After taking a moment to breathe fully, Elwyn quickly changed Plan to stow his disguise, his pendant, and his belt buckle in his backpack and put his Academy bronze brooch back on, before heading toward the shopping district.

  His stride was calm, unhurried. He observed his surroundings, letting his gaze drift slowly over the fa?ades and the finely carved shop signs, until a polished copper sign caught his attention.

  “Koldren Stationery”

  The display window showed leather-bound notebooks, goose quills, finely decorated stylographs, bottles of colored ink, and several shimmering sheets of paper with a singular texture.

  Elwyn stepped inside and a little bell tinkled softly.

  Clink Clink

  The air smelled of ink, parchment, and fresh wax.

  “It feels like the Great Library…”

  Behind the counter, an old man with thick glasses lifted his head and greeted him warmly.

  — Welcome to my shop. Are you looking for something specific?

  — Yes, self-recording memory paper. Five sheets, please.

  — Excellent choice, sir. We even have it in several formats, the clerk replied with a nod.

  Elwyn studied the different sheet sizes for a moment.

  — I’ll take the book format.

  The clerk wrapped them carefully, as if they were made of glass, in thin paper and tied them with a golden thread.

  — It’s not common for young people to buy these. Most prefer flashier magical objects, or weapons to play at being adventurers.

  — I already have a weapon to defend myself, but I’d rather keep good memories close to me, Elwyn replied simply.

  He paid for his purchase, then lingered a moment to look at the showcases. His gaze fell on a stand of quills and stylograph nibs. One of them, in polished silver, caught his attention. It was slender, well-balanced, and engraved with a discreet pattern.

  — I’d also need a spare quill for my stylograph, and that one would be perfect, he said.

  The clerk smiled.

  — A sure taste. But that’s not for just any hands, nor any purse. Silver quills are beautiful, but fragile, and they bend easily. They’re used in high circles to sign important or symbolic documents. So I’d advise you to take one in a more common metal, better suited to daily use. I even have some with engravings.

  — I see… In that case, I’ll take one as you recommend.

  — Perfect.

  Elwyn nodded, paid for a steel quill with a discreet engraving, then packed everything into his backpack.

  When he stepped back outside, the harbor wind snapped the golden thread around the parcel, carrying a faint scent of ink and new parchment. He paused for a moment on the doorstep.

  Erana’s streets stretched out before him—alive, bright, filled with laughter and voices.

  He tightened his hand slightly around the small parcel.

  Today was his birthday, and he had just used part of the money Volden and Ophélia had sent him earlier for the occasion.

  _________________________

  Back on the main street, following the pale cobblestones that led toward Erana’s northern exit. The harbor gradually fell behind him, until he reached a wide space that served as a departure point for carriages and coaches connecting the city to the Academy.

  The coachman spotted him and greeted him with a gesture after noticing his bronze brooch.

  — Heading back to the Academy, sir?

  — Yes.

  The coach jolted gently along the paved road that wound between the hills. Through the half-open window, Elwyn let the landscape slip by. Tall grasses rippled under the sea wind, drawing shifting lines of gold and green.

  He closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the vehicle’s steady roll and the soothing rhythm of hooves on stone. Every return trip to the Academy gave him that same feeling of suspended calm, as if time, for an instant, belonged to him.

  On his knees rested the little parcel from the stationer. He held it in a distracted hand, his thumb tracing absently along the smooth golden cord, slightly warmed by the sun.

  Others might find it strange to spend birthday money on paper and a quill. But for him, writing, keeping a record, understanding the world—it was a way forward.

  The coachman snapped the reins, and the carriage took a gentle turn downhill. In the distance, the dome of Agnos’s Great Library began to take shape. Elwyn opened his eyes again, and the carriage reached the great stone arch marking the entrance to the grounds and came to a stop.

  The boy got down, thanked the coachman, and slung his bag over his shoulder before returning to the dormitory to drop off and hide his belongings, then put on his uniform before heading for the Great Library.

  Once settled on the terrace, he opened a treatise on blood transfusion. The first pages traced the history of experiments conducted on blood and the reactions observed during transfusions between individuals. The author proposed a new hypothesis: that blood was not identical for everyone, but divided into distinct groups, each defined by its own composition as well as by the individual’s species.

  Elwyn read the diagrams and marginal notes with care. The idea of compatibility and rejection came up again and again, supported by precise examples. Some lineages seemed to pass these traits on—proof of heredity still poorly understood.

  He closed the book for a moment, the wind lifting the pages around him. It was a text of rare rigor, trying to understand life with nothing but experimentation, observation, and logic.

  After a while, discreet footsteps climbed the stairs behind him.

  He immediately recognized Nahira’s calm voice.

  — I didn’t expect to see you again so soon.

  Elwyn looked up. Nahira stood at the top of the steps, a book in hand.

  — The road was clear. And besides… I’d finished what I had to do in town.

  She set her book on the table, tilting her head slightly.

  — You say that like you’re back from a secret mission.

  — Maybe… or maybe not, he replied lightly.

  Before he could add anything, other footsteps echoed in the stairwell.

  Sylaria appeared, looking slightly worried.

  — Hey, you haven’t seen Arimélia, have you? She left to get some air a while ago, and I haven’t heard from her.

  — I just got back, so I can’t help you, Elwyn replied.

  — And I haven’t seen her either, Nahira added.

  — Oh… I see…

  Elwyn lifted his eyes to the sky.

  The blue, pure and deep, was already warming.

  “Then maybe…”

  — I’ll try to see where she might be.

  — Do you have an idea? Nahira asked.

  Elwyn nodded.

  — I have one, but I can’t promise anything.

  He vanished into the Ethereal Plane and rose slowly into the air, carried by an ether platform he formed beneath his feet. He quickly reached the highest point in the area: the dome of the Great Library.

  When he reached the top, he shifted back to the Material Plane, reappearing silently in the golden clarity of a late afternoon.

  He noticed at once that an unmoving silhouette stood there, bathed in light.

  “Found her…”

  The half-dragon’s dark skin absorbed the heat with the softness of burning velvet, and each breath drew amber and copper highlights across her shoulders.

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  Her wings, vast and black as polished jet, threw back obsidian flashes, while her tail, stretched out at full length, undulated faintly to the rhythm of the wind.

  Elwyn approached without a sound, step light, and stopped a few meters away.

  — Are you sleeping? he asked softly.

  Arimélia slowly cracked one eye open.

  In front of her, a dark silhouette stood cut into the blinding sunlight. Surprise made her sit up sharply, her wings trembling in an instinctive reflex.

  — It’s okay, everything’s fine. It’s just me, the boy said at once in a soothing tone.

  — Elwyn? she asked, still a little confused.

  — Yes, it’s me. Princess Sylaria is looking for you. You were only supposed to have gone out for air, but you didn’t come back.

  Arimélia turned her head slowly. Her apple-green eyes opened halfway, still veiled by drowsiness and heat.

  — Oh… I see, she murmured in a soft voice. I didn’t see the time go by.

  She folded her wings gently against her back. The membranes quivered faintly under the breeze.

  Elwyn stayed at a distance, respecting her quiet.

  — Do you come here often? he asked.

  — When it’s hot… and I need silence… or space.

  Her fingers slid over the dome’s warm stone.

  — Up here, no one comes. You feel a little outside the world.

  Elwyn nodded.

  — I understand.

  She gave him a brief, uncertain look.

  — Don’t you find it strange?

  — No. Everyone looks for what they need in their own way.

  A timid smile brushed the half-dragon’s lips—fragile, almost surprised.

  — Yes… probably.

  The wind blew stronger at this height, lifting her black hair gently. Her wings, half-folded and half-open, shivered like two dark sails beneath a sky of gold.

  Elwyn took one more step and sat down beside her, only a few meters away. The stone vibrated faintly with the day’s heat. They stayed like that for a while, silent, lulled by the wind’s breath.

  — You just got back, didn’t you? she asked softly.

  — Less than an hour ago, yes.

  — Why so early? You could have come back for supper.

  Elwyn grew thoughtful for a moment, gaze turned toward the burning horizon.

  — I just went to buy something for my birthday, he replied simply.

  Arimélia stared, taken aback.

  — Your… birthday? Today?

  — Yes. Apparently it’s been twelve years.

  She blinked, caught off guard.

  — And… you didn’t tell anyone?

  — No. Why would I?

  She hesitated, fingers tightening on the fabric of her skirt.

  — Because… it’s important. I mean… it is for others, sometimes.

  Aware she’d tangled herself up, she looked away, cheeks faintly pink.

  — Anyway… happy birthday, Elwyn.

  The tone was awkward, hesitant, but sincere.

  Elwyn turned to her and bowed his head respectfully.

  — Thank you.

  The wind passed between them, lifting a few strands across Arimélia’s forehead.

  The sun was slowly sinking behind the sea.

  They stayed a while watching the sky turn red and gold. Light slid over the scales of her wings, making them shine like polished glass.

  — You never do things the way everyone else does, do you? the half-dragon remarked.

  — At the same time, I’m me, not everyone else.

  She gave a small laugh, barely audible.

  — That’s exactly what makes you hard to follow, she replied without malice.

  Their eyes met, a moment suspended. Arimélia felt warmth rise to her face and looked away, visibly flustered.

  — We should… go down, she finally said. Princess Sylaria will worry if she doesn’t see me come back.

  Elwyn nodded.

  — Let’s go.

  Arimélia rose slowly. Light slid over her wings, making the dark membranes vibrate with coppery flashes. She glanced at the edge of the dome, then at Elwyn.

  — There’s no staircase to go back down.

  — I know, he replied calmly.

  The half-dragon stepped to the ledge. The wind funneled there with greater force, lifting golden dust from the roof. Her wings unfolded with a deep rustle, wide and supple. The air seemed to bend to her movement at once.

  She turned to Elwyn, hesitant.

  — Do you want me to help you get down?

  — No. I can manage.

  He shifted into the Ethereal Plane and brought forth a disc of condensed ether beneath his feet. The air vibrated faintly, threaded with a light wave. The platform tilted, then began a slow, silent descent, following Elwyn’s will, while Arimélia spread her wings and dove on her side.

  Her wings beat in measured strokes, drawing broad black arabesques across the sky. Together, they slid along the curve of the dome. High-altitude winds blended with the evening warmth, spreading around them a feeling of suspension—almost unreality.

  Arimélia flew without effort, her body fitting each current like an extension of the wind itself. Beside her, Elwyn descended with a quiet steadiness, guided by the slow pulse of his ether platform.

  Below, the Great Library’s terrace cut into the twilight light. The stained glass still caught the last reflections of the sun, tinting the stone a deep rose.

  They touched down almost at the same time. Under Elwyn’s feet, the ether platform dissolved into a pale mist, and he returned to the Material Plane. Beside him, Arimélia slowly folded her wings, each movement filled with quiet grace.

  Sylaria waited below, leaning against the railing. She crossed her arms when she saw them arrive.

  — There you are at last. I was going to send Nahira and Loyd to look for you.

  — Sorry, Arimélia replied softly.

  — Where did you disappear to?

  Elwyn and Arimélia looked at each other for a moment.

  — We were just getting some air. You should try it—especially in this season. It’s relaxing, almost soporific, Elwyn replied, keeping the half-dragon’s secret.

  The princess turned to Arimélia, who offered her a small, embarrassed smile.

  — Fine. In that case, let’s go. Nahira and Loyd are on the terrace. They just wanted to enjoy the end of the afternoon.

  They followed her. The corridor along the glass bays smelled of warm paper and wax. A few students were still closing books, but most had already left.

  When they reached the terrace, they found Nahira leaning on the low table, a book half-open before her. Loyd, lounging on the railing, stirred a spoon in a cup.

  — You took your time, he called when he saw them.

  — The wind was nice, Elwyn replied simply.

  Nahira looked up.

  — As long as you’re here. The tea is still hot.

  They took their seats around the table. Evening air slid between the pillars, carrying scents of flowers and salt. Far off, the sea’s low rumble could be heard.

  Silence settled for a moment—quiet—until Loyd broke it in a relaxed voice.

  — So, Elwyn, how was town? You went off alone without telling anyone.

  — It went fine. I just had something to buy.

  — Something? Nahira repeated, curious.

  — Self-recording memory paper. And I also found a spare quill.

  Sylaria smiled, amused.

  — Others would have bought something more entertaining.

  Elwyn shrugged slightly.

  — They’re useful items.

  Loyd pretended to roll his eyes.

  — If you keep this up, we’re gonna start thinking you’re from the Domain of Boredom, with hobbies like that...

  Arimélia lowered her eyes, hiding a small smile.

  — He had a good reason to go, she interjected softly.

  Loyd raised an eyebrow.

  — Oh yeah? And what was the good reason?

  Elwyn stayed silent for a brief moment, gaze lost on the sky. Then he replied in his usual calm.

  — The weather was nice. And it was my birthday.

  Silence fell at once.

  Nahira stared, stunned.

  — Your birthday? Today?

  — Yes.

  Loyd straightened.

  — You’re kidding? And you didn’t say anything?

  — No.

  Sylaria looked at him, eyes a little wide, then let out a light laugh.

  — I think he just caught all of us off guard.

  — Happy birthday. Even if you didn’t plan on us knowing, Nahira said with a smile.

  — Thank you, Elwyn replied.

  Loyd lifted his cup.

  — Then, to your birthday—even if you do everything you can to make us forget it.

  — To your birthday, Sylaria added, copying him.

  Arimélia, a little late, lifted hers as well.

  — Happy birthday, Elwyn.

  Their cups clinked softly.

  The tea tasted gentle and floral. The sun, now low over the sea, wrapped the terrace in amber light. Shadows stretched across the stone, and their voices mingled with the rustle of wind.

  They talked a while longer. Loyd told a mishap involving one of his trainees during morning practice. Nahira mentioned a project for an electricity spell that could paralyze a target without injuring them. Sylaria joked about professors who didn’t know how to relax.

  Arimélia listened in silence, gaze lost on the horizon. Her tail swayed gently behind her chair, in time with the wind.

  Elwyn watched the sky. The light weakened; the clouds took on a violet tint. The air smelled of sea and warm stone.

  Calm—simple and perfect—spread around them.

  When the dinner bell rang, Nahira stacked the cups.

  — It’s getting late, she murmured.

  — Yes. We should hurry to the dining hall, Sylaria replied.

  They rose one by one. Loyd stretched long, then shot Elwyn a grin.

  — Next time, we’ll do it on time. You won’t get away from us two years in a row.

  — I don’t doubt it, Elwyn replied.

  Sylaria and Nahira left first, quickly joined by Loyd.

  Arimélia stayed a moment longer at the railing. The wind gently stirred her hair.

  Elwyn stepped up beside her.

  — Aren’t you coming to eat?

  — I am. I was just waiting for the wind to calm down.

  They remained silent for a few seconds, watching the evening glow fade behind the hills.

  — It’s strange... I like it when everything gets calm like this, she said softly.

  — It’s a good moment to listen to the world breathe, after all the day’s agitation.

  She turned her head toward him, hesitated, then smiled.

  — Shall we join the others?

  — I’m right behind you.

  They joined their friends in silence, enjoying the calm before the dining hall’s storm.

  Dinner ended in a light atmosphere, punctuated by quiet laughter and a few jokes.

  Elwyn then walked back up the corridor without haste, his steps echoing faintly on the stone floor. When he pushed open his bedroom door, silence welcomed his return.

  On the table, the stationery parcel was still waiting, carefully wrapped and ringed with its golden thread. He held it in his hands for a moment, observing the paper’s texture, the crisp fold of the corners, the light weight of the sheets inside. Then he set it gently beside his letter paper.

  He took off his jacket, loosened his blue tie, and undid his shirt collar before sitting on the edge of the bed. Through the half-open window, the twin moons drew two white streaks across the floor that trembled with the wind’s rhythm.

  Then he lay back, folding his arms behind his head, and spent a while staring at the ceiling. He inhaled deeply. Night air was cooler than the day had been, heavy with moisture and a distant scent of salt. His mind drifted to the day’s faces, the exchanged words, the simple laughter. Nothing extraordinary—yet everything felt right.

  The wind softened. And, in the silence, Elwyn fell peacefully asleep, carried by the world’s quiet breathing.