"Glad to see you're studious, snow girl." — Varis's voice invaded the space, low, as if she didn't want to alert anyone.

  "Professor Varis," — My fingers still rested on the notebook — "Sorry, I didn't see you there."

  "It's fine, I should be the one apologizing for interrupting your session. What are you studying?"

  The question was asked with a light tone, but it was unlikely she hadn't noticed the book titles on the table. She pulled an empty chair and sat down in front of me, without ceremony, as if this were a meeting table and not an isolated corner of the library.

  Answering anything other than teleportation and ancient languages results in an atypical expression from Varis. Trying to change the subject results in prolonged silence...

  "In addition to the class content, I was researching teleportation and languages."

  "Fundamentals of Instantaneous Displacement. Heavy reading for a first-year student." — A small smile appeared. — "If you have questions, I'd be glad to help."

  "I do, actually," I admitted, taking advantage of the opening. The book was dense, and a direct explanation would save hours of confusion. "The book says teleportation is restricted to users with Pure Mana affinity. Why? Why can't other affinities do the same, if in the end they all manipulate mana?"

  "That's a good question, one that touches the core of the difference between affinities," she began, her voice taking on a more professorial tone, but still low, confidential. "Think of it this way: all elemental affinities are tools. Specific means of interacting with and altering matter through mana."

  "Fire, for example," she raised her index finger, and a small flame sprouted at the tip, hovering like a candle flame. "It's not creating the 'concept' of fire from nothing. It's a transformation. I saturate a portion of mana with a very specific intention, and the environment responds. Ice is the opposite."

  She looked at me, ensuring I was following.

  "Now, people born with an affinity for Pure Mana..." she made a dramatic, almost imperceptible pause. "They don't receive a specialized form. The difference lies in how each affinity interacts with the world."

  To illustrate, the flame hovering above her finger began to take another shape: a small figure that resembled a sword.

  "My affinity," she said, observing the dagger of radiant heat, "transforms mana into thermal energy. I can shape this energy, concentrate it, give it an almost solid form... but at its core, it's still heat. If I release it, it dissipates, warms the air."

  "Everything you know in the world is formed by mana," Varis's voice lowered even more, laden with meaning. "A grain of sand, a stone, a plant, the furniture you use, even a living organism."

  She closed her hand, and the dagger dissolved into a swirl of hot air that soon settled.

  "Someone with a Pure Mana affinity, with sufficiently high mastery," Varis's voice dropped even lower, laden with meaning, "wouldn't create a dagger of concentrated heat. They would look at all the necessary components and..."

  "A real sword..." — My voice cut Varis off.

  "Exactly." — She nodded. — "From the wooden hilt to the steel blade."

  The silence that followed wasn't empty. It was full of the weight of that explanation. I looked at the book on teleportation, and suddenly, the restriction made terrifying sense.

  "So teleportation..." I began, trying to articulate the thought.

  "Is one of the most complex reorganizations imaginable," Varis completed, her gaze intense. "It's not about painting you from one place to another. It's about undoing all of your matter here and remaking it there, perfectly."

  She leaned back in the chair, the air around her seeming to return to normal, as if the explanation itself had consumed a subtle energy.

  "So, if this affinity manipulates the environment on that level..." I asked, my voice more restrained now, "wouldn't that make it superior to all others? In a practical sense, I mean. Couldn't it simply... generate any other element?"

  "It's entirely possible." — She replied without hesitation.

  "Then..." — I forced myself to stop, not proceeding with the question. I had already read about that moments before.

  "You really are different," Varis seemed to recognize something in my pause. "As you might have thought, there's a difference between knowing and being. I am fire. When I channel mana, I'm not thinking about formulas. I'm expressing a fundamental part of who I am to the world. The transformation happens intuitively. It's an extension of my mana."

  "A Pure Mana user, to generate a sphere like the one I make with a simple externalization of mana, would have to understand and command every step of the combustion reaction. In short: It's an inefficient expenditure of energy and almost impractical in some situations."

  "And how does this 'externalization' actually work? For a mana affinity? If it doesn't have a ready element, how does intention become effect in the world?"

  Varis observed me for a long second. Her small smile returned, but this time there was a different approval in it, less teacher-to-student, and more one scholar recognizing another.

  "An excellent question, snow girl." — She slightly raised her hand, as if to calm the question. — "But that's a question that delves into the deep waters of fundamental magical theory. It's not the moment."

  She made a significant pause, her gaze sweeping the shelves around.

  "If this is a path that interests you to explore, the library is your ally. But I'll say in advance it won't be a simple task; that's the reason there are entire aisles dedicated to each of the six main affinities."

  I nodded, assimilating the information. "I'll look into that another time."

  hesitated for a fraction of a second, but the question was inevitable, the missing piece to understanding this encounter that was too casual to be casual.

  "So," — my voice became even lower, almost a whisper that got lost in the vast silence of the library — "you're here because of the interrogation?"

  Varis averted her gaze to the side, as if examining something fascinating on an empty shelf. Her lips pressed together in a quick pout.

  "Was it that obvious?" — the question came out with a tiny tremor in her voice, a clear (and somewhat clumsy) attempt to sound casual that failed miserably.

  The expression, the tone… it was like seeing an adult, disconcerted version of Katia trying to pretend she hadn't broken a vase. The resemblance was so unexpected that for an instant I nearly broke my own composure.

  She seemed to notice the slip. She blinked quickly, straightened her shoulders in the chair, and cleared her throat softly, the professional returning to her face like armor being put on.

  "I mean," she corrected, her voice regaining its controlled cadence, but a bit drier, "it's not really an 'interrogation.' The Academy is conducting a fact-finding inquiry. An incident of that magnitude requires us to gather as much information as possible from all sources. To understand and ensure it doesn't happen again."

  "I didn't mean to sound like you were forcing me into anything," I said, trying to keep my voice as neutral as possible. "I understand. You're just doing your job. And after what happened… it makes sense the school wants answers."

  The relief that passed over Varis's face was subtle, but visible. Her shoulders relaxed a millimeter, and the tension in her jaw lessened.

  "Thank you for understanding, Phoenicis," she replied, and the gratitude sounded genuine. "It's a delicate time for everyone."

  "So, if you don't mind… let's start from the beginning. From your point of view. What happened, from the moment the ground vanished? Everything you can remember."

  "We were all gathered around the artifact that Dennar was holding. There was a debate about which element to use to activate it…"

  I described everything I remembered, avoiding any mention of the statue corridor or the abyssal city. It was the version that aligned with what the others should have seen, up to a point.

  "I see," Varis crossed her arms. "This aligns with the main points of the other testimonies. But according to Elian's account, you separated the group by drawing the larger monster to another part of the chamber, correct?"

  "Correct."

  "Can you share details about that monster?" — She raised her hands, waving them repeatedly. — "But I'm not asking about a possible fight or anything like that, I just want details about the creature's behavior."

  Makes sense. I don't think there's any reason to hide anything on this point.

  "I'd estimate three meters in height; the body was disproportionate, from the legs to the head. The skin was gray, with spiral patterns that looked like scars. But if there's something to highlight, it was regeneration and intelligence."

  Varis tilted her head to the side, hesitating for a second before answering. "Intelligence? Like ours?"

  A chill, sudden and involuntary, ran through my body.

  "No, I'd say it was a type of adaptation. After failing a few times, it produced countermeasures for specific situations."

  "Do you have an example?"

  I briefly recapped the sequence: the creature starting with physical attacks, developing ranged projectiles in response to my distancing, and then its most radical strategy change when Katia entered the fight.

  Varis averted her gaze to the floor, taking a bit longer to respond. "Okay, I believe that's enough information."

  Now… What should I do with the next question? If I answer that nothing happened, I'll need to maintain my response pattern unchanged. Any variation will be a signal.

  "Between the moment my attack pierced the chamber's ceiling and the moment you walked back, coming from a side tunnel, what happened?"

  Unconsciousness: Eyes narrow for a second. About the corridor: Surprise reaction… Not enough visualization time to test Varis's complete response. I'll have to improvise.

  "I lost consciousness momentarily," I said, my voice deliberately flat, as if reporting a clinical fact. "But I don't know for how long. That's why I can't guarantee a precise timeline."

  "What was the place where you were like?" — She asked instantly.

  "I appeared to be in a tunnel system," I replied without hesitation. "About the structure… It remained undamaged."

  Varis paused again, the silence screaming in the space. "Given that you lost consciousness, there isn't much to report about how you arrived at this system," she concluded. "How did you find your way back?"

  "I went through several tunnels. But at a certain point… something seemed out of place."

  "The air became different… Let me think of a good example, it was like I was passing through a curtain."

  Varis lifted her eyes, to a point above my head. Her face softened for an instant in a thoughtful expression, almost recognizing something.

  Was that the answer she wanted? — The question struck against my mind; even the safest of futures couldn't guarantee me the right answer.

  "I understand," she said, her voice softer than at any point in the conversation. "I think that's enough for today."

  From the perspective of someone a few seconds ahead, Varis's next action was disconcerting. Disconnected from everything that came before.

  Why? — The harsh sound of the chair being pushed back. The sudden movement of her standing up. The step forward. A precise inclination of the waist. Rigid posture. Arms glued to the body.

  "Phoenicis," her voice came, a bit muffled by the position, but clear and laden with a tone I'd never heard from her before. It was rough around the edges. "I am so sorry."

  "The fact that you're here… doesn't erase my mistake. If things had been a little different, I would have done something irreversible."

  "If things had been a little different…" — Those words hung in the air, more specifically within me. If I hadn't hit that arrow in the creature's eye, or if Elian hadn't provided the necessary support… How would Katia be now?

  A slight smile emerged, more relief than joy. Not for Varis to see, but for myself. To mark the passage of the weight.

  "Professor Varis," my voice came out soft, but firm, cutting through the silence she had left. "I don't know what happened, and therefore, I'm not in a position to judge you. But I believe you made that decision for a reason. And either way, if you hadn't acted, the most likely outcome is that the incident would have been much larger."

  Varis remained motionless for a long second after my words. Then, something strange happened. Her eyes, previously laden with oppressive gravity, lit up with a glimmer of genuine surprise.

  "You really are an unusual person," she said, the remnant of a smile still touching her lips, but not reaching her eyes, which were now serious again.

  She slowly shook her head, as if clearing herself of the momentary lightness.

  "And maybe you're right. As the instructor, responsible for the group's safety in the field, my decision to force an entry at any cost may have been the correct one. The end justified the risky means. Let's say that in this case, I was 'right.'"

  She took a step back, her posture losing its military rigidity but gaining a different solemnity.

  "But that's where logic fails, snow girl." — Her voice became softer, almost professorial again, but teaching a different lesson. — "Because I wasn't just an instructor at that moment. I was a person. And as a person, I failed."

  "Not everything can be summed up as having 'reasons' or a logic for acting," she continued, her voice a thread of serious sound in the library's silence. "Sometimes, doing the 'right' thing to do… can at the same time, be the wrong thing. And the opposite is also valid. In the end, what matters is how we choose to deal with the consequences we carry afterwards."

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Varis laughed then, a lighter sound, dissipating the serious weight of the moment.

  "Oh, I gave an unnecessary sermon, sorry, that wasn't the intention," she said, raising her hands in surrender. "But someone as smart as you will make good use of these words, even if not now."

  "I can't say I understood completely," I admitted, slightly furrowing my brow. "But I think this might help me solve another problem."

  "Great," she replied, the smile still stamped on her face. "Then my mission here is accomplished in more ways than one. Take care."

  She turned and took a few steps toward the exit, then stopped immediately. With quick, silent steps, she covered the distance back to the table in an instant, leaning over it.

  "But then…" — her eyes sparkled with pure investigative curiosity now, all previous solemnity evaporated — "is it really true? That you fought that thing without using a drop of elemental mag—"

  "Absolutely not," — The words came out before she could finish.

  "Stingy," she spat the word with a sarcastic tone.

  And, without giving another response, she straightened up, turned around, and walked out of the library, her trail of scarlet hair disappearing among the shelves.

  "I think it's time to go back."

  I stretched in the chair, feeling my back muscles protest slightly after so long immobile. My eyes found the wall clock at the back of the hall. The hand had moved more than I expected.

  With a lament that came from my lungs, laden with fatigue, I began gathering my belongings.

  "I'll stop by the cafeteria… Ah, Katia said that if she wasn't delayed, she'd come meet me. I hope we don't miss each other."

  I walked back to the shelves, returning the books to their exact places. When the book on teleportation clicked into place, Varis's words came to mind.

  "One aisle for each elemental affinity? Seems like a lot. But if there are only six, is there a specific section for me or Lira?"

  A quick conversation with the librarian, and I was already on my way to the cafeteria.

  The main hallway of the academic wing stretched before me. It was the same as always: light stone walls, tall windows letting in the late afternoon light, the distant sound of voices and footsteps from other rooms, the characteristic smell of cold water and a touch of damp grass from the gardens.

  My gaze was fixed on the regular pattern of the floor stones. My body moved on pure autopilot, guided not by sight but by future-touch — a faint perception of a shadow to the left, an emptiness to the right, the path opening two steps ahead.

  I dodged a group of animated students, skirted a pile of books left on a bench, and sidestepped a hurried monitor, all without lifting my head. My physical world was a blurred periphery; the center of my attention was within, in a whirlwind of thoughts that wouldn't stop spinning.

  When did I write those notes? I can't remember… The handwriting was mine, but how would I write something I can't even read? Should I ask for an examination? But then I'd have to tell them about the city…

  The problem with not wanting to share is not knowing how important it is. How do I tell people I don't know that I saw a city floating in the middle of the void and that I started hearing voices after picking a flower?

  … Maybe I should tell Katia. She's lived in this world longer than I have. But what about her reaction? I doubt she wouldn't believe me, but maybe she'd worry too much.

  I stopped for a second, finally lifting my eyes from the floor. The late afternoon sunlight painted the tables in a melancholic red.

  "Do you think they have cake at the cafeteria today?" — The question came out without a destination, carried by the cafeteria air.

  "Do you always talk to yourself like that?" — The voice came from behind and a little to the left, neutral, without judgment, just observation.

  I turned toward the source of the voice. "Wait, that's not normal? Maybe I need to rethink my habits…"

  He was silent for a moment, pondering my response.

  "… It is normal, yes," Elian replied, crossing his fingers under his chin. "But people usually react with a bit more shame when they're caught like that."

  I made a theatrical pause, letting the silence hang for a second longer than socially comfortable. Then, I raised a hand to partially cover my face, turning my head to the side in an exaggerated gesture of embarrassment.

  "Oh…" I drawled out the vowel. "In that case… I don't talk to myself, no. It was a… hallway echo effect. Yes."

  I lowered my hand enough to peek at his reaction. His wide-eyed expression showed complete disapproval, as if I had stepped on a cat's tail.

  "That was a joke," I corrected, returning my tone and expression to normal.

  "Forget it," He slowly shook his head, as if trying to calibrate his perception of reality. "Do you prefer the food here or at the dormitory?"

  "Not exactly, I was at the library. The cafeteria here was closer, and I thought I might find Katia here."

  Elian reacted to Katia's name, but his eyes averted for a second, as if losing focus. He whispered something so low it was just syllables blown into the air, something like: "chocolates and bets…" I couldn't catch the rest.

  "Well, since we're here, want to get some coffee?" he suggested, with a casual gesture toward the cafeteria hall. "It's surprisingly good here. And I promise no more comments about talking echoes."

  "Alright," I agreed with a small nod. "No more comments about talking echoes."

  In a now less awkward silence, we headed to the cafeteria counter. The attendant, a middle-aged woman with an immaculate apron, looked at us with a tired but friendly expression.

  "For me, a coffee and… cake?" I asked, my earlier search finally finding purpose.

  "We have orange," she replied with a nod.

  "Perfect."

  Elian looked at the menu written on a board behind her. "A cheese and meat sandwich, please. And orange juice."

  We found a table near the wall and headed there.

  "So," I began, placing the mug back on the table with a soft sound. "What's the reason behind the invitation?"

  "There's no specific reason," his voice was deliberately casual. "Just two classmates having coffee. It's normal."

  I said nothing. I just kept looking at him in an exaggeratedly suspicious manner.

  "Alright," he admitted, his voice lower now. "I did want to talk to you, but the meeting was a coincidence; it's not related to that subject."

  I nodded slowly. "It's fine. Actually, I also had a question."

  "That day, when Varis rescued me…" I began, keeping my voice neutral. "You and Katia were talking…" "When did she get here?!"

  Before I could finish the question, and before Elian could formulate any response, a new element entered the scene.

  Katia was standing beside the table, both hands firmly on her hips. Her face was lit up with a wide, proud smile, as if she had discovered a hidden treasure. Her lavender eyes sparkled, moving from me to Elian and back to me, absorbing the scene of the isolated table with a mix of genuine relief and mischievous curiosity.

  Elian, recovering from the surprise, raised an eyebrow. "When and how did you get here?"

  Katia's smile became even prouder, almost a gleam. "I have my methods. I could locate a Mio among a hundred people. It's a gift."

  "That shouldn't be such a difficult task. I could locate you among a thousand people."

  "Is that so? And how, exactly?"

  I kept my tone perfectly flat, factual, as if describing an obvious natural phenomenon. "Simple. I'd go straight to the first place where there's a commotion."

  "Alright, alright, point to you," she admitted, still laughing. "Am I interrupting?"

  Elian straightened in the chair, his shoulders tensing for a brief instant before relaxing into conscious surrender.

  "No," he replied, and his voice carried no trace of irritation, just calm resignation. "Do you want me to leave?"

  Katia arched an eyebrow, as if he had suggested something absurd.

  "You're only going to get up from there to hand me the chocolate you owe me from the bet," she said, her tone perfectly casual and, at the same time, absolutely non-negotiable.

  Elian froze with the sandwich halfway to his mouth. "Yes…"

  Pulling a chair and sitting at the table without ceremony, Katia restarted the conversation. "What were you two discussing?"

  "I asked Elian what you two were talking about when Varis rescued me," I replied, keeping my tone neutral.

  Katia tilted her head, her fingers lightly drumming on the wood. For a moment, her gaze seemed to retreat inward, sifting through the memory of that confused moment atop the ruins.

  "Nothing special," she said, shrugging. "We were just talking about what happened down there. Each trying to understand what we'd seen. He was weird, I was exhausted. It was more of a venting session than a conversation, actually."

  She spoke naturally, without hesitation or discomfort. But I had already seen that scene from above, while Varis carried me away. Tense was the word that came to mind. But maybe it was just the distance, the distortion of fatigue and wind.

  "Probably better not to comment further on this subject."

  I turned to Elian, who until then had kept his eyes fixed on his juice glass. "You said you wanted to talk to me; if it's something I can help with, you can say it."

  His free hand went up to scratch the back of his neck, a gesture that almost contrasted with the contained posture I associated with him.

  "What do you think about the incident?" — His tone had completely changed.

  So that's what this is about, I thought. But the question was too broad. What exactly does he want to know?

  "About which specific part?" I returned, keeping my voice neutral.

  "The collapse; it couldn't have been natural. Except for Pedro, no one was seriously injured from the fall. When Varis rescued us, we were at least 2 kilometers from the surface."

  My gaze instinctively shifted to Katia, who until then had maintained an expression of controlled curiosity.

  "I spent the afternoon in the library before coming here," I began, my voice low enough not to carry beyond our table. "I read about the fundamentals of instantaneous displacement—in other words, teleportation."

  "That makes sense," Elian completed, the word coming out as a confirmation, not a question. "Do you think we were teleported to the ruins?"

  "I think it's unlikely," I replied, weighing each word. "The book explains that teleportation requires Pure Mana affinity. The user needs to dismantle the entire teleport target and reassemble it at the destination. One mistake, and the target might arrive with missing parts or cease to exist."

  Katia's expression became serious as she rested a finger on her cheek.

  "If there was someone capable of doing that nearby, Varis would have detected them. She sensed the creature's mana signature from two kilometers away, through solid rock. A Pure Mana mage operating at that level would be like a beacon in the dark."

  Elian absorbed the information in silence, his fingers lightly drumming on the side of his juice glass. "But what if it's not teleportation?"

  Katia frowned. "What do you mean?"

  "Teleporting a group our size is impossible, you said so yourself. But reconstructing the ground instantly? Closing a hole as if nothing had happened? That's less complex than teleportation."

  There's logic there; I hadn't thought of it that way. But… — "How does that explain the instant fall?"

  "That could be possible… In conjunction with other affinities, I believe," he concluded.

  Katia interjected, "For each person involved, the complexity increases. Not just the execution, but how to hide it. One person can go unnoticed. Two, with synchronicity, maybe. But three, four, five…"

  Multiple agents, multiple affinities. I wouldn't say it's a completely discardable idea. But Elian, what's your motive? Why does this affect you so much?

  From there, the conversation drifted into familiar and, at the same time, useless territory. Several possibilities were raised only to be discarded immediately afterward.

  The coffee cooled. The orange cake reduced to crumbs on the plate. Elian's sandwich was forgotten. No new answers emerged. Just the growing recognition that we were all rowing in the dark, each with our own incomplete map, each convinced that the missing piece was somewhere in those ruins.

  Elian was the first to stand up.

  "It's getting late," he said, his gaze briefly shifting to the window, where the orange of the sunset was already beginning to yield to the deep blue of twilight. "You two should head back to the dorms too."

  Katia nodded, pushing her chair back. I rose in silence, picking up my bag and throwing it over my shoulder, and we left together.

  The main hallway was emptier now, students dispersing to their respective wings. Our footsteps echoed in an uneven rhythm, the silence among us three filled only by the rustle of uniforms and the occasional distant creak of a door. Elian walked slightly ahead.

  "Mio," Katia broke the silence, her voice casual but edged with something more careful. "Did you study my notes?"

  "I'll look at them in my room."

  We continued walking until Elian stopped, near a corridor curve. His movement was abrupt, his feet braking against the floor with a dry sound that echoed between the walls. Katia and I also stopped.

  "Mio," he said. My name, naked, without ceremony. "I need to talk to you. In private."

  "It won't take long," he added, as if anticipating objections. As if he needed to convince me to stay.

  Katia looked at him, then at me. I simply nodded.

  "It's fine," she said, her voice neutral. "I'll wait at the dormitory gate."

  We watched Katia walk to the end of the corridor. The lavender silhouette diminished, her steps growing more distant until the last echo faded and silence took hold of the space between us.

  Then, slowly, as if the gesture required deliberate effort, he uncrossed his arms only to cross them again against his chest. He leaned back against the cold stone wall, the back of his head touching the uneven surface. His gaze fixed on some vague point in the corridor.

  The seconds dragged on, filled only by the distant hum of the mana lamps and the occasional muffled sound from other wings. And for the second time that day, I would have to become conscious of my expressions.

  Two seconds until the question… How should I handle this?

  The silence was broken, first inside my head, and second by Elian's voice. "You jumped before the collapse happened. Is there an explanation for that?"

  "What do you mean by that?" I returned, buying time.

  "What do you mean by that? It's strange that you jumped even before the ground disappeared."

  I should force a thoughtful reaction here.

  "It's not that absurd," I replied, keeping my voice flat. "I felt the tremor below the ground."

  He uncrossed his arms. His hand went up to scratch the back of his neck, that same gesture as before, adolescent and uncomfortable.

  "It makes sense," he admitted, his voice lower. "But still… something doesn't add up."

  "Do you think I'm involved in this incident?" — It wasn't the direction I intended to give the conversation, but it was necessary.

  His eyes widened for a fraction of a second. His hand stopped mid-way between his neck and his side. "What? No, I didn't mean…"

  This is bad. He prepared himself beforehand; that was the reason for the earlier questions?

  "No," he said, firmer now. "That's not it. I don't think you caused anything. It's just that you always seem to know what's going to happen. Down there, against that thing, you didn't hesitate. And you told Lira it wasn't an act of courage. If not courage, what pushed you to throw yourself under that thing?"

  Is there anything I can use in this situation? — The thought came amidst Elian's speech.

  "More importantly than that, that creature's shots destroyed an entire chamber, and you came out of there, unscathed. It's hard to believe a first-year student has that capability."

  "Do you remember the entrance exam?" I asked. "Specifically the barrier test?"

  He frowned. "Yes, you dodged electrical discharges without conjuring a barrier; honestly, there's no forgetting that."

  "It's a long story, so I'll summarize. Kael found me in a village in the countryside. He said I had potential. After some tests, we discovered that my reflexes and physical conditioning are above average. But we couldn't figure out the cause of the non-elemental affinity."

  "I spent eight months training with Bela and Kael before coming here. I don't think it's courage; I just knew I could survive if I fought."

  His eyes — once so fixed — lost focus for a moment. The gears behind that furrowed brow turned, fitting each word I had said into place: eight months, Bela and Kael Icehart, above-average reflexes. It was a simple explanation, direct, with no room for mystery.

  He sighed. Long enough to sound like someone who had been holding their breath for a long time and finally allowed themselves to let it go.

  "Sorry," he said. "I didn't have the right to question you like that. I know it was a bit stupid, but a part of me was screaming for an answer. Thank you for responding. Even so."

  "It's fine," I replied. "I didn't intend to hide it. It just wasn't something that needed to be told."

  He nodded, processing. Then, without warning, he extended his hand toward me.

  The open palm, fingers slightly curled. A simple, almost childish gesture, but laden with a weight that transcended the empty corridor and the distant hum of the lamps.

  "Friends?" he asked.

  I looked at his hand for a second. Maybe two. Long enough for the silence to stretch beyond comfortable.

  Then I extended mine.

  "Yes," I said, feeling the rough texture of his palm against mine. "Friends."

  The handshake was firm, brief. When our hands parted, a small, genuine smile appeared at the corner of his lips. It wasn't the contained smile of the strategist, nor the discomfort of the embarrassed student. It was something lighter.

  "It must have been incredible to train with Kael Icehart," he began, his voice gaining a new animation. "I've read about him…"

  He continued talking, but I stopped listening.

  My gaze had shifted to a point beyond his shoulder, fixed on the curve of the corridor where Katia's silhouette had disappeared minutes ago.

  A man was there.

  Indigo-blue hair, so dark it seemed to swallow the surrounding light. Heavy clothes that covered every inch of his skin, leaving visible only his pale face and his eyes — two wells of a color so clear they bordered on transparent.

  The entire corridor seemed to cool a few degrees. The hum of the mana lamps became sharper, more distant. Elian was still talking about Kael, but his voice reached me as if from the bottom of a tunnel.

  When the man stepped out of the penumbra of the corridor curve, Elian's speech was broken.

  "It's late," his voice was low, flat, emotionless. Like ice dragging over ice. "Students should proceed to the dormitories immediately."

  "Secretary Veyr," he said, his voice coming out faster, more formal. "Sorry, we were just leaving."

  Veyr didn't change his expression. His face remained a mask of cold porcelain, his clear eyes fixed on some point between us.

  "No problem," he replied, the same flat voice. "As long as you comply with the regulations."

  Elian nodded quickly, almost a reflex. Then he turned to me. "Sorry for holding you up so long. See you tomorrow, good night."

  Veyr continued walking unhurriedly. For a fraction of a second before disappearing around the corridor curve, his eyes met mine.

  "Coincidence," I thought. But my fingers, pressed against my bag strap, seemed not to believe it.