The sun began its slow descent, casting long shadows across the academy grounds.
Caden stepped out from the training field, boots crunching against the gravel path as the warmth of the afternoon wrapped around him. The haze of everything he had just seen—or been forced to see—still clung to him like a second skin. He exhaled, almost expecting to see tendrils of shadow in the breath he released.
"Caden!" a familiar voice called out.
He turned to see Lyra waving, her silvery braid swinging with each step as she approached. Revan trailed behind, arms crossed, looking as disinterested as ever. They were standing under one of the towering moonpine trees, its pale white bark glowing faintly in the afternoon light.
"Hey," Caden said, with a forced smile on his face.
Lyra squinted at him. "You look like you just walked through a storm."
Revan raised a brow. "Or saw a ghost. Which, in this place, might actually be a possibility."
Caden offered a weak smile. "Something like that."
Lyra tilted her head. "So? How was your second session?"
He hesitated. How was it? It felt like he'd stared into a fracture of the world—witnessed something he wasn't supposed to. A dragon made of void, a shadow that whispered truth, and a Saint who wasn't what he claimed to be.
"It was… intense," he said carefully.
"That's one way to put it," Revan muttered. "We spent two hours sitting through a lecture on magical incantation roots. Roots. As in the historical linguistics of spells. Professor Halley spent thirty minutes talking about how the ancient word for 'ignite' sounded like someone sneezing."
Lyra groaned. "He even made us recite them. In four dialects."
"And they say this place sharpens the mind," Revan added. "I think mine dulled."
Despite the storm still brewing behind his eyes, Caden chuckled.
"I guess I got lucky then."
"Oh no," Lyra said, smirking. "Don't let Revan fool you. He pretended to fall asleep halfway through just to get out of reciting. Nearly tipped the whole bench over."
Revan shrugged, unbothered. "Worked, didn't it?"
Caden smiled, the heaviness in his chest lightening just a little. The Academy, with all its secrets and shadows, at least gave him this—a moment of warmth, fleeting but real.
"Come on," Lyra said, looping her arm through Caden's and dragging him forward. "You're telling us everything on the way to the commons."
"Yeah," Revan added, walking beside them with his hands tucked in his pockets. "And if your lesson involved anything remotely cool—like actual magic—I reserve the right to be jealous and bitter the entire evening."
Caden didn't answer right away. His gaze drifted upward, to the fading sun and the long stretch of sky that was slowly being claimed by dusk. Somewhere behind those clouds, behind those colors, answers were hiding. But for now…
"Deal," he said.
They crossed the courtyard, their boots echoing against the pale stone path as the golden sunlight began dipping past the upper towers.
"So," Lyra said, brushing a strand of silver-blonde hair behind her ear, "how was round two with the grumpy mentor?"
Revan grinned. "Let me guess—he made you scrub floors with your tongue or chant old verses while standing on one foot?"
Caden laughed. "Worse. He made me sit still. For hours. And told me to fracture my mind."
Lyra raised an eyebrow. "That… doesn't sound too brutal."
"It was a lesson," Caden said. "He was teaching me my first paradox."
Both Lyra and Revan paused mid-step.
Caden continued, unaware at first. "Stillness vs Motion. We meditated, talked about the philosophy behind it and—"
"Wait, Stillness vs Motion?" Lyra cut in, her tone suddenly sharper.
Caden glanced back. "Yeah. Why?"
Revan blinked, visibly thrown. "That's… not beginner-level stuff. That paradox is introduced at second-stage theory. Sometimes third."
Lyra's expression was unreadable. "It's an abstract one. Most people struggle with it for weeks."
"Well, Sand said I showed… resonance. Whatever that means."
The air between them grew quiet for a moment as they walked.
Then, with a hesitant smile, Caden added, "He also gave me a Golden badge and marked my rank as Golden in the merit ledger."
Revan stopped walking.
Lyra stiffened.
"You got… Golden?" Revan said slowly, voice a little hollow.
Caden nodded. "Didn't even know what that meant at first."
Revan gave a low whistle. "We've both been here over a year. I'm Silver. Lyra too."
Lyra was silent.
Caden shifted uneasily. "Look, it's not a big deal. I didn't ask for it—"
"No," Lyra cut in, her voice light, smile fixed. "Of course not. You're just that good, huh?"
Something about the way she said it made Caden's gut twist.
Revan laughed it off with a slap to Caden's shoulder. "Man, you're making us look bad already. Next thing we know, you'll be lecturing the instructors."
"Yeah, right," Caden said. "I still can't find the bathroom without getting lost."
That broke the tension, just enough. Lyra gave a soft laugh, and they moved on, stepping into the wide arches of the cafeteria.
The scent of spiced meat and baked mana-bread wafted through the air. Students filled the long tables, voices buzzing in every corner. They grabbed trays and made their way through the serving line—where food didn't exactly float, but definitely shifted a little when you weren't looking.
"What even is this?" Caden frowned at his plate. "It's jiggling."
"Magic beast tendon stew," Revan muttered. "High in protein. Low in trust."
Lyra smirked. "Don't worry. If it bites back, it's still fresh."
They found a spot near the middle. Between bites, the banter returned—half jokes, half complaints.
"So, what did you guys do today?" Caden asked.
"Channeled sparks into a copper conduit for six hours," Revan groaned. "My hands are still buzzing. I swear, my fingers might start shooting lightning in my sleep."
Lyra scoffed. "You'd need an actual mana circuit for that, genius. I spent the whole afternoon reciting Code-Line invocations to a crystal ball that kept insulting me."
"Sounds productive," Caden said, "Are you also learning Channeling while being a Contramancer?" he asked.
"Oh, extremely," Lyra said dryly while avoiding Caden's question. "At one point it called me 'a low-magic peasant with an inflated ego.'"
Revan burst out laughing. "So, accurate."
Lyra kicked him under the table.
They ate, they laughed, and for a while, the weight of paradoxes and ranks slipped into the background.
But Caden couldn't shake the way Lyra's eyes had flickered—not with anger, but something quieter. The kind of thing you didn't talk about at lunch.
Not yet.