It was the last morning of term.
The students had already begun leaving, dragging trunks behind them, saying hurried goodbyes, and exchanging letters and promises to write.
Vell had already given out all the grades days before, and since then, everything had gone smoothly.
The students who passed wouldn't need any more lessons for the year, and those who failed would have needed much more than Vell could offer in such a short time.
Vell's desk was already bare. He had returned any books he borrowed; his papers were sorted.
He'd made copies of anything he needed or wanted to keep.
The only thing left was a small envelope that lay on the center of his desk, sealed in wax and addressed to Principal Py. It was a thank you note and goodbye.
Sonder sat nearby. As a student of the Magnus Hall, she, as did everyone else, had received a deep blue cloak.
She wore it over her normal clothing, the hood folded neatly at her shoulders, fitting perfectly.
Vell glanced over at her. "Are you sad to leave?"
She paused at the question, glancing up. "No."
"Not even a little?"
She gave a small shake of her head.
Vell raised a brow slightly. "Did you make any friends here?"
"No," she said again.
That gave him pause. "None at all?"
"I don't think so."
Vell didn't respond at first. He merely studied her, thoughtful and quiet. A full year, among others. A full year of lectures, group work, and daily meals. Most people couldn't help but form some connection, even if only out of routine.
But Sonder had remained as solitary at the end as she had been at the start.
Maybe it was because none, or very few, were her age. Maybe this place was too alien for her.
He wondered if it was the sickness. He had already thought about routine, and after they had arrived, Vell had thrown himself into work and research; he couldn't have noticed if Sonder was too stuck in hers.
He needed all the time he could get, and he didn't want to make the Kalandir wait longer than he needed to.
But there was still something else to it. He just couldn't figure out what.
Sonder, meanwhile, felt his gaze linger on her.
But her memory and thoughts always returned to one thing these past few months.
That room. That mirror.
She hadn't told him. Not about what she'd seen in the bag, not about the mirror's pull.
It wasn't shame exactly. Or fear. It was more like it didn't feel real, like something she had dreamed too vividly to forget. But it had stayed with her, burrowed deep inside her, lodged between her ribs.
She looked down at her hands, then closed them into fists, then let them go again.
She told herself to leave it. The memory could stay in the halls. That had to be enough.