dipped low, long shadows stretching across the stone paths. Small groups of students lingered, their voices softened by the approaching evening.
Elior, Kael, and Aevrin stood slightly apart from the others, the professor's words from earlier still hanging between them.
"So," Elior said at last, breaking the quiet, "about the assignment."
Aevrin glanced at him, relaxed. Kael waited.
"I think," Elior continued carefully, "we shouldn't start with practice right away. Group magic isn't something we can just… test without understanding each other first."
Kael nodded. "Discussion comes before casting."
"Exactly," Elior said, a trace of relief in his voice. "We need to talk about how we'll proceed—what kind of construct, how our magic might interact, what to avoid."
Aevrin smiled faintly. "Planning before chaos. Sensible."
Elior hesitated, then added, "And for that, we'll need a place where we can talk freely. Somewhere it won't look like a secret meeting, but where no one will overhear us either."
Kael tilted his head slightly. "Do you have something in mind?"
"There's a restaurant near the academy district," Elior said. "It has private rooms, but it's still public enough not to draw attention. We can talk normally without worrying about wards or curious ears."
Aevrin considered it for a moment, then nodded. "That works."
Kael agreed as well. "Better than staying inside the academy."
Elior relaxed a little. "Then… tomorrow evening? After classes?"
"What time?" Aevrin asked.
"An hour before sunset," Elior replied. "That way we won't have to rush."
Kael nodded once. "I'll be there."
"So will I," Aevrin said lightly.
The plan settled easily between them.
"I'll see you both tomorrow, then," Elior said, offering a small smile.
They parted soon after—Elior toward the dormitories, Kael toward his quarters, Aevrin disappearing down another path—each carrying the same simple thought.
Tomorrow, they would begin.
Unaware that even this quiet decision echoed something already lived.
Elior arrived first.
The restaurant sat tucked between two older stone buildings, warm amber light spilling gently onto the evening street. It wasn't loud or extravagant—just refined enough to attract academy elites who preferred discretion over display. Elior had chosen it carefully.
When Kael stepped inside, the atmosphere shifted.
He hadn't done anything—no sharp glance, no deliberate posture—but his presence alone drew attention. Conversations softened. A few heads turned. Somewhere near the counter, a group of staff whispered, barely hiding their curiosity.
"…handsome," one of them murmured.
Aevrin followed moments later, effortless grace and faint amusement in his expression, as if he'd already noticed the whispers and found them entertaining.
"Oh," someone breathed. "Another one."
Elior stood to greet them, offering a polite smile.
The whispers changed tone.
"Cute," a young server said, smiling without realizing it.
Elior flushed, ears warming, and gestured quickly toward the back. "I've already arranged a private room," he said gently. "This way."
Kael noticed everything.
The way Elior walked half a step ahead, instinctively guiding them. The way he thanked the staff. The way the light softened his expression.
Something tugged at Kael's chest.
Not a memory—
not yet.
Just a familiar sensation, unplaced, like an echo he had chosen to forget.
The private room was simple: a low table, soft lighting, faintly glowing runes along the walls for privacy. The door slid shut, sealing them away from the world.
For a heartbeat, the silence felt intimate.
"Well," Aevrin said lightly as he took a seat, "our dear Elior has excellent taste."
Elior smiled, relieved. "I thought it would be easier to talk here."
Kael sat across from him, composed—but his gaze lingered a second too long.
Across a table like this.
In a room like this.
Magic shared. Quiet. Close.
The feeling deepened—unsettling, warm.
Kael looked away.
The past did not return yet.
But it had begun to knock.
The private room was quiet again after the dishes were cleared.
Elior folded his hands on the table, hesitating only briefly. "So… about the group assignment."
Kael looked at him. Aevrin's attention sharpened.
"Let's start properly," Elior said. "What are we really meant to create?"
"A construct," Kael replied. "But not one built on power."
Aevrin tilted his head. "One built on response."
Elior nodded slowly. "Something that reacts to us. Not something we control."
"Yes," Kael said. The word felt heavier than it should have.
"Then why three people?" Elior asked. "They could've tested us alone."
"Because solo magic hides flaws," Aevrin replied lightly. "Group magic exposes them."
"And compatibility," Kael added. "Whether magic can coexist without resistance."
Elior considered that. "So it's not about winning."
"No," Kael said quietly. "It's about alignment."
The word lingered, sending a faint thrill through the room.
"Then how do we combine our magic without collapse?" Elior asked.
Kael paused. "We don't start by combining. We let the magic recognize each other first."
Aevrin smiled knowingly. "Introductions."
"Awareness before merging," Elior murmured.
"Yes."
The room felt warmer.
"Then who leads?" Elior asked.
Aevrin shrugged. "Leadership might shift."
Kael's gaze drifted. "Or dissolve."
"And when do we start?" Elior asked.
"As soon as possible," Kael replied. "Before overthinking interferes."
"You sound eager," Aevrin noted.
Kael didn't respond.
"And where?" Elior asked at last.
"Not inside the academy," Kael said suddenly.
"Too many layers," he added when Elior looked at him. "Too much interference."
"Then somewhere open," Aevrin said softly. "High."
"There's a mountain ridge north of the city," Elior said slowly. "Five or six miles out. Just stone, wind, and sky."
Kael's fingers curled.
A ridge.
Wind.
Sky.
"That place," Kael said quietly, "will accept a construct."
Aevrin studied him. "You're very sure."
"I don't know why," Kael replied. "But I am."
Elior smiled—nervous, excited. "Then tomorrow, we go there."
The decision settled between them.
They weren't choosing the place.
The place had already chosen them.
Sleep took Kael without resistance.
He didn't dream of the academy.
He stood beneath an open sky.
Wind moved across stone, familiar and cold. The ridge stretched before him—vast, silent, waiting. He knew this place.
Not from memory.
From recognition.
Faint lines glowed beneath his feet, responding when he moved.
"Come."
The voice was quiet. Internal.
A figure stood ahead, back turned, hair stirred by the wind. Too familiar to be a stranger. Too distant to be himself.
"Why?" Kael asked.
"Because you left this unfinished."
Fragments surfaced—hands aligning, mana flowing without resistance, laughter softened by focus. A construct forming through understanding, not force.
Then the sky fractured.
"You failed," the voice said gently. "So you were given time."
"Time for what?"
"To return. To remember how you worked together."
Light flared at Kael's feet.
"Go there," the voice whispered. "Let the place speak before you do."
The figure dissolved into wind.
Kael woke sharply, heart racing, palms warm.
The room was dark.
But the pull remained.
The mountain ridge was not just a location.
It was a threshold.
And it was calling him back.
—by Aurea;"The place does not wait for us. It remembers. It calls. And we must answer."