Cane stepped onto the Academy grounds, his stride lighter than usual, almost buoyant. A sense of ease settled over him, like slipping into a favorite coat.
"I didn't realize how much I missed this place," he murmured to himself.
He crossed the threshold of Seven Tower, boots thumping confidently up the winding staircase to the third floor. As he turned the final corner, a small figure caught his eye—standing near his door, scribbling something onto a folded scrap of parchment.
"Sofie?" Cane's smile came easily.
She turned, beaming. "Cane! I was starting to worry. The lunch I brought was untouched."
His eyes fell on the boxed meal beside her. With a grateful sigh, he picked it up in one hand while unlocking his door with the other. "Come in."
Sofie followed him inside, eyes sweeping the room with unfiltered curiosity. "So this is your room?"
"Yep."
She stopped in the center of the space, arms crossed. "Okay. Now I'm mad. Really mad."
Her tone was all play—no heat.
Cane dropped his satchel by the bed, blinking. "What did I do?"
She jabbed a finger at a small square embedded in the wall near the doorframe. "You have one of these, and you never use it?"
Cane squinted. "What… is it?"
"Room communicator!" she declared, marching over. "This diagram here—" she pointed to a faint design etched above the square, a figure-eight overlapping an 'A' "—is your psi focal. Every room has one. This should've been covered in orientation."
"My enrollment kind of... bypassed orientation," Cane said, sheepish.
Sofie made a sound between a sigh and a growl. "Fine. I'll show you."
She grabbed his arm, tugging him closer as she pulled the parchment from her pocket again. "This is your room symbol," she said, sketching it onto the paper. "You should copy it and give it to classmates so they can contact you. Everyone does it."
Then she pointed to another symbol. "This is the kitchen. You draw it onto the ceramic square with your finger."
She demonstrated, dragging her fingertip across the surface in a practiced loop. The square lit up with a soft pulse.
"Kitchen staff, this is Marge."
Cane jumped slightly at the unexpected voice.
Sofie grinned, barely suppressing a laugh. "Just reminding you that tomorrow's my off day, Marge."
"Thanks, dearie," came the warm reply. "Enjoy your day off."
The square dimmed. Sofie looked at Cane, triumphant.
"Well?" she asked.
"I'm both impressed… and a little scared," Cane said.
"So…" Cane tilted his head. "You were worried about me?"
"Don't get full of yourself," she said quickly, then after a pause added, "Did you undertake a mission or something?"
"I can do missions?" Cane repeated blankly.
Sofie groaned, facepalming. "Goodness. Why do I know about them when you don't?"
Her gaze drifted to his desk, landing on a familiar, slightly dusty book. She let out a sigh.
"Really?" She picked it up, flipping it open. "This is literally your orientation manual. I know you skipped the orientation, but you could've at least read it."
Cane shrugged. "Why bother? You'd tell me everything anyway."
"Oh my stars…" she muttered. "Are you even going to last here?"
"Hey, I'm a top student, you know. In the advanced class."
"I know…"
Cane raised a brow. "That in the book too?"
Sofie flipped to the housing section, smirking as she read aloud. "Special guests, guest teachers, and advanced students are housed in Tower Seven."
"Fine, point made."
He paused, remembering the cover story he'd planned for his absences.
"The shores and surrounding foothills are rich with rare ores and metals," he said, casually. "I plan to do some mining—save money on materials. I expect to be doing that during most of my free time."
Sofie smiled warmly. "Saving money is a great idea."
Cane grinned and sat down on his bed while opening the box lunch Sofie brought.
"Tomorrow is your day off?" Cane asked.
Sofie nodded. "I plan on seeing the new deployment off."
"I don't know what that is," Cane admitted.
"The top seniors are conscripted into the war effort," she said softly. "I wave and cheer for them."
Her usual brightness dimmed, just slightly. "Least I can do..."
Cane reached out and gently took her hand, squeezing it. "What time?"
"Ships leave at noon."
"My HOM class will be over by then. I'll go with you." Cane paused, "HOM is History of Magic, by the way."
Sofie nodded, her smile returning. "I know, it's…"
"Covered in orientation," Cane finished with a grin.
"Yep."
"I'll meet you at the front gate."
Cane paused, brow raised. "Why is your face so red?"
Sofie blinked. "Um… you're still holding my hand."
Cane let go, a beat too late. Sofie turned quickly, pretending to adjust the box on his desk.
Neither of them said anything for a moment.
But her smile lingered.
After walking Sofie back to the kitchens, Cane returned to his bunk, exhausted from what had somehow become the most eventful "day off" of his life. He slept soundly, but still covered several yawns during History of Magic the next morning.
Thankfully, his drowsiness went unnoticed—unlike Clara, who dozed off mid-lecture and promptly fell out of her chair with a loud thump.
The freckled redhead bounced to her feet, unfazed. "Whoa, I got lightheaded. Maybe I'm coming down with something."
The class chuckled. They were all in the same boat. HOM was brutal after two days off.
Eventually, the professor dismissed them—but not before assigning group research reports on magical devices and their uses in large-scale conflicts.
Cane had barely stepped into the corridor when Clara and Dhalia flanked him.
"Looks like we're together!" Clara declared, slapping them both on the back. "Group of three. Lucky you."
Dhalia gave a resigned smile. "Could've been worse."
"Let's exchange room focals so we can set something up," Clara added, already pulling out a slip of parchment and scratching down symbols.
Cane nodded, suddenly grateful Sofie had briefed him the night before.
He copied his symbol onto the parchment and passed it over.
Clara raised an eyebrow. "How did you manage to stay awake?"
"It wasn't that bad," Cane said.
"Yes, it was. Dhalia countered, a small smirk playing at her lips.
Cane didn't answer—just shrugged, though the corner of his mouth twitched. In truth, he felt like he had been sleeping with his eyes open.
Cane returned to his room, grabbing a quick rinse in the communal showers before changing into clean clothes and pulling a fresh robe over his head. Hands in his pockets, he strolled toward the front gate, enjoying the crisp air.
He slowed as he spotted a small group of younger students gathered near the entrance—surrounding Sofie.
"What year are you?"
"Are you a student here?"
"I bet you're a Water Elementalist. They're always pretty."
Sofie blushed, clearly uncomfortable. Her hands fidgeted at her sides, and she looked like she wanted to bolt.
"Sofie!"
A familiar voice cut through the noise, chasing away the awkward tension. Her face lit up instantly. "Cane!"
He approached casually, gaze fixed on the cluster of students. "Get lost."
One of them bristled. "Who the hell do you thi—"
"You heard him," another voice cut in—calm, but firm.
Fergis stepped up behind Cane, patting his back like an old friend. Then he turned to the group, raising one hand. Flames danced across his fingers. "Or should I ask too?"
The students scattered immediately—robes flapping as they ran, the threat of fire more than enough motivation.
Cane chuckled. "Thanks."
Fergis gave a curt nod and turned to go, waving over his shoulder without breaking stride. He didn't explain himself, didn't need to. He'd seen Sofie in Seven Tower before—dropping off boxed lunches, always near Cane's door. That made her a friend. And that was enough.
Sofie slipped her hand into Cane's offered arm, her smile returning. "You friends with Fergis? I've seen him in your hall a few times."
Cane nodded. "I'm surprised you know his name."
"Everyone knows him," she said with a little shiver. "His nickname is Firekiss. Anyone who bothers him ends up with a scorched face."
Cane laughed. "That doesn't sound like the Fergis I know."
Cane chatted easily, enjoying the sound of Sofie's laughter as she clung lightly to his arm. The day was overcast, but the air was calm and warm, making the walk to town pleasant. From a distance, the sound of music drifted through the streets, and the walkways were already crowded with onlookers.
"I have a spot I usually stand at," Sofie said.
Cane nodded. "Lead the way."
They arrived at the General Store, which had a small rooftop addition with a flat platform and a ladder propped against it. The shopkeeper stood in the doorway, smiling when he spotted them.
"Going up, Sofie?"
"If that's okay, Mr. Bruin," she replied.
"Of course. Say hi to your parents for me," he said, vanishing back inside.
"I forget that you're a local," Cane said as he climbed the ladder first, then turned and offered a hand to help Sofie up—her dress and soft shoes not exactly made for rooftop scaling.
They moved to the edge of the roof, their vantage giving them a wide view of the street below. Sofie began pointing out shops, sharing little notes on who lived where and which families ran what. Cane filed it all away, mentally mapping the town—a useful bit of reconnaissance for when he'd take up his secret identity as the masked blacksmith.
"Here they come," Sofie whispered, pointing down the street.
The music faded away.
Young men and women walked in measured lines toward the gathering, clad in the traditional dress uniform given to every Magi Academy graduate: crimson overcoats, white trousers, and polished black boots that rose to the knee.
Cheers broke out across the crowd, swelling into a roar. Flags waved. Parents shouted names. The mood teetered between pride and heartbreak.
Cane watched silently—nearly a hundred students by his estimate. Some smiled and waved at the crowd. Others leaned in close to whisper to nearby friends, heads bowed.
A woman broke free from the crowd, rushing forward to embrace a graduate. She buried her face into his shoulder, sobbing. A few steps away, a father stood wringing his hands, his eyes glassy with unshed tears as he watched his only daughter march by. She spotted him, smiled, and blew a cheerful kiss.
He smiled back.
But deep down, he wondered if he'd ever see her again.
"What's that?" Cane asked, pointing toward a bronzed plaque near the end of the street where the procession had stopped. A hush was falling again over the gathering.
"A list of people deployed?" he guessed.
Sofie shook her head. "Those who'll never come back."
Cane didn't say anything—just reached out and took her hand. She gripped it tightly.
A priestess of the Sea stepped forward, her hands rising to the sky, adorned with bracelets that shimmered like rainfall. She spoke in an old dialect of the water tongue, her voice ringing clear and soft.
Cane couldn't understand half of the words, but he felt their weight all the same.
Please return safely, and if you can't… wait for the day when we will be reunited.
Sensing something amiss, Cane glanced at Sofie.
She was staring at him with wet green eyes. "I don't want that to be you."
Cane turned toward her fully, gripping both her hands. "I won't graduate for three years. Maybe the war will be over by then."
Without another word, Sofie flung her arms around his waist, holding him tight—surprisingly strong for someone so small.
"I hope so too," she whispered. "Please… let it be so."
Cane walked silently beside her on the way back to the Academy. Her wet eyes, sniffing nose, and occasional hiccup told him she was close to tears but doing her best to hold it in.
Finally, he broke the silence. "You have a room at the Academy?"
Sofie nodded. "Staff dorm. I left my psi focal in your desk."
"Well... I'm not going to try and kiss you with your nose running like that."
Sofie blinked, startled, and then—like magic—produced a handkerchief from a hidden pocket, dabbing quickly at her nose.
"Who says I want you to?" she shot back.
"No? Then why did you use the hanky?"
Cane leaned down, slow and unsure, his lips brushing hers—just a whisper of contact—before leaning back again.
A blush bloomed across Sofie's pale features. She didn't speak. Instead, she hugged him tight, then turned and walked briskly away, her steps quick and purposeful.
Cane watched her go, a faint smile lingering on his lips.