December crept in quietly, like a small beast stepping across the snow.

  I barely had time to look back—and already half the Academy was walking around in scarves, and the teachers were holding heat runes more often than books.

  We finished half of the wind magic course.

  And, strangely enough, we finished it faster than expected.

  The instructors said:

  — The group’s level… is progressing.

  Though I saw something else:

  Kairen is like a fish in water.

  Elinia seems as if she was made for the sky.

  Finn tries hard, but he’s nervous.

  Edgar absolutely hates levitation.

  The rest of the group either falls, crashes into walls, or argues about who’s making the “gust” correctly.

  And me…

  I pretended to be bored.

  It was easier than explaining why everything felt too easy.

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  But that’s not what this is about.

  This is about December.

  Somewhere between training sessions and yet another argument between Elinia and Kairen, a thought suddenly hit me:

  Winter break is coming.

  Home.

  Father. Mother.

  The old yard.

  The room that still holds things I hid as a child.

  And—the Forest.

  The elves.

  Mira…

  No—she’s supposed to be far away.

  I still haven’t gotten used to the thought that she won’t be nearby.

  I don’t know who’s waiting for the reunion more—me or Mira.

  It’s almost funny.

  But the strangest thing is that many people at the Academy aren’t happy about the break at all.

  Some sit on benches in the hall, staring out the windows as if answers might appear there.

  Finn twists an amulet in his hands and frowns:

  — Going back home. There are… too many people there.

  Edgar grumbles:

  — My grandfather will start checking my forms and make me forge for twenty hours straight.

  Even Elinia looks at the snowy courtyard without her usual shine:

  — They’ll expect performances for the councilors. And demonstrations of magic.

  Only Kairen is glowing:

  — Home! The steppe winds! Real air!

  I looked at all of them and, for the first time, felt something like… warmth.

  Not the warmth of a fireplace.

  But the warmth of a group.

  And still—

  Two roads are waiting for me.

  Home—and the Forest.

  I wonder…

  How much stronger have they become?

  Have they grown up?

  Have they changed?

  I remember them small.

  Funny.

  Clumsy.

  And now… I don’t know what to expect.

  But one thing I know for sure—

  This winter, a lot will change.