Cain woke before the academy bells rang.
It was not out of habbit . The kind that surfaced before sound, before movement. His eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the pale stone ceiling above him, the faint gray light filtering through the narrow window to his right.
For a moment, he did not move.
The academy was quiet in a different way this morning. Not the enforced silence of examinations. Not the rigid stillness of instructors watching. This quiet felt earned—like a breath released after tension had passed.
The second day off.
Cain sat up and placed his feet on the cold stone floor. The chill traveled up his legs, grounding him fully. He welcomed it. Sensation meant presence.
He stood, stretched his shoulders once, and moved to the washbasin.
Water splashed softly against stone as he washed his face, methodical and unhurried. He dried his hands carefully, then adjusted the academy robe hanging from the chair. The deep fabric settled comfortably over his frame, its weight familiar now.
At the far edge of the room, shadow shifted.
Cain did not look immediately.
He could feel it—an absence where there should have been nothing, and yet something remained. Darkness folded inward on itself, shaping into a low, sleek form beside the wall. The familiar did not emerge dramatically. There was no sound. No ripple of mana.
It simply existed.
Cain turned then, acknowledging it with a brief glance.
The shadow cat's eyes reflected faintly, not glowing but catching what little light the room offered. Its tail moved once, slow and deliberate, then stilled.
Cain felt no command, no pull.
Just presence.
When he turned toward the door, the familiar moved ahead of him, pausing just short of the threshold. It did not look back.
Cain opened the door.
---
The corridor beyond was already alive.
Students stepped out of their rooms in loose waves, some accompanied by familiars walking openly beside them. The academy walls—tall, smooth, etched with faint guiding runes—seemed less imposing today. Light filtered down from high windows, painting long bands across the stone floor.
Voices carried softly.
Not loud. Not chaotic.
Relaxed.
Cain walked among them without drawing attention.
The shadow cat stayed close, not brushing his leg, not climbing his shoulder—just there. When students passed too close, its form thinned instinctively, slipping nearer to Cain's outline, blending with his shadow. When space opened, it solidified again.
No one stared.
Shadow was easy to miss when it behaved.
Cain observed the others quietly.
A boy ahead laughed as his water elemental splashed up his arm, playful and uncontrolled. A girl struggled to keep her flame familiar dimmed indoors, beads of sweat forming at her temple as she concentrated. A stone-aligned creature lumbered obediently behind its summoner, leaving faint scuffs where its weight pressed too hard against the floor.
Bonding.
Cain understood the purpose.
A familiar was not power. It was continuity. A presence that did not leave when training ended or classes dismissed.
He wondered, briefly, what continuity meant for him.
The thought passed.
Halfway down the corridor, a voice cut through the ambient sound.
"Hey—Cain!"
Cain stopped.
He turned toward the source, posture neutral, gaze steady.
The boy from yesterday jogged toward him, hand raised in greeting. His pace was easy now, unburdened by the tension that had clung to him during the summoning ceremony. His expression held relief rather than embarrassment.
"Good," the boy said when he reached him. "You didn't disappear."
Cain waited.
"I was hoping I'd run into you," the boy continued. "I didn't apologize properly yesterday."
He took a step back, glancing at the surrounding students.
"Give me a second," he added.
Cain remained still.
The boy closed his eyes briefly and spoke a name under his breath.
Mana gathered.
Not violently. Not erratically.
The air near his shoulder distorted, pressure condensing as invisible currents folded inward. It was controlled—careful. A practiced pull rather than a forced one.
A wind elemental hawk took shape.
Its form emerged from the distortion as though sculpted from the air itself—feathers outlined by shifting currents, wings folding neatly as it perched atop the boy's shoulder. Its eyes were sharp, alert, but restrained. The hallway breeze adjusted subtly around it, accommodating its presence.
The boy exhaled slowly.
"Still don't like tight spaces," he muttered.
The hawk chirped once, low and contained.
Cain observed without comment.
The boy looked back at him. "Sorry about yesterday. I lost control for a moment. That shouldn't have happened."
"It didn't reach me," Cain said.
"Still," the boy replied. "Could have."
He extended his hand.
"I'm **Rei**," he said. "Class 1B."
Cain looked at the hand.
He did not move.
The pause was not calculation.
It was memory.
Hands offered in expectation.
Names exchanged too easily.
Connections that had once demanded something in return.
Time passed.
Rei did not withdraw his hand.
He did not speak.
Did not laugh.
Did not grow awkward.
He simply waited.
Cain reached out and shook it.
"Cain," he said. "Arkwright."
Rei's grip was firm and straightforward. He smiled—not wide, not forced.
"Good to finally do that properly."
The wind hawk shifted, wings fluttering briefly before settling again.
Rei's gaze flicked downward.
"…Shadow elemental," he said quietly.
Cain did not respond.
Rei raised one hand slightly. "Just observing. Not poking."
The shadow cat moved closer to Cain's side.
And Cain felt it.
Not words.
Not emotion.
Pressure.
Like a presence brushing against the edge of his awareness, testing the space between thought and instinct.
Cain acknowledged it internally.
Not now.
Rei cleared his throat lightly. "So. Day off."
Cain nodded.
"Everyone's acting like the academy turned friendly overnight," Rei said. "Feels strange."
"Temporary," Cain replied.
Rei laughed softly. "Yeah. Probably."
They began walking together, steps naturally aligning.
The corridor widened ahead, sunlight spilling more freely across the floor. Students clustered near windows, others drifting toward the courtyards beyond.
Rei spoke as they walked—not incessantly, not nervously. Just enough to fill the space without demanding attention. He talked about the summoning ceremony, about how his familiar reacted better outdoors, about how strange it felt to suddenly not be tested.
Cain listened.
The shadow familiar followed.
Again, Cain felt it—slightly stronger now. Still not intrusive. Still not guiding.
Present.
Rei slowed near a junction where corridors branched outward.
"Well," he said, adjusting his sleeve. "Glad we ran into each other."
Cain nodded.
They continued forward together, neither leading, neither following.
Not friends.
Not strangers.
Just two students moving through the academy on the first quiet day it had allowed them.
When Cain eventually returned toward his room, the shadow cat moved ahead, stopping just inside the doorway.
Cain entered and closed the door behind him.
He sat on the chair near the desk and closed his eyes.
The academy hummed faintly beyond the walls.
And somewhere within that stillness, something waited—patient, silent, and watching.
---