Morning settled over the Royal Magic Academy with a quieter rhythm than usual.
The bells rang later than they had on examination days—one long, measured chime instead of the sharp sequence that had driven students from their beds during tests. The sound carried across stone courtyards and tiled rooftops, unhurried, almost lenient.
Cain was already awake.
He sat at the edge of his bed, feet planted on the cold floor, robe loosely tied at the waist. The room looked exactly as it had the night before—orderly, untouched. The only addition was the presence near the window.
A shape lay where the morning light thinned.
It did not disturb the air.
It did not cast a normal shadow.
The familiar rested there in silence, its form small and compact, like a cat curled in on itself. Its body was made of something darker than shadow—edges indistinct, surface smooth, as if light slid past it rather than striking it. Two faint points suggested eyes, but they were not glowing. They simply existed.
Cain did not stare.
He acknowledged its presence the same way he acknowledged furniture or walls—something real, something occupying space.
The door in the corridor opened. Footsteps passed. Voices followed, muted but energetic.
Cain stood and adjusted his robe, movements economical. He did not reach for the familiar. He did not call it.
The shadow-cat shifted as he moved, rising soundlessly and drifting closer, its steps leaving no mark on the floor.
Cain paused for half a breath.
Then he continued.
---
The main hall was more alive than Cain had expected.
Students spilled out in loose groups, some laughing too loudly, others already comparing familiars in excited tones. The tension that had gripped the academy during examinations had loosened overnight, replaced with something lighter—relief mixed with curiosity.
instructor halden stood at the center of the hall, hands clasped behind his back. His voice carried easily without force.
"You've all worked hard," he said. "Examinations are complete. Familiar summoning is no small trial."
A ripple of agreement moved through the crowd.
"For that reason," the instructor continued, "first-year students are granted 2 days off."
A beat.
"Use it to bond with your familiars."
Some students cheered. Others exhaled in visible relief.
"You are not to leave academy grounds," the instructor added calmly. "Training fields and outer gardens are open. No combat practice. No dueling."
His gaze sharpened slightly.
"This is not rest. It is adjustment."
The dismissal came shortly after.
Students scattered almost immediately.
Cain remained where he was for a moment longer, letting the flow move around him. The familiar hovered close, its presence oddly unobtrusive despite how unnatural it was.
He turned toward the outer grounds.
---
The academy gardens lay beyond the main buildings, arranged with deliberate symmetry—stone paths dividing trimmed grass, shallow beds of greenery and low stone planters lining the walkways. Trees stood evenly spaced, their leaves barely stirring in the breeze.
Students spread across the area in clusters.
Some knelt to speak softly to their familiars. Others walked slowly, observing how the summoned beings reacted to the environment. A few stood back entirely, watching with wary expressions.
Cain chose none of those approaches.
He walked along a quiet stone path near the edge of the grounds, away from the central flow of students. The familiar followed, its form gliding rather than stepping, silent and constant.
A sudden rush of air cut across his shoulder.
Something moved fast at the edge of his vision—wings, sharp and close.
Cain stepped back.
Not hurried. Not startled.
His body shifted before his breath changed, weight pulling cleanly out of the path of the oncoming shape. The motion was smooth, practiced—the kind that came from reacting before thought caught up.
A wind elemental hawk swept past where he had been standing, feathers of pale air unraveling as it climbed sharply back into the sky.
"Sorry!" a voice called from farther down the path.
Cain looked up.
The familiar circled once before settling near its summoner—a boy a few steps ahead, tall and broad-shouldered, dark-haired, already laughing as he raised a hand toward the creature.
"Careful," the boy muttered to it, tone easy. "You'll clip someone."
The hawk tilted its head, then darted away again.
Cain gave a short nod in acknowledgment and continued walking.
He took three more steps before stopping.
The reaction had been right.
Too right.
Cain replayed the moment—not the movement, but the timing. The instant between awareness and action had been… thinner than usual.
There had been no fear.
No hesitation.
Just motion.
Cain glanced down.
The shadow-cat padded beside him, silent, its presence unchanged.
It had not moved him.
It had not warned him.
And yet—
Cain dismissed the thought without expression and resumed his walk.
If it happened again, he would pay attention.
---
By midday, the gardens grew warmer.
Students spread blankets or leaned against stone edges, sharing food and conversation. The noise level rose and fell naturally, the academy's strict order softened for the day.
Cain sat on a low stone ledge near the outer boundary of the grounds.
He did not eat.
He watched.
The shadow-cat sat at his feet, its form blending subtly with the shade beneath the ledge.
Cain tested nothing.
He waited.
Minutes passed.
Nothing else occurred.
That, too, was information.
---
The afternoon drifted on.
Cain returned toward the dormitory wing as shadows lengthened and lanterns flickered to life along the corridors. Students filtered back in loose groups, voices tired but satisfied.
Cain reached his room and paused before entering.
For a moment, he felt a faint pull—an urge to look down the corridor instead of opening the door.
It was subtle. Almost nothing.
Cain resisted it without effort.
The sensation faded.
He opened the door and stepped inside.
The room greeted him with familiar stillness.
Cain folded his robe neatly and sat at the desk, resting his hands against the smooth wood.
The shadow-cat moved to the window and settled there, its outline thinning as dusk deepened.
Cain leaned back in the chair.
The day had been uneventful by any external measure.
No tests.
No combat.
No revelations.
And yet—
Something had shifted.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
Just enough to notice.
Cain closed his eyes.
Tomorrow would bring schedules, introductions, and routine.
For now, this was sufficient.
Somewhere in the academy, bonds were forming loudly and visibly.
Cain's formed in silence.
And silence, he knew, was often where the most dangerous things began.
---